Peter staggered out of his room, rubbing his eyes. He should have waited a minute before he started walking. After a few seconds his eyes focused and he started walking normally. He still bumped his shoulder into the doorframe entering the kitchen.
“You’re coming to the party tonight,” George, his roommate said while Peter poured himself a glass of water.
“So get a shower, stinky,” the third person sharing the apartment, Steven, called from the other room.
“I don’t know,” Peter started, but his roommate cut him off.
“You need to get out, you’ve done nothing but nap and eat for a week now.”
Peter sighed. “Fine. When are we heading out?”
“Think you can look human in two hours?”
“I dunno, I’m a bit out of practice,” Peter answered automatically, feeling his cheek twitch the corner of his mouth into a half-smile to indicate sarcasm. Maybe he really was ready to go talk to people, after all.
Returning to his room – without stumbling or bumping into anything – Peter looked at the mess. The rumpled sheets were twisted up and full of sweat stains, his plain grey comforter hanging half off the bed. Neither pillow looked pillow-shaped, and both were at odd angles. His carpet couldn’t be seen through the underwear, sweatpants, and t-shirts that hadn’t made it to his hamper. They were all stained and holey. The desk he had jammed in the corner opposite his bed was covered in the usual mess, but also dirty dishes and a layer of dust. Peter sighed.
First things first, he thought, and pulled up the blinds. The light of the setting sun left his eyes feeling like they were burning, but he felt around and managed to slide the windows open. Clothes in hamper, bed stripped, and a trip to the dishwasher later, Peter was debating just leaving his desk as it was. He didn’t, though.
Sneezing with puffy eyes, he grabbed his robe and hopped in the shower. The bathroom looked filthy, but it just needed renovating that badly from the abuse of previous tenants. Showering felt good, and as usual Peter was wondering why he hadn’t been doing so daily. Shaving, however, was difficult, leaving him with several nicks. Maybe he should have gone with some facial hair, he thought, looking at the spreading blood on his neck and jaw.
Shrugging, Peter returned to his room yet again. Hair combed and deodorant applied, he started digging through his closet for something he could wear out in public. Preferably something that wasn’t business-casual.
Following his roommates down a downtown residential street, Peter wasn’t paying much attention to the conversation. Tripping over an uneven bit of concrete, he looked around, not recognizing where they were.
“Where are we heading? Have I even met these people?”
“I don’t think so, but there will be some people around you already know.”
“Besides us,” Steve interjected.
“I’m gonna check my GPS, we may not be on the right street.”
That wouldn’t surprise Peter at all. He belatedly realized it was a bit late to ask questions about the party he had agreed to go to. Rolling his eyes at himself, he nearly missed it when his roommates cut right down a fenced path between some houses. To blocks over, it was fairly obvious which house was having a party: People spilled out onto the front steps and the music was a bit loud.
Taking a deep breath, Peter braced himself to venture into a house with what seemed to be a hundred or so people drinking.
Crossing the front lawn – a pitiful thing he couldn’t lay down on straight out – there was cheering, and they were ushered inside. From the outside, the house looked something between Victorian and Gothic Revival. Inside, there were hints that the building was likely more than a century old, but it had also obviously been recently updated.
Having been pointed down the hall to the kitchen, Peter still trailed behind his roommates. He couldn’t make out what anyone was saying, and flashing lights somewhere threatened to bring on a headache.
“And this is our roommate, Peter,” he heard, as a hand slapped him on the back and shoved him forward a few steps. He smiled and shook the proffered hand but had no idea who this guy was. Probably their host.
“Beer?” he was asked. He started to shrug but changed it to a nod, taking the solo cup filled from a keg. It wasn’t the worst thing he had ever tasted, but it certainly wasn’t something he would choose to buy for himself.
Peter stood awkwardly while George and Steven had a conversation he couldn’t follow with Henry, the owner of the house. Given his age, Peter suspected it was actually Henry’s parents who owned the house, but he kept that thought to himself.
“Beer gone already? Help yourself!” Peter found himself being guided over to the keg, where his cup was refilled. He didn’t know the guy. He looked around and saw George stepping out the back door and Steven heading down the hall.
Smiling and raising his cup before taking a sip, Peter started for the back door, figuring he would find it more comfortable out there, but he caught sight of a familiar face and quickly turned for the hallway instead. A fellow he knew as Nick who he found rude and a bit cruel had been out there. He hoped the other people he “knew” here weren’t similar cases.
There was a DJ set up in the dining room, and the room was packed with sloppy drunks doing their vaguely rhythmic flailing. Peter tried the living room. No Steven, but a girl grabbed his wrist yelling “shots!” and dragged him to a bar in the corner. He didn’t even ask what it was, he just dutifully tossed it back and tried not to let the burn show on his face. No chasing with beer for him, though he could. He just found it tasted horrible.
“Debbie,” the girl said, leaning in.
“Peter,” he answered, wondering why she was paying any attention to him.
“How do you know Jenny?”
“Who is Jenny?”
“The birthday girl!”
“My roommates know Henry, and they decided I needed to leave the apartment.”
“Oh … I thought it was only her friends here but makes sense. ‘Nother shot?”
