I need advice. It's okay to be a little mean, just not too much, lol.

Buckle up, buttercups, this is a long one.

Me (18F) and this guy (19M) (who, for the sake of the story, we'll call Mike) had been talking for a long while. Maybe six months.

Mike, however, was into my friend (18F) (who, again, we'll call Sarah, for the sake of the story). You see, Sarah fucking hated him. Every time we'd hang out, she'd go on and on about how Mike was ugly, weird, and how she wishes he'd stop talking to her.

I'd always defended his name, trying to keep his dignity, even though he didn't know what was happening. All he'd do was occasionally talk to her, trying to befriend her.

Well, around four months ago, he gave up on Sarah, and we started talking "more seriously". We spent hours, and I mean, over 10 hours a day talking to each other. Eventually, we decided we'd take eachother more seriously (never calling it a relationship.)

I have philophobia. I can't handle physical closeness, and I told him about it. He said he did not mind, and that he could wait however long I needed for us to do anything (​so much so, I'd never been in a relationship before, and the only kiss I'd had before Mike was a drunken (blackout) one about three years ago. Not to mention the literal blood pressure drop at the idea of holding someone's hand.)

So, although he'd told me he would wait, I still kept thinking about him. It can't be pleasant for someone to not show any affection towards you.

So I told him we needed to stop. That I'm not built for relationships, and that I can't offer him what he needs. That he deserves someone who can handle him emotionally, not someone like me. I apologised, and I was depressed for months (and, as I found out, so was he.)

A few days ago, Sarah threw a party at her place. Mike went. So did a years-long friend of mine, Alex (18M).

Mike had gotten blackout drunk, and so, I sat besides him. I helped him sober up, making sure to take care of him and give him water.

And during that time, I got progressively more sober. I was more aware of what I was doing, but I still felt that lightweight feeling of alcohol.

He kissed me.

I let him.

For two hours, we were all over eachother. We ended up on the floor (as it was a garden party, we were at first admiring the stars (while the others fell asleep, also on the floor))​, me atop of him, and we were just... kissing. Sometimes stopping to laugh. Me, personally, I'd stop just to admire him. To engrave in my memory that it was happening.

We didn't touch eachother, not in the normal way. He was touching all over my back, my thighs, my hair, and I was caressing his stomach, his face, and his back aswell. He was definitely aroused (as was I), and it was unironically the first minimally sexual experience of my life.

I headed to the bathroom, though, and when I came back, we were just. Soft? I'm not sure if that's the word. But I was definitely less shy. I didn't have an issue holding his hand. Or kissing him whenever my heart felt like it.

I ordered an Uber home, and told him he could come with me and Alex, and that the Uber would drop him off at his place. He insisted on staying at Sarah's, because he was going home by bus. I found it strange, but didn't want to seem weird, so I let him stay behind.

The morning after, I texted him. Asked what we should do, now that all of it had happened.

He said it was a mistake. That he wasn't thinking properly. I explained that, for me, at least, it wasn't a mistake. He insisted on it being a mistake, and didn't explain further, just that we should forget about it.

I brou​ght the conversation up to Alex, already shattered that what I thought had meaning was actually just "a mistake", and Alex admitted something that Mike hadn't told me: while I was in the bathroom, Mike had kissed Sarah. (More like Sarah (again, my best?? friend???) kissed Mike, as in, she pulled him in while he just went with it) ​

I talked to Mike about it. He said it was all "a bunch of crazy shit", and that he couldn't look at either of us in the eye. Claiming the night was insane, and that he doesn't want to put meaning into what didn't have any.

Now, I understand. I have to let it go. There's nothing I can do now.

But I keep replaying that night. How he looked at me, how he pouted, his laugh. It's like my brain can't seem to understand that Mike doesn't want me, and likely never truly has.

How can I get over this situation?