Forget Me Too

One

A song I heard for the first time is blasting off the speakers. About 25 people are dancing in the middle of the massive living room and 600 others surround them. Just kidding, not 600, perhaps eighth of that. Either way, it's a lot.

They are walking around or chatting or doing whatever else you do at a party. I, on the other hand, am sitting silently in one corner, enjoying my sangria.

Parties aren’t really my thing, but being a loner isn’t either. I smile back at those passing by, I engage in small talk with whoever comes and goes. Gosh, I’m nailing this social butterfly behavior.

Who am I kidding? With all these familiar faces, you won't think I belong with the crowd at all. They're not familiar because I've seen them before personally. They are because you see them on TV!

I think I saw Maggie Turner, the lead actress of that blockbuster slasher movie I forgot the title of. Blood-something-something.

Trust me, you wouldn't expect a crowd like this. The only reason I agreed to come was because I couldn't decline. Not when I was guilt-tripped the whole week into coming. Besides, my roommate suggested it could be a good change of scene. At least from the boring apartment I spend my weekends in by watching documentaries on Netflix while sketching.

Or so I thought.

The scene wasn’t any better, particularly not this one beside me. A couple started making out and they seem to be going further.

No. I did not sign up for live p**n.

Standing up, I look for an empty, quiet spot—which was impossible in this place. The crowd seems to double every minute, faster than bacteria cells. I end up stationed between the living room and the kitchen, panning side to side like a stand fan.

That is until a pat on my shoulder, accompanied by a loud greeting, takes my attention.

"Oli! Glad you came!"

"Yeah..." I spin to see whoever slapped my shoulder hard (it hurts, you know) even though I know exactly who. It's the person hosting the party—Jae. I met him during the exchange student program I entered. We were the only people from the same university and sticking with what’s familiar was the Department Head’s advice. Especially when you barely know the foreign country’s language. Though I quit after one semester, whereas Jae right here stayed for more than a year, therefore his Welcome home party commence.

"Are you enjoying yourself?" It’s obviously not something you ask someone who’s standing alone in the middle of a crowded room, but he probably asked everyone this. I nod reluctantly, distracted by a very specific person—another reason I wanted to stay on the sidelines. It’s almost impossible to focus within his presence.

"Oh, by the way," he looks behind him and pushes the person he's with. "This is Caleb, you know him, right? Thirdhand." His eyebrows go up and down.

Thirdhand is one of the most popular bands these days. You’ll hear their songs at least five times a day, every day on every radio station. "And Caleb, this is Oli." Jae wraps an arm over my shoulders as I catch the split-second Caleb of Thirdhand frown. Of course, I know him. Everyone knows Caleb, guitarist of Thirdhand. Everyone knows Thirdhand. I shake his outstretched hand as a gesture of courtesy because that's what they do when meeting new people, right? Except he holds it a second too long.

"Do know each other?" Jae asked, looking perplexed.

I immediately deny before the other party could speak. He flashes a bright smile he always gives people.

"Anyway... is that Cassy Graham? s**t, she came?" Jae says, looking somewhere behind me. "I'll be back... Or not." He disappears into the crowd.

Cassy Graham is another blockbuster actress, for a rom-com movie. I don’t know how he managed to bring the big names, though I guess it makes sense if it’s Jae. Us being friends is an evidence. He attracts a good load of attention from all sorts of people. He even dragged this one specific guy on board.

"I didn't know you were here," the man Jae left beside me speaks.

I don't even dare look at him as I mimic his, "I didn't know you were here.” and add “I shouldn't have come."

The last part was intended for myself only, then I figure it's better that he knows too.

Perhaps he thought I was joking because he chuckles. The one that I’m a little too familiar with. Before he could say anything else, a throng rushes forward, making me tumble—and almost fall, if not for a hand that gripped my left arm. He pulls me closer to him, enclosing me inside his arms. God knows how much I want to escape this man, but God doesn’t seem to favor me at the moment.

“You changed your shampoo.”

My face instantly switches to a scowl. How the hell did he know that?

“Well, it’s not so nice meeting you too, creeper.” I attempt to break away but another horde of drunk young-adults stampede to the kitchen. As much as I despise the thought, I’m thankful for the strong arm around me.

"Let's go somewhere more… quiet."

Rather than hear, I felt his breath over my ears. Those words were awfully familiar. So much that it sent a weird sensation through my whole body. One that isn’t at all welcome.

"Yeah, whatever."

He grins sheepishly. Another thing I’m extremely familiar with. This person isn't Caleb of Thirdhand anymore, it's the Caleb that knew. Caleb Shin.

