I had just turned 21, and there he was, asking for my ID. For a second I lost my breath, didn't know where or who I was, but I managed to dig out the small plastic card from my pocket. Our fingers touched when I handed it over. He studied it for a few seconds, then looked up at me, smiled, and said "happy birthday!". I smiled back and said "thanks" before my friends pushed me through the door. I had had no idea that security guards could have such kind eyes. Eyes that warmed my body from the inside more than the shots I had done before.

 

When it became too hot and too crowded and too hard to breathe I told my friends I needed a break. I went out to the smoking area and saw that he was still standing by the entrance. Winter was turning into spring, the night was cold, and small, white puffs of air came from his lips when he breathed. He made small-talk with his colleague. I stood there for a while, watching him, without doing anything else. He wasn't that attractive, really, but his eyes made a bigger impression on me than any other boy had ever made. And then, as if it was a sign, his colleague went in through the door, and there he was. By himself.

 

I made my way between sweaty bodies and longing eyes and wandering hands to the door. When I was a few steps away I slowed down, and my mind caught up with me. What was I doing? What did I think was going to happen? What was I going to say? And then our eyes locked, and I couldn't stop or turn around. I had to walk up to him. Without being aware of what I was doing, I took the last steps up to him, smiled, and said "hello". He smiled back at me, greeted me, and asked if I was already headed home. "You just got here?". So he remembered me. I tried to find the right words, the words that would make him interested in me, and even though I wasn't sure it was the right ones, I got something out. "No, I just wanted to get some air, and I don't know anyone here, and I saw you standing here so I thought maybe we could be alone together". He gave a quick laugh, a kind laugh, and said: "tired of your friends already?". The truth was that I hadn't given a single thought to my friends since I left them on the dacefloor, and I was somewhat surprised to be reminded of their existence. "What? No, but they didn't want to come outside with me". Somehow we had some sort of a conversation. And then his colleague came back, and I had to go back in.

 

I went up to the bar, asked for a glass of water as well as a pen and paper. I wrote some smudged characters on the paper, drank the water in one go, left the pen on the bar, told my friends I had to go, and went to get my jacket. On my way out, I had planned on giving him the wrinkled paper with my name and number, but he wasn't there. I forced my disappointment down my throat, felt how it got stuck somewhere halfway down, and tried to look unfazed as I started walking towards the bus station.

 

A car drove up next to me. I forced eery cell in my body to look unaffected, and tried to hide how hard my hand clutched my keys in my pocket. The person in the car rolled down the window.

 

"Are you going home already?"

 

I turned my head. There he was. Without his uniform, and with a kind smile.

 

No, I was not going home.