Reunion (1100 words--help needed!)

So I'm pretty weak at writing dialogue or portraying any lengthy interaction, I'd love some help, though I like the beginning and ending.

Here goes:

The ember inched its way down the paper towards his lips as he drew lazily upon the cigarette, a curl of smoke unwinding from its tip. He exhaled slowly, savoring the flow of the smoke, what he thought to be the height of grace. “I wonder how many people came to this thing just to get laid,” he mused as if to no one in particular.

“Excuse me?” she replied, losing the train of thought she had been silently following and removing the smoking butt from her mouth.

The two stood at the edge of an uproar, on the precipice of a crowd of drunken twenty-somethings, smoking cigarettes on the patio of a trendy and expensive bar. Neither had been smokers when they had been in high school.

They were both twenty-three. The girl still had a youthful glow to her cheeks, which had filled out somewhat since graduation (she no longer found herself with the time or energy to keep fit that she once had). Her eyes, blue, were still round and large, though they had already begun to glaze over with the drink. Her hair framed her face in auburn ringlets; it had a healthy sheen to it. She had dressed for the weather in premium, pale blue denim, thigh high brown suede boots (with sensible heels), and a red pea coat. Though she was perhaps a little plumper now, the past five years had not at all been unkind.

The boy, however, was changed. She hadn’t recognized him at first—his face was leaner, almost wolfish. His hair, once unkempt and shaggy, constantly being brushed from his eyes, was now short and neatly tucked aside. His eyes seemed to be constantly searching, his brow furrowed. The way the orange lamplight played across his face, she couldn’t quite tell what color his eyes were (they were brown); the very same lamplight did, however, add some color to his cheeks, which might have seemed an ashen pallor in the light of day. He wore a black leather jacket—too tight at the shoulders, torn (but similarly expensive) jeans, and a pair of dirty black Converse.

“You know. For whatever the reason. To fuck someone they couldn’t, back in high school.”

“Um,” she lifted her drink to her lips, taking a sip, “why do you say that?”

“Because they can now. Because it’s easier.”

“I’m not sure…” her words trailed off, and she screwed up her face trying to find the right words. In the end, “What do you mean?” was all she came up with.

“Well, some people didn’t know how to flirt, or even how to act at things like this. Some people, I’m sure, couldn’t approach their crush a few years back. But now, with an unlimited supply of liquid courage, maybe they can. Or maybe they’re banking on a nostalgic confession of past unreasoning fondness to cash in on for an easy lay. Or any endless number of reasons. All I’m saying is, I bet a lot of people figured getting laid here would be easy.”

“So just because it might be easier for some people, you think that a bunch are just here to hook up with someone?” She had shifted her weight to her left foot, now, and defensively crossed her arms over her stomach, her drink and her cigarette tucked away at opposite sides.

“Actually, I’d take a step further. I’d say that most of the people here are only looking to get some action. I think pretty much everyone here at least has it in mind, even if it’s not their primary motive.”

“I’m not quite sure you aren’t overestimating your classmate’s sex-drives.”

“But are you sure you aren’t underestimating their drives? And they’re not my classmates. Not anymore.”

“Wow. You think everyone’s that shallow?”

“Yeah,” he replied, without a hint of malice. “Because why else would anyone wanna surround themselves with everyone they hated or ignored or didn’t care enough about to keep in touch with, from high school?”

The girl’s eyes grew wider. “Wait, hold on,” she said. She tilted her glass back further this time, taking a deeper draw. “So are you saying you’re only talking to me ‘cuz you want to fuck me?”

“No, I wouldn’t say—“

She cut in, not wanting to let him finish, not caring what he had to say. “Ah, I get it. So is it just that you don’t care who you talk to? Or am I just less hateable than everyone else?” As she said this, she swept her hand in a measured arc, indicating the general area their cohort occupied, leaving a trail of wispy smoke.

Realizing, perhaps too late, that he had long since stepped over some obvious boundary, the boy took a moment to consider his words more carefully. Before he could respond, however, the girl pressed him again. “I mean, why would you want to talk to someone like me? Well?”

“Hey, relax. I didn’t mean anything personal by it.”

“Nothing personal?”

“It was just an observation.”

“Well thanks, Dr. Insight, for that stunning revelation,” she spat, her words sheathed in sarcasm. As she wheeled away from him and strode off, he heard her parting words: “It was wonderful catching up with you.”

And with that, the girl was gone, disappearing into an ever-shifting smoky crowd, into the din of slurred speech and drunken shouts. Into the merriment and pleasantries.

The boy considered his cigarette, and decided it still had some life to it. He would light another when it went out. He frowned, briefly, before returning to his scanning of the revelers, watching as they made small talk and congratulated each other on their impressive jobs and keen fashion sense. From the sidelines, as always, he looked on with something caught between envy and scorn. Here he saw a boy he’d studied with talk to one he’d rowed crew with, and here a girl he once admired from afar laughed at something someone who’s face he couldn’t quite place had said.

He noted to himself that the night was still young, and his charges would want to get their money’s worth while they could. He knew they would be drunk soon, if they weren’t already. They wouldn’t provide much in the way of conversation, so he took it upon himself to find amusement.

He cast his hunting gaze over the sea of faces, catching the eyes of a pretty blonde girl (her name had been a K-something, he thought) and beckoned to her. She mouthed something to the trio she had been standing with, and began to make her way through the crowd, over to his quiet corner. He wondered if this one might be as prickly—and unpredictable—as the last.