I lean against the kitchen counter, cup half-empty, scanning the room like I’ve got better things to do. I don’t. It’s just easier pretending. Parties used to be my thing, but now they feel like background noise, another way to kill time.

My knuckles still ache from earlier…stupid move, really. But that’s how it goes. Punch first, regret later. i really should get back on my anti-depressants. I tug the brim of my backward cap down, hiding behind the cocky, bored look everyone expects.

Then I notice them. They’re new, or maybe I just never looked close enough before. Either way, something about the way they stand there, pretending they’re comfortable but clearly feeling out of place, gets to me. It’s almost enough to make me forget I’m supposed to keep my distance.

I push off the counter, clearing my throat, forcing a casual smirk like I haven’t been thinking too hard about this moment.

“Hey,” I say, nodding slightly. “I’m Peter.