Melpomene had found a disaster of a girl in a bathroom upstairs, and had been making friends. Her name was Lacey, and she was lying on the floor with her head in Melpomene’s lap, crying about being too messed up to make a move on the boy she liked. She was lamenting this while composing artful instagram pictures of the bath, the underside of the sink, the bright light above them, and the way tears shone against the curve of her cleavage. “These are the best photos I’ve ever taken,” she sobbed, softly.
College girls were the sweetest. Melpomene stroked her hair and Lacey took a picture of her curls, haloed against the bathroom light. It was a good shot.
Their little party was broken up when two of her other friends found them, relieved to find a bathroom that hadn’t been “literally pissed on." One of them stepped over Melpomene and shut herself in the toilet on the other side of the room, and the third sat down on the edge of the bath, reaching down to hold Lacey’s hand. “We’re going back to the dorm as soon as Sadie’s peed,” she said, and the girl in Melpomene’s lap sniffed in agreement.
Sadie finished peeing and joined them again in the suddenly cramped bathroom while Melpomene and Lacey climbed unsteadily to their feet. Pins and needles shimmered through Melpomene’s legs as Lacey stroked a hand down Melpomene’s face. “So beautiful,” she said mournfully.
“She does this every weekend,” said Sadie, and then, very flustered: “I mean. You are though. Beautiful. I have to go,” she beat a hasty retreat, and bath-girl and Lacey followed.