“Okay,” he probably shouldn’t, as he was already feeling it, but what else was he supposed to do here? Down went another shot he didn’t ask about.
“What do you do?”
“I was doing some coding, but the company folded. What about you?”
“Content creator! Wanna dance?”
Peter hesitated, but she missed it, and he was dragged to the next room. He just realized she hadn’t let go of his wrist since spotting him. He awkwardly tried to imitate those around him, only to have his knee give out and take an elbow to the nose as he went down. Hands grabbed his upper arms, and he was hoisted up and deposited on the front steps. The cool air felt nice.
Leaning against the railing, he closed his eyes and smiled despite the pain.
“What are you doing out here?” Peter woke to a punch in the shoulder, meaning he must have dozed off. George was there, looking for something.
“Some girl dragged me to the dance floor, and I fell, got elbowed in the face. Sat here hoping the buzz might lessen.” His words were oddly slurred, his voice weird.
“Ouch, let’s get that nose dealt with, huh? Ready to stand?”
“Mm hmm. Didn’t tell me it was Jenny’s birthday.”
“You don’t know Jenny, do you?”
“Nope. Least I don’t think so.”
“You sound funny.”
Peter chose not to respond. In the kitchen people laughed, but someone felt his nose and said “sorry” before grabbing and yanking. It wasn’t pleasant. Next thing he knew a hot facecloth was scrubbing his face and a bag of ice being shoved at him. “I think I’ve got a place for you to lay down.”
Next thing he knew he was in the basement on a couch that had seen better days. Setting a timer for twenty minutes, Peter lay back and put the ice in place.
“You’re some clumsy,” a voice said.
Peter didn’t uncover his eyes to look. “Too much time sitting at a desk.”
“You could have just said no to the dancing.” Oh, it was Debby again.
“Didn’t give me much time. Didn’t know my knee was so weak.”
“Can I make it up to you?”
“Not like it was your fault.”
“Still.”
“My head hurts too much for this conversation.”
Debby laughed and he felt a tug at his fly. Just as her hand was slipping in to explore, thumping footsteps came down the stairs and she jumped.
“What, nobody interested in your infected cooch so you gotta resort to taking advantage of the unconscious guy?”
“I’ve tested clean three months in a row, I’ll have you know!” Without looking it was hard to tell, but he thought Debby stormed off.
“See, there’s a pool table here. Just have to move some boxes.”
Peter lay there while they grunted and thumped around. When a light turned on and he heard them racking up, he figured it was time to move. His alarm went off as he moved the ice. Standing was a bit unsteady, but he started up the stairs just as someone broke, starting the game.
Peeking into each room, he didn’t see anyone he knew. Peter was thinking he should just give up on the party, go home. An arm wrapped around his waist.
“Come meet the birthday girl, Peter!”
Of course it was Debby. She steered him out the back door onto the deck and pushed him up to a bench where two girls were sitting. Peter thought he saw Nick out of the corner of his eye, but he was trying to be polite.
“Jenny?” He asked. “Debby tells me I have to meet the birthday girl.” So much for being polite.
“Does she? Well, hi,” she looked at Debby. “How about you go find him something to drink?”
“I’m Peter,” he said as Debby did as she was asked.
“How did you wind up here?”
“Uh, my roommates, George and Steven, decided I needed to get out of the apartment and insisted I come here with them. I guess they know Henry somehow.”
“Interesting. I think my brother invited too many people. I’m surprised the cops haven’t shown up yet.”
“There are about a hundred times as many people as I’d want around on my birthday. Enjoying it?”
“Of course. Just so you know, your fly is down.”
There was an awkward silence as Peter had run out of things to say and hadn’t fully processed what had just been said. He glanced around to see if Debby was back with his drink yet, but only saw Nick. Zipping up his fly, he felt like someone was breathing on the back of his neck.
Hands grabbed his pants and yanked down, hard. The button popped off, pinging Jenny between the eyes and ricocheting into her drink. Nick’s laughter started behind him and faded as he walked away.
“Nick you dick!” Jenny screamed.
Peter looked at his button in her glass and held out his hand. Jenny looked at it and made a disgusted face. The girl sitting next to her grabbed the drink and chugged it, sticking her tongue out. It was Peter’s turn to make a face as he carefully plucked his button from the stranger’s tongue.
Bending down to pull his pants back up, something slapped his butt, hard. He could hear Debby giggling. “I don’t suppose you know where I can find a needle and some thread?” he asked Jenny.
“Best I can do is a safety pin.”
“What’ll it cost me?”
“Don’t worry, I’ll take it out of Nick’s hide.”
“Sounds good. I think I’ve had enough partying for one night. Nice meeting you.” He took the safety pin she had pulled out of her purse and turned, heading back in to find a bathroom. Debby offered him the drink she had gotten him. He downed it and walked right on past.
Peter’s phone chimed. A text message. He had made a few wrong turns before he found somewhere he recognized, but he was on his way to his own bed. The text was from George, asking where he was hiding. He sent back that he was tired and halfway home.
There was a flash of light and the sounds around him changed significantly. Looking up from his phone, Peter was confused. This definitely wasn’t somewhere he had ever been. It looked like an old European town.
The sound of running behind him caused him to turn just as two men crashed into him.