One Drunken Night

Another Party

The bass was already rattling the walls when I walked into the house Friday night. Another weekend, another party. Same red cups, same shitty beer smell mixed with too much weed and perfume. People were spilling out onto the backyard, laughing too loud, grinding on each other in the living room. Exactly what I needed after a week of sitting in those group project meetings pretending Sienna was just some random girl I had to tolerate.

My boys were posted up in the usual spot by the couch like they owned the place. Jake spotted me first.

“There he is!” he yelled over the music, slapping my back hard enough to spill a little of the drink he was handing me. “Our resident p***y magnet. What’s good, bro? Gonna bring us some fresh meat tonight or what?”

I laughed and took a long pull from the cup. Warm beer, but whatever. “Working on it.”

Ryan grinned, already half-buzzed. “Man, you better. Last party you dipped with that chick and we didn’t see your ass again. Had to actually talk to girls ourselves. Brutal.”

Derek jumped in, smirking. “Yeah, and how’s that Psych project going anyway? Still letting your group carry your ass while you handle the pretty slides?”

They all cracked up. I just shrugged and grinned along with them. “Hey, somebody’s gotta make it look good. You guys know I’m not built for the actual work part.”

Jake shook his head, still laughing. “That’s why we keep you around, Hart. You pull the girls, we make sure you don’t completely fail out. Perfect system.”

I clinked my cup against theirs and played along. Same old bullshit. They mostly kept me around because having me there made s**t easier for them—easier to get invited to places, easier to talk to girls. Whatever. It worked for all of us.

I scanned the room while they kept roasting each other. That’s when I saw her.

Sienna. Standing near the kitchen with a couple of her friends, barely sipping whatever was in her cup like usual. She had on this simple top and jeans, hair down, nothing crazy but it worked on her. Our eyes met for a second across the crowd. She gave me this small, quick nod. I nodded back and looked away fast, pretending I was more interested in the girl dancing near the speakers.

The night dragged on like they always do. I danced with a few girls, made out with one in the hallway for a bit, but my head wasn’t really in it. Every time I glanced toward the kitchen area, Sienna was still there, talking quietly, laughing at something one of her friends said. She didn’t look like she belonged in the middle of all this chaos, but she wasn’t exactly hating it either.

Eventually I needed air. I pushed through the crowd and stepped out onto the back porch. It was quieter out here, just a few people smoking and talking in small groups. And there she was—leaning on the railing alone, looking out at the dark yard.

“Hey,” I said, walking over and leaning next to her.

“Hey,” she replied, sounding a little surprised but not in a bad way.

“Roommate drag you here again?”

“Yeah,” she said with a small laugh. “Couldn’t say no this time. Music’s not terrible tonight though.”

I nodded. “Finally got a decent playlist. Usually it’s just the same Top 40 s**t on repeat.”

We stood there for a minute, the party noise muffled behind us. Then a Weeknd song started thumping through the open door.

“You like The Weeknd?” she asked, tilting her head a bit.

“Yeah, a lot,” I said. “Starboy stuff especially. You?”

Her face lit up a little. “Same. His old s**t is my favorite though. House of Balloons hits different at night.”

“No s**t?” I laughed, genuinely surprised. “That tape is crazy. ‘High for This’ is one of my top ones. The way it just pulls you in.”

We started talking music for real then. She was into the moody vibes, how his songs felt like whole scenes playing out in your head. I told her about some remixes I’d found online that took the originals and made them even darker. She actually listened, asked questions, didn’t just nod along like half the girls I talked to at these things.

“You ever see him live?” I asked.

“Once, yeah. It was insane. The lights, the way he moves… felt like the whole crowd was in a trance.”

We geeked out for a while. Easy. No pressure. No trying to impress each other. Just two people talking about something we both actually gave a s**t about. At one point she mimicked the opening of one of his songs in this half-singing voice and we both cracked up because it sounded terrible.

Eventually she checked her phone. “s**t, I should go find my friends before they think I bailed on them.”

“Yeah, me too,” I said. “See you at the group meeting?”

She smiled a little. “Yeah. Night, Liam.”

“Night.”

She slipped back inside. I stayed out on the porch a while longer, finishing my drink, staring out at nothing. The guys were still loud as hell when I went back in. Same jokes. Same everything. But that balcony talk kept replaying in my head the rest of the night. Not even the exact words—just how easy it felt. How she didn’t make me feel like I had to perform.

A few days later, Tuesday night, I was chilling in my apartment. Lights off, bored out of my mind. The guys had invited me out to some bar but I skipped. Just wasn’t feeling it. I was scrolling through new music releases when I found this unreleased Weeknd leak. Moody as f**k. Dark synths, that voice layered over everything. It instantly reminded me of Sienna on the balcony, the way her face had lit up talking about his old stuff.

I said f**k it and DM’d her.

Liam: yo random, you heard this yet?

I sent the track.

She replied after a few minutes.

Sienna:omg is this real?? this s**t is fire!

We started trading songs back and forth. She sent some deep cuts I hadn’t heard, I sent her a remix of one of the House of Balloons tracks. It was going good, but typing everything out was getting annoying as hell.

Liam: this is taking forever lol just call me

Sienna: lmao okay calling

My phone rang almost right away. I picked up quick, leaning back against my headboard.

“Okay so,” she said right away, no awkward small talk, “you can’t tell me Chase Atlantic isn’t just trying to be baby Weeknd.”

I laughed. “He’s reaching but it’s not bad.”

“Admit it.”

“Fine, little brother vibes,” I said, grinning even though she couldn’t see me.

She laughed for real, that bright sound cutting through the quiet apartment. We kept going—favorite albums, random concert stories, arguing about whether sad music actually helped or just made you spiral harder. She didn’t just agree with everything I said like most people did when they were trying to keep the vibe going. She pushed back. Called me out when I was bullshitting.

“Alright but some of it is straight depression fuel,” she said at one point.

“Yeah, but that’s the point. It feels good to sit in it sometimes.”

Later we got on PARTYNEXTDOOR.

“Okay can we talk about how his whole catalog is a straight s*x playlist?” she said, sounding like she was smiling through the phone.

I cracked up. “I was thinking the exact same thing and didn’t wanna say it first.”

“It’s not even subtle,” she went on. “The beats, the way it builds… you know exactly what you’re getting into when you put it on.”

“Some of the lyrics are actually decent if you listen close though,” I said.

“Yeah but who’s listening to lyrics at 2am?” She laughed again. “You’re just in your feelings or trying to get in someone else’s.”

We went on like that for almost two hours. Bullshitting, laughing, jumping from one artist to another. It was easy. No weird tension. No trying to steer the conversation anywhere. Just talking.

Eventually she yawned. “Alright I actually gotta sleep. Early class tomorrow.”

“Yeah me too. Go sleep.”

“Night, Liam.”

“Night.”

The call ended and the apartment got quiet again. But it didn’t feel as empty as it usually did. I stayed up a little longer, listening to the playlist we’d basically started building together.

Next morning my phone buzzed while I was still half-asleep.

Sienna: that song carried my run lol you have good taste

I grinned at the screen like an i***t and replied.

Liam: told you. got a whole playlist if you want

We kept texting all day between classes. Little things—song recommendations, dumb memes, complaints about professors. It just picked up naturally. For the first time in a while, the empty apartment didn’t suck as much when I got back to it later.

I didn’t tell the guys about any of it. They wouldn’t get it anyway. They’d just roast me or make it into something it wasn’t.

This felt… different.

And for once, I didn’t try to talk myself out of it.