muffled music, that once drowned out any remotely deep thoughts, stays trapped behind a heavy metal door. 

wendy leans over the cleanest bathroom sink, looking into her own eyes in the mirror, thinking of some girl who just isn't good for her.

wendy just keeps coming back.

she rinses her face, staring at her nearly-ruined makeup. as if staring will make her girlfriend? no not girlfriend, her date. she hopes that and the party will wash away. she stands there, watching herself as another girl comes in. not to use the bathroom, to do the same as wendy, maybe. wash up a little, wash something away. touch up her makeup. 

they pique each others’ interests. they eye each other, wondering if the other will speak. as for wendy, she hopes the taller girl will speak. long black hair flows sporadically through her fingers, tangled by time out on the dance floor, assumingly. a body tight skirt hugs her hips just right. she wears her frilly top like it’s designer. actually, it might be. this girl is gorgeous; she seems to know it too. 

fortunately, the taller girl does speak. with her eyes trained on wendy, she says they can get out of there, grab some ice cream or something. no drinks. she's got to drive home..

so they do. together, they tug the door open, before carefully snaking their way through the crowd. and the bright red exit-sign over the entrance guides them out. 

they walk away from the party venue with the bass booming, seeming to shake the whole building. neon lights in the windows of a nearby ice cream parlor shine on their faces. and as this savior holds the door open for wendy, they find out their flavor preferences are so different. this girl enjoys mint chocolate, (the toothpaste flavor). wendy can’t stand that flavor, and she learns that she and this mystery girl may not have so much in common. past partying icky feelings away, they’re quite opposite of each other. 

they both kind of realize our own worth by spending time together. they have this epiphany type realization. of course, it's hard to put that into practice. wendy goes back to that girl who isn't good for her, but eventually, she leaves. that girl at the party has her own turmoil that she deals with. maybe some struggle finding herself or something. wendy has no idea. they don't talk about it. they just quietly eat ice cream, visit the local gas station for more snacks, and crack a few small jokes. small talk really. something to pull their minds away.

but it's okay. wendy only has this girl for one night. it's just that, one night. a nice memory.  neither of them ever ask for a name. they don't need it. there doesn't need to be anything more because they both know they’ll see each other again when the time is right.