Jane slowly sat up in bed. Her hair was messy and stiff, soaked in the smells of a revelrous night.
What an odd dream she'd had. A strange man was standing at the entrance of a spacious ballroom. He wore a purple windbreaker and carried a small backpack — a look that didn't belong on the golden marble floor.
She remembered thinking he was pretty, and she wanted to dance with him. But as Jane took her first step, someone pulled her into a tango.
The intruder looked at her panicked face and said: "No, no, don't worry. Just for a minute."
The dream ended there, but Jane knew what happened next.
She had danced with the devil.
Peter was sleeping peacefully by her side. His face was almost sunken into the pillow, his arm falling across the empty space on the bed.
Draped over the sofa were their blazers, which could explain her vague memory of being rolled over from left to right and the gentle voice telling her to "let go".
Oh my god! What had she done!
Jane dragged her hand across her face and took a deep breath. Like a criminal, she gathered her clothes and tiptoed towards the door.
Out in the bright lights, the club looked less glamorous and more "real". Cleaners were sweeping up the confetti, balloon scraps, and whatever got left on the floor. They didn't dare to wake the people sleeping on the couch, however.
The fresh morning air was a stark contrast to the debauched underground. Jane didn't understand what a walk of shame was until now, when she sped past the few students wandering the campus, hoping no one would notice the ragged scent of alcohol, perfume, and cigarettes clinging to her body.
Jane unlocked the door to find Amelia sitting in the living room. The round clock on the wall pointed to 8:30, which was too early for either of them.
Though surprised, she didn't stop and went straight to the bathroom.
Hot water poured down from the rain shower, steaming up the mirror and chasing away the fog in her mind.
Last night didn't end there.
Two minutes later, his friends joined them. She remembered dancing to the music until her stomach ached, taking even more shots, and eventually having to be held upright by Peter.
Jane buried her face in her palms. She sank to the floor, letting the water run over her body until her fingers wrinkled up.
She had a lot of fun, but at what cost? She couldn't even tell if they laughed with her or were laughing at how sloppy she was. Jane lightly hit her head against the wall. And if that weren't bad enough, she had another battle to fight out there.
Amelia turned from the couch as soon as the bathroom door opened. They stood face to face. Amelia's polished nails shone as she tapped them against her chin, while Jane stood there with water dripping from her towel-wrapped hair.
"You're still pathetic—"
Jane didn't even blink. She passed right by Amelia's shoulder and went straight to her bedroom. Whatever Amelia had to say next couldn't be something useful.
"Come back here you coward! You have never been to a club before, and we can..." Amelia's rant was eventually muffled behind the closed door.
Jane had experienced a few moments of regret — when she went to lunch by herself, standing alone during outdoor classes, or taking another route to Amelia and her group. But those days were long gone, and now she could confidently say, she would rather be alone than have a friend like Amelia.
That state of harmony only lasted until evening, when Jane sat at her desk. Her eyes kept darting between the clock and the entrance, praying time could run faster.
But of course, he arrived.
Peter stepped through the door like a breath of fresh air. A few loose strands of hair teased against his eyes, giving him a more relaxed look. He caught her glance from across the room and held it steady as the gap between them closed.
Jane looked away. Why was he looking at her that way? Would he say something? Should she say something first?
"Have a good night?" Shit. She meant to say sleep.
The mistake didn't stop him from answering. "Yes, if the one who started everything didn't run away."
Oh no, here he goes.
"I… I need the bathroom," Jane stuttered and gave him a blank stare.
"There's a bathroom there."
"I'm not used to… other toilets. You know. That weird, cold sensation...," Jane said, her eyes wandering as she started rambling.
A little scoff pulled her attention back.
"I'm not here to talk about the bathroom. I'm here to talk about what happened last night," Peter said. His tongue pressed between his teeth, preparing for his next line.
"—Sorry."
The word slipped from her mouth like it had been waiting to do so. "I didn't mean to… jump on your lips. I don't know what got into me."
Peter's eyebrows raised slightly, swallowing whatever he was about to say. But the surprise slowly turned to concern as he looked at Jane's bowed head and realized one wrong sentence would send their relationship to where it began.
"But don't you have fun?"
The shift in his tone made Jane raise her head. Peter was staring at her; his expression was firm, like an authority lecturing a student.
"You either commit to your desire fully, or don't do it at all. Otherwise, you would only drown in guilt. Feel it, Jane. Which one made your heart beat faster? Which one felt impossible to deny?"
His words pulled Jane out of melancholy. So that was what she was feeling, guilt. The smartest way to save herself from it was to turn around and walk away. But she had just tried this, how could she give it up now?
"You're right. Feel better now, thanks," she said. Her face reflected the calmness of someone who had finally made their decision. One month. She would let herself indulge for one month, as the last gift to her human life.
"And I was supposed to be the one who said sorry,"
"It wasn't a mistake, Jane. You and I both know that," Peter said. He smiled at her charmingly, but the look in his eyes also held a flicker of seriousness. "You liked me."
Jane didn't reply or blush at the bold assumption. She only stared back at him and asked, "Do you like me?"
Peter remained silent. She could tell he wanted to say something by the way his mouth opened and closed, but eventually nothing came out of his mouth.
"Don't throw the words out so easily, Peter. I can't handle it. You want to play, I can play. But don't make it seem so serious when it isn't."
"Are you sure?" he asked. "I will only offer this position once."
"Sure."
She liked Peter, she admitted, and his invitation was tempting. But liking alone wasn't enough to sustain a relationship. It was a weird thought that had been laughed at as they weren't getting married or anything, but Jane had seen many of her peers falling in and out of love, and she didn't want to be one of them.
"Is it because of my reputation?" Peter suddenly asked.
"No," Jane gave him a comforting smile, but the silence that followed exposed her lie. She didn't have a single thing to back it up.
"What if I actually stay clean and wait until you change your mind?" he asked, his voice drooping. "Would you consider it?"
It was Jane's turn to be surprised, but that surprise was soon swallowed by a wave of panic. No, do not even think about this. He wouldn't be able to do it, and she would end up in the trash like a used tissue.
"Come on, don't torture yourself like that. You're the player," Jane said, forcing a convincing laugh. And that is exactly why I couldn't like you, she thought, but she wouldn't say that out loud. "And I say I can play with you, I just don't want to bind us in anything."
Shit. Jane felt like she was digging herself into an even bigger hole. But letting him go? No. Getting into a real relationship? Also no.
"Something above friendship but less than… that. You know.'
He did know. It wasn't that he had never been in a nameless relationship before, but usually, he was the one setting the tone.
"Sure." He smiled and pressed his lips to her cheeks right before the bell rang. A familiar sense of victory crawled its way back as he took in Jane's frozen expression. "Can't wait to have fun with you."