House-Party

Cyrus First Person Point Of View

"Get on your back and spread your legs a bit."

The words hit me harder than the thumping bass of the party. I was lifted onto the pool table before I could even protest, eyes wide, heart racing.

The living room was smaller, the crowd of grinning faces tighter, their mocking voices coiling around me like a noose.

It was supposed to be a joke.

A stupid dare.

But now, with everyone staring at me, I couldn't quit. I lay there, looking up at the ceiling, attempting to shut out the sound.

My fists curled around the rim of the pool table, knuckles whitening.

"Come on, Cyrus!" a shout rang out, intoxicated and mocking.

It was a girl who first came forward, laughing as she held a shot glass in one hand.

I could hardly gaze at her, my stomach twisting. Then, just as she was about to lean over me, some guy intervened, chuckling.

"No, no, hold up on that. Isn't Cyrus into men? Let a guy handle it, then!" The words stung, his laughter echoing through the crowd.

Some of the guys began to chant, egging him on, as my face grew warm.

I wanted to disappear. To shrink. But I could not move, could not speak.

As things began to boil over, Arzhel shoved his way through the crowd, his hands upraised as though to placate a riot. "I've got this," he said, his voice even.

The crowd burst into applause and cried, "Arzhy! Arzhy! Arzhy!"-and I knew I was stuck.

My heart thudded as Arzhel bent close to me, his face a whisper from mine, his smile free and untamed.

But when I caught his gaze, I saw the concern flicker there. He was trying to save me, his own way.

He drizzled the tequila onto my body and bent down to my stomach. The icy feel of his tongue on my flesh gave me a shiver.

The room descended into pandemonium, gasps and laughter erupting as Arzhel licked up the trail of tequila from my bared skin, making a big show of it to entertain everyone.

"Damn, Arzhy!" somebody shrieked.

Other guys chimed in with their disgusting remarks, their words slicing through me.

"Bet you like that, huh?"

"Look at him, he's loving it!"

Their laughter felt like a thousand eyes pinning me down, their words twisting in my gut.

I tightened my fists, hoping I was somewhere else.

Arzhel's tongue made its way up my body, slow and purposeful, his hot breath on my neck.

The air was electric, my name now ringing in the air, "Cyrus! Cyrus! Cyrus!" Their voices all blurring into one in a fog of drunk devotion, and for a moment, I didn't know if I was going to faint or vomit.

That's when I jumped up from the table, my stomach churning. I pushed through the crowd, their hands slapping me on the back, their jeers echoing behind me as I stumbled in the direction of the bathroom.

My vision began to blur, and I just managed to make it to the sink before the tequila came back, my stomach churning as I emptied it into the porcelain bowl.

At my back stood laughter more loud than ever.

Phones were in my direction, flashlights on them shining in my eyes as people videotaped my humiliation.

The light was dazzling, turning the tiny bathroom into a stage from which there was no escape.

"Oh man, he's done!" someone chuckled, bringing their phone nearer to my face.

I was trembling uncontrollably. Panic scraped at my chest as the voices around me dissolved to a din of catcalls and bright screens. My head reeled, my breath coming in short gasps.

And then, suddenly, Arzhel appeared, shoving everyone aside as he entered the bathroom. He wrapped his arms around me, his voice soft, "Hey, hey, it's okay. You're okay."

I held onto him, struggling not to sob as he wrapped his arms around me, the mayhem in the bathroom outside receding momentarily.

He reeked of alcohol and perspiration, and his breath was warm against my ear.

"Come on, one more drink. It will help, I promise."

I nodded, my voice cracking. "I just want to go home."

Arzhel sighed, his arms still wrapped around me, his speech slurring from the beverages.

"Alright, alright. we'll go. Just. give me a minute."

He backed away, stumbling and falling against the wall, his face red.

I wiped at my mouth with my hand's back, still shaking as I stared at the mess that I had made.

How had this night strayed so far from me?

We were wondering who would bring us home when, all of a sudden, terrified screams echoed all over the house.

People began scrambling towards the rear door, drinks were spilled, and phones fell.

"The parents are arriving! Run, run, run!"

Within a moment, Arzhel and I shared a glance before he took my arm, yanking me in the direction of the door as we became part of the herd of panicked teenagers, hearts pounding, and terror taking control.

The cold night wind hit my face as we stumbled outside, the noise of laughter and yelling surrounding us.

Teenagers were running in every direction around me, jumping into their cars, still pumped up from the mayhem of the party.

The tension in my chest eased a bit as the wind hit me, clearing my head.

I allowed myself to breathe for a moment.

"This year's gonna be crazy! You can tell!" somebody shouted, and there was a chorus of assent.

Everyone was electric with excitement, all of them laughing and hurrying to their vehicles, their faces gleaming in the dim streetlights.

I looked at Arzhel, who was swaying slightly, still laughing as if nothing had occurred in the house.

He slung an arm over my shoulder, his smile easy. "Told you it'd be fun, Cyrus."

I tried to smile, but the knot in my stomach was still present. Fun was not a term I would have used to characterize what had just happened.

"Where's Parker?" Arzhel slurred, scanning the crowd.