So. Nothing terrible had happened so far.
The music was a bit loud for her, and there were too many people in quite close proximity, but all of her friends seemed to be having an okay time — some even seeming to be having quite a good time — so she couldn’t really complain. She’d fretted a lot more about how everyone else was feeling; her anxiety around other people having fun was currently higher than her anxiety about being in a crowded space. She’d come into this assuming (correctly) that she’d be sitting on some low-to-medium level anxiety for the whole night anyway. She could still be anxious and have fun, right? So far it seemed to be so.
Still, she was starting to feel like she needed a moment to herself, and was heading upstairs to have one. The second floor, she knew, was a lot quieter than the first, and the top two had been cordoned off, so she assumed it would be quieter again up there. Just as she came to the bottom of the stairs, though, waiting patiently to the side as a couple of boys came down them, Billie watched, alarmed, as two people bumped into each other in the small hall to her left. Someone exclaimed as colourful liquid splashed out of one of their glasses.
Billie’s hand came up to cover her parted lips as the pinkish liquid spilled right down the front of Soléy’s (white!!) dress. She glanced over her shoulder, towards the bathroom behind her. It was occupied, of course, and there were even a couple of people waiting outside. For a moment, Billie was torn between a sudden, burning desire not to be perceived and a more regular desire to help. The latter won out, as it usually did, but she still felt a little guilty about feeling the first one in the first place. “Soléy? Hi,†Billie said, letting go of the staircase banister and coming up to her quickly. “Did you want to use the upstairs bathroom?†She offered, “I can take you?â€
