Her long brown hair falls over my eyes as an awkward smile peeks out between her lips. I miss that smile, until that memory of my girlfriend dissolves into a drunken yell from below. I venture to look out over the balcony. The flickering yellow lights of La Iguana call for me to escape in lime, tequila, and a fake smile.
Wandering towards the door of the apartment, I slowly descend the stairs in case my footsteps are to be heard by my homestay parents. Once on the street, I feel my feet drag me through the smell of vomit and piss that line the 12 AM cobblestone towards the entrance. I leave my guilt behind the jingle of the door.
Nervously brushing through the crowd of sweaty, glimmering faces, I finally reach the bartender. My shirt hangs just low enough to cover up the sweat stains in the crack of my pants.
“Un shot de tequila por favor.”
Smiling back at my accent, he pushes back a strand of greasy black hair and begins pouring until the yellowed liquid drips from the brim. Before he was even able to place the lime and salt in front of me, I kicked it back.
We are sitting together in the backseat of her car. I ramble on about my feelings.
“Un otra por favor.”
Out of the crowd, a short girl with straightened blonde hair walks into me. She slaps my face.
“Put your hand out.”
“Here, just let me do it for you.”
Taking my hand, she licks the back of it and instructs me to pour the salt where her saliva glistens.
“I am …”
“Just take the shot before I do.”
I knock it down, but before I have the chance to introduce myself she has already bought us another round. The rest of the night dissipates into laughs, phone numbers, and something that happened in a bathroom that was not meant for two people to fit in.
I woke up to moist socks dangling from my feet. Struggling to open my eyes for class, I slowly got up out of my bed. Maybe I was just imagining the past night from a blackout dream after drinking myself to sleep like other nights. But the dark red hickeys reflecting off the bathroom mirror said “You Shithead.”