More Than Broken

Just Vibes

Shay didn’t mean to say yes.

She’d planned to stay in, headphones on, hoodie up, buried in notes she wouldn’t really read. But when Tasha barged into the room with a bottle of tequila in one hand and a flyer in the other, her resolve crumbled.

“You need to stop being emo and come shake something,” Tasha announced, kicking the door shut behind her. “I’m not taking no for an answer. This is a house party. Off-campus. Fun people, loud music, jungle juice—you need this.”

Shay let out a weak laugh, but her stomach felt hollow. “I don’t know…”

“Nope.” Tasha plopped down beside her. “You’ve been walking around here like a ghost. You need a reset. You don’t even have to talk to anyone—just drink a little, dance a little, forget the world exists for one damn night.”

Shay hesitated. Every part of her wanted to retreat, to isolate and wrap herself in the silence she knew too well. But something in her chest—restless, aching—was begging to be drowned out.

“Okay,” she finally said.

Tasha’s eyes lit up. “Say less.”

⸻

It started with a shot.

Then another.

Then three more because some junior in a backwards cap yelled, “You’re not drunk enough until you forget your name!” and for some reason, that felt like the most inspiring thing Shay had heard all week.

The house was packed. Music blared through the walls like it had something to prove. People spilled out onto the porch, red cups in hand, sweat shining on their skin under cheap party lights that cast everything in a hazy pink glow.

Shay felt the buzz settle into her bones, warm and dizzying.

“This is exactly what we needed,” Tasha shouted over the music, already halfway through her second solo cup. “No feelings. No men. Just vibes.”

Shay grinned and tilted her head back, letting the bass throb through her chest.

“No feelings,” she echoed, lifting her cup like a toast. “Just vibes.”

But even as she said it, Cairo’s face flickered through her mind. The way his voice dipped when he said her name. The way he looked at her like she wasn’t broken. Like she could be something whole.

She took another sip.

No. Not tonight.

Tonight, she was just a girl at a party, dancing with her best friend, laughing until her stomach hurt.

⸻

The living room was a blur of bodies, movement, and heat. Tasha was the type to dance like no one was watching—even when everyone was—and she had Shay doubled over with laughter after she tried to twerk on a couch cushion and slipped.

“Girl, the cushion did not consent!” Shay yelled, cackling as Tasha grabbed her cup and flipped her off.

They danced until their legs ached, then stumbled into the kitchen to reload. Someone handed Shay another drink—something neon and suspiciously sweet. She didn’t ask questions.

“This is so ghetto,” Tasha said between sips, “but like… the fun kind.”

Shay smiled and nodded, but her head was starting to feel fuzzy. Thoughts weren’t coming together like they used to. She blinked and found herself staring at a c***k in the ceiling.

She wasn’t just tipsy anymore.

She was gone.

“Bathroom,” she mumbled, gripping the counter for balance.

“I’ll come with,” Tasha offered, but Shay waved her off.

“I’m good. Just need a minute.”

⸻

The hallway was darker than the rest of the house, quieter. But the silence didn’t help.

Shay stumbled into the bathroom and locked the door behind her. Her reflection in the mirror looked like a stranger—eyes glassy, mascara smudged, a too-wide smile trying to hold everything together.

She gripped the sink.

Suddenly, the music was too loud. The lights too bright. The room too much.

Why had she come out tonight?

Why did she think she could forget?

For a moment, she thought she might cry, but she swallowed it down with the rest of the liquor.

You’re fine.

You’re always fine.

That’s the rule.