"I haven't seen you in a while." He says as we make our way out to the garden where the crowd is thinner. The small garden is bordered with bushes on both sides and some flowers in the middle. We settle on one of the plant boxes I’m pretty sure wasn’t meant for sitting on.

It was indeed more… quiet here. Behind the bushes at the very back of a friend’s house, away from the loud and sweaty party. Exactly the spot where magic could happen. I perish the thought.

"I didn't want you to."

"Ow!" He slaps his chest, acting hurt. "That's too much, Oli."

Call me rude or whatever, but it's true. As much as possible, I want to distance myself from this person. We meeting was a recipe for trouble. It has been since I mistook his palm for an ashtray.

*

"s**t!" 20 percent of soberness came into me when a boy beside me yelped too loudly. 10 more percent upon realizing why he shouted.

"Crap! I’m sorry!" I pulled the cigarette bud away from his hand, pushing it on the bar counter instead. "Are you okay?"

Stupid question to ask a person who just had a first-degree burn from a stranger’s cigarette bud. And the stranger being the one asking the stupid question. Before he could utter a word, I pulled his hand to my face. It was pretty bad.

“It’s fine.” The boy said with a grimace. Clearly, it’s not.

Apparently, a bad injury and my alcohol-filled system don’t make a good pair. Panic rose.

I pulled his hand again, completely unconvinced by his words. “Come on,” I dragged him across the club to where the toilets were. It was a long journey considering how packed the place was. I had to scream ‘Excuse me’ fourteen times just so we could walk through. The boy probably said something, but it was difficult to hear anything from the blaring EDM. When we finally reached the toilet, the few other people inside watched as I placed another person’s hand under the faucet, confused why a girl had suddenly burst into the men’s room. I heard him grunt. After a minute or two, they all decided the scene wasn’t weird enough for their interest. They should be minding their own businesses anyway. Not mine. My business was letting water run on this person’s burnt skin while I rap my apology.

I’m fifty percent sure he didn’t catch all my words because of how fast I was speaking. Could you blame me though? It was my first time physically hurting someone. Apart, of course, from that time I accidentally pushed my kindergarten classmate too hard on the swing, he fell down, causing a bleeding nose.

It wasn’t until someone whistled that I realized how awkward our position was. I’m sandwiched between the sink and this boy whose left arm was in between mine and my torso. From various angles, it could easily be mistaken as a not-so-appropriate body placement.

In my defense, it’s necessary. It’s first aid!

I may be drunk, but I know first aid. Nevertheless, I attempted to reposition myself to a lower age rating. Maybe R-15, preferably lower.

I failed. Instead of giving me space to move, he stepped closer, pressing himself on my body and me, on the sink. It was bad enough that I injured someone due to drunkenness, now that certain someone was grinding on me. I really should stop going to clubs.

“Uhm, can you move a little?” I politely asked to show some decency. He did not budge, instead said, “Uhm, can you not use a person’s hand as an ashtray?” I barely saw his grin through the mirror because he inched even closer to my right. Now I’m stuck between him, the sink, and the wall. Wow.

“Don’t look.” Was something you don’t tell someone if you really don’t want them to look. It was his mistake for doing so. Thanks to that, my curiosity was fueled and in the corner of my eye, I peeked at what he was hiding me from. It was my mistake for doing so. A drunk man was completely missing the urinal, waving his genitals all over the wall. I groaned.

“Gross.” I whispered, but he’s too pressed on me (literally) to hear. He snorted, “Told you not to look.” I couldn’t help rolling my eyes. “Thanks, genius.”

He was laughing when he replied, “What did I do?”

“Telling someone not to look will make them want to look. Are you dumb?” It’s common knowledge that those kinds of warnings were invitations in disguise. Was it not?

“Woah there, lady. Easy with the names. You’re confusing me.” Now he couldn’t stop laughing.

“Whatever.” I rolled my eyes again.

“So what am I exactly? Genius or dumb?”

“How about you shut up.” I met his eyes through the mirror only to be welcomed by his cocky grin. I failed to stop myself and blurted out, “Dumbass.” His smile grew bigger to an annoying grin.

“Wrong,” he said. “It’s Caleb.”

“What?” I looked at him, crossing my eyebrows.

In all honesty, I knew what was happening, only I was processing everything slower than usual and partly because I did not want the path we were going. Well, not yet.

“I’m Caleb, and you?” He pulled his hand from the faucet, placed it on my shoulders, and twisted my body to face him. It’s bad, it’s bad, it’s bad, kept repeating inside my head.

For the love of god, I went to the club to accompany my friend who was meeting a guy he met online. My getting a teeny tiny bit drunk was already outside the plan. This, whatever’s happening here, was totally, completely, not included in my clubbing itinerary.

