Party

So I'm trying to write something from a guy's perspective...

It is another of those burning parties without sophistication, where you have a drink in your hand before the first girl turns up. By the time one does they’re a roaring crowd of heads, grinning and sheepish in the flush of their first can. He knows he’s the best looking guy there so he doesn’t go greet the girls but stays with the music, knowing that they like music, like people who can talk about music. It’s why he’s in a band. When he sees her eyes across the room he stays where he is, although he traces them to a body soon, and waits for her to come to him. She doesn’t. He thinks about the meaninglessness of the relationships which are budding around him, of the hugs bestowed on him by girls – small pixie like ones, lengthier ones. 

The party passes without disaster – he finds himself looking down at her from the stairs, her sat hunched over her phone in an anorak, her legs folded beneath her. They talk after they find themselves alone in a room getting drinks, her laughing slightly hysterically in embarrassment when she knocks over a drink. There are gold plastic stars stuck in the loose-knit of her hat. He just smiles into the expanse of her eyes.

He looks down at his bare feet on the wet tarmac of the road outside the house. She walks up to him and kisses him on the cheek, and he’s too slow to turn his head to catch her mouth, so he clumsily kisses the softness of her wooly hat, wishing he knew what she was thinking. Her boots clunk over to her car and the lights of it reflect glassily off the sheen of the rain as it draws away. He stands, his head turned towards the light of her phone in the darkness of the car, watching as she pulls out of his life. The car turns a corner and is gone. He realizes he is standing in the cold rain of October in the middle of a road in an empty town. There is the noise of a car in the other direction, and headlights light up his silhouette as the car roars towards him. He slowly wanders back towards house, the empty sounds of party poppers sparkling in his ears.

 

Author's Note

It's not finished, obviously, but any ideas on whether it's realistic or at least interesting would be lovely.