That girl.

All of us know That girl. We can’t really figure out who she is or what she does. But he likes her better. Actually, he loves her.
Her flowery voice makes them lean towards her, actually listening to what she says. A flick of her wrist and they’re all at her service. As she enters the room, they look up and suddenly you don’t exist. She’s all that matters. You were another distraction anyway. The reason he exists is here now, nothing else matters. Life is easy when she’s around.
She smiles, and so does he. She floats in and out of the room, he follows like a puppy. He laughs at all her jokes, even though they might not be funny. Their laughter crackles through the room together, and reaches that corner you’re in, refilling your drink every chance you get. You look at them and chuckle in mirth.
Someone knocks on your shoulder, you turn your head in that same floaty manner, but it doesn’t really work. A stranger offers you another drink, you take it and thank him for it, trying to flap your eyelids like her, but again it backfires and the stranger asks you if your eyes are okay. You say yes, and get back to staring into empty space.
An hour passes, you can’t really help but notice them still together. It annoys you a little less now, but it still throbs. You finally decide to leave.
But he’s walking toward you, through the crowd, wanting you to be with him, wanting to take you in his arms, wanting to tell you he loves you. Finally.
“Bartender, can I have a Screwdriver, please?” he says.