“Oli,” I said. His face was the only spot I could lay my eyes on. Which was bad, considering how good he looked. The bridge of his nose had a cute shape, the ones that were curvy but have a pointy tip. His eyes had a light brown tint on the edges of the pupil, making it look like it’s shining. And everything looked angular and soft at the same time. Staring at him was so satisfying.

“You like what you see?” He said in a playful yet low tone that resonated through my whole body.

I bit my lip. “Not at all.”

What happened next was a bit of a blur for me, mostly because I did not want to admit that I did it.

“Okay.” He pulled away from the sink—from me—and was ready to leave except somehow, and for some reason, I did not want to know, I pulled him back, meeting his lips with mine.

I felt him grin, then laugh against my mouth. His hand traced my tight jean-covered leg before lifting me up the sink. That way we’re almost at the same height. I didn't realize he was so tall he was until I had to tiptoe and tilt my head at an uncomfortable angle just to meet his face. My hand found his hair. The strands twirl around my fingers.

And for I didn't know how long, I was just there, sitting on the sink, feeling a stranger's hand rub all over my back and his lips against mine. s**t. I pulled away.

"You good?"

I blinked before looking at him when I finished scanning the restroom. I was so preoccupied with kissing this man that I forgot I was in a club's men's room. Not once in my life have I pictured myself in this situation. What more this position! Good thing there was no one aside from us. I sighed in relief.

Caleb caught on and smiled sheepishly. "So we're safe, yeah?" He was tapping a rhythm on the bottom of my back.

All I could respond was a 'yes' that translated to a moan because he started with my lips again, and this time it was deeper. This definitely escalated quickly and, for all I knew, we could have stripped right there and then. I mustered the tiniest portion of control over the man, then pulled away. He groaned in displeasure.

"One second, perv." I grabbed on his shoulder as he helped me down. It was already embarrassing that I was inside the men's room, what more, making out with someone. We're not even in a cubicle.

As if on cue, a noisy group of young men came in. Caleb placed an arm a little over my shoulder and veered me to where the door was. It was nice of him to try shielding me from all the other people present. Though making out with him was way nicer.

"Should we go somewhere... quiet?"

I shivered from his breath in my ear. I swallowed the tingle I almost wished I never had but the alcohol was speaking to me way too loudly. No matter how much I denied it, I knew deep down (and I mean, down there) that I wanted it.

"Sure."

There goes my worst decision ever.

*

"Earth to Oli," Caleb snaps his fingers, which made me snap back to reality.

"What?"

"I said there is a mass murderer and everyone else is dead aside from us, so I could really use another head here to make our escape plan."

I raise one eyebrow, taking a sip from my glass. "Haha, funny."

He crosses his legs and laughs lightly before speaking again. It seems like I'm not the only one who wasn't expecting this reunion. "I said, it's nice to see you again. How have you been? You changed your number."

Or maybe not.

Perhaps because I stayed secluded in the past year, except for very rare occasions when I couldn't say no; such as this. My average social skills have degraded even more. It's especially hard since this one I am attempting to read is the ever-changing Caleb Shin. One moment you're just making out with him in the men's room, the next you see him in magazines, endorsing Versace. I'm already privileged enough to know nicks and pieces about him.

"I had a stalker situation."

He jerks up, looking purely concerned. "Really?"

"No, my phone fell off the pool," I say apathetically.

Both were true. Well, kind of true. My previous phone didn't fall into the pool, I threw it. Someone kept on calling me and I got fed up, so I said, bye phone—and everything else on it. I regretted it right after, but all I could do was... well, deal with it. What's done was done.

"You've changed."

"Yeah?" I down the last drops of sangria in my glass. Bummer. It's supposed to be my excuse to not talk.

From the corner of my eye, I see him shake his head slowly, a small fond smile creeping on his lips. Like when parents look at their children's baby pictures. Then his expression turns flat. The children probably didn't grow up as nicely as they wanted them to be.

"You've changed." I said, stressing on 'you'. "I'm not the one on the billboard in main street." He has to know that between the two of us, the one who actually had a 180 was him while I stayed as the struggling art student that I am.

"No.” The tone of his voice is laced with frustration, I almost laugh. I bite my lip to stop a snicker. Good thing he's not looking at me.

The now-empty bottle of beer lands on the pavement as if saying his full attention is completely mine now. My body stiffens in response to him moving closer. Call it luck that he hesitates, closing in only a foot.

"Not like that. You... you're..."

The words fade out and I wait for him to continue, instead, he looks up at the sky. "I don't know, Vi."

