The last time

We'd slept together a few times. We'd talk, a bit, but we spent more time in bed than out of bed. Out of bed I'd usually just talk to his flatmates. I called him up and asked him if he'd like to play pool. He said he couldn't because he was busy. He said the same thing the next week. I stopped calling after that.

When I got invited to his birthday party, I went, and drank and smoked until everything became blurry. I would eventually find myself passed out next to the toilet bowl. But before that happened, I noticed, through all the noise and the light, two people whispering to each other and pointing at me. Later, when we played a game, I was told clearly what team I was on; it wasn't the same one he was on. Upstairs, where it was quieter, I asked him if he was uncomfortable with things between us. He said he wasn't.

The last time I spoke to anyone from that group, it was another birthday party, this one coming up the next day. The person organizing it, when calling to confirm my presence, she asked me how things were going. I said that, as always, I loved the single life. Her mumbled, "yeah. Whatever," was what I heard. When I asked her to repeat what she said, she said she didn't say anything. The phone call ended soon after with a "see you tomorrow" from her, and a, "yeah, tomorrow" from me.