Vi. God, how long has it been since the last time I heard that? He's the sole person who calls me that. Insisted how unfair it was that I got to call him all sorts of things while he's stuck with calling me the generic name everyone uses. His fans would be surprised at how sentimental he really is. I saw in a magazine, they labeled him cool and collected—not that I read magazines he’s in.

I squeeze my eyes shut before I walk down memory lane.

"So, I didn't change?" I irk, half expecting a clever reply, but he sighs in defeat. Which, in all honesty, surprised me. We used to bicker about the smallest, most random things just for the sake of a challenge. Ugh, memory lane.

"How did know Jaeyeong?" The switch of topics is wholeheartedly welcome even though he chose a lame one. Not Jae, disclaimer. The guy's pretty great. Not to mention his amazing sculptures that were already starting to become a big thing. How we met, on the other hand, was not saliva-worthy. We basically got stuck with each other.

"France," I say nonchalantly, however gazing over Caleb makes me realize how vague that was. "We're exchange students."

He makes a quiet 'Oh' sound, adding, "When you suddenly left."

It didn't look like he said that to me. It was almost a whisper. One that's audible within two feet away. I scoff at myself. I guess I did suddenly leave.

"Yep."

"How come he's the only one holding a party then?" There goes the cocky grin and expectant look.

I blow a raspberry, "Do I look like someone who throws a party, you dummy?"

"Yeah, makes sense," he says with a chuckle.

"And I came back earlier than him." I grip on my glass only to remember it's empty to the last drip. Sweet child of Mary, why am I here again? "Even if I did, I wouldn't have invited you."

"Ow!" He clasps a hand on his chest, right where the heart is meant to be. "You're such a sadist, you know that?"

I don't. No one has ever called me that and to be clear, I won't let anyone think that. I can't even picture myself holding those kink paraphernalia, what more, using them on someone. And as far as I can remember, Caleb isn't into the kinky stuff either. Though he could have changed over the years. The thought makes me grimace.

To be clear, I don't have anything against S/M. If you're into that, then, Fifty Shades of Grey yourself to o****m. But Caleb, I can't even dare imagine.

Regardless, I humor him.

"And that makes you the M?" I know the words were wrong the moment they escaped my mouth. And the tone, for Pete's sake, was full of mockery and challenge. With the smug smirk currently plastered on his face, I know he's pleased he had opened this talk.

"I never said we're a pair. But, if you want me to," his eyes flash fake innocence as he crawls even closer to me.

My mind goes into a silent argument about what I should do. Do I move away? Do I stay still? Do I meet him? The latter gets the least vote. I despise myself a little for even considering that. The second option is more probable. With the state of my already stiff body, I could only dream of moving. My eyes that are following his motion and my heart that is beating horses are the only functioning organs in my anatomy.

My breathing stops with him. He's now a few inches away from me. Close enough to feel the heat radiating off his body. "We can try now."

His lip twitches to a smirk in response to my biting mine. Another internal argument starts inside my brain but is cut off by the sheer sound of glass sliding on rough concrete. I mentally cursed.

It's clear he's holding his laughter. "Should I get you another drink, Boss? Don't go 'kay. I'll be right back." He winks, waving the empty glass that was just beside me a moment ago.

And I'm left speechless.

Fuck.

Nevermind. Whatever that is, I'm thankful he's gone. I can finally make my very much awaited escape.

"OH. MY. GOD. Is that Caleb?" Some random girl's squeal made me want to bash my head on the plant box.

Double f**k.

I heard two more squeals from different voices, both having "Caleb" included in their narratives. I peep from behind the bush to see a group of girls chitchatting nearby.

Meeting Caleb is already worst, being seen with Caleb Shin? Equally worst. There is only one way out of the bushes, and he took that route. Leaving now would mean I was with him behind a huge bush, doing whatever on Earth one could think we were doing. I can't risk being caught with Caleb. At least exiting the same cramped space.

Maybe I could climb the wall and exit the property altogether. Nah, totally impossible. The house is enclosed by walls extending about three stories tall of smooth, faded white cement.

My only chance is when these girls leave—if they leave. Or my fortune would be staying here to wait for the party to cease. And of course, for Caleb to come back.

Triple f**k.

How did I even get here? Talking to Caleb is undeniably on me. Okay, I blame Jae a little for practically forcing me to come when I should be peacefully resting in a Caleb-free space at home. Now I’m stuck here for the whole night? Maybe this is my karma for, well… running away. In retrospect, I think I’ve been doomed long ago.

In an attempt to clear my mind from any Caleb-related thoughts, I close my eyes. I wish the sangria was strong enough to knock me out, but one glass wasn’t kicking at all. I doubt five of them would do me any favor. The favor being, if anything goes wrong, I could always use it as an excuse. Blame it all on alcohol.