"Ren Grace, you are absolutely insane!" Amara laughed as I grinned at her, whipping a flask out of my purse and taking a long swig before shrugging on my jacket and heading towards the door.
"The world would be boring without me," I assented, scooping Jas up out of her chair and hauling her towards the exit. Now, was the time for me to legally get fucked up and I was so beyond ready.
"Cheers to Twenty-One!" I whooped, downing more of the burning fireball in my flask. I couldn't count how many liquors I'd already mixed tonight but I didn't care. I was twenty-one.
Darien Grace
I could hear the heavy thud of the bass before we even stepped foot into the Delta Chi house. People were spilling out onto the lawn, yelling and laughing; most were completely cross-faded. Despite the heady chill of October in New York, no one seemed to care. Everywhere I looked, there was more skin than clothing and I couldn't help but wonder if Greg had put a notice about it on the flyers I'd seen all over campus for the past week. Delta Chi had to be the largest Frat on campus and accordingly occupied the largest house. He'd said something about it being a haunted house this year; there was a new theme for every level and it had sounded pretty cool so I'd okayed it.
The poor pledges were all in matching costume once again— sexy nurses— scarlet fishnets, heels and all. Those poor boys would never catch a break as long of Jef was VP. Greg wasn't big on the whole 'hazing' thing, but Jef and the rest of the guys were. Greg felt just as bad for them as I did, but he had been really upfront with the pledges about everything in the beginning. Even though hazing was more or less illegal, it still happened; it was a collegiate tradition. He told them all about the intensity of everything before hand and yet they'd still wanted to pledge. I couldn't decide if it was sickening or hysterical.
"Evening ladies," one of the more confident of the batch crooned, bowing low towards us. A group of girls that had been standing behind him shrieked as soon as he bent over. I knew then and there that I had no desire to find out what was beneath that skimpy white cotton dress.
"My god you make me envy the health care field," I gasped, fanning my nonexistent flush. He grinned back, completely unfazed. Well, at least he was confident enough to own his initiation. I liked him immediately.
"My name is Nurse Alston. I'll be administing your physical examination this evening." He was smooth, I'd give him that.
"Pass. I think I'll take my chances, darling," I grinned and he looked to Amara and Jas. Jas's expression mirrored my own and Amara was almost as red as his tights. Oh, was she in for a fun night.
"Can I at least get a name then?"
"If you don't know my name by now, then you're at the wrong school," I laughed, calling back to him over my shoulder. It seemed everyone at NYU knew of me, or had at least heard the rumors about the purple haired bitch with a knack for starting shit. Ren Grace was someone of legend— especially at the Delta Chi house.
The second we stepped foot in the house, I was scooped up into a bone crushing hug. "For fuck's sake Ren! If you'd kept us waiting any longer, we'd have run out of booze!" Greg laughed, his giddy face just inches from my own. His eyes were glazed and bloodshot. There was a trashcan set up in every room with filtration holes punched into the lid to let the smoke out. Everyone was tripping their balls off and I wanted nothing more than to join them.
Sucking in several deep lungfuls, I laughed, "Seb was being a bitch, but I'm here now!"
"Yup and that means.... three shots and a funnel for the Birthday Girl!" He tucked me under his arm and hauled me into the kitchen. He grabbed three different colored shots and set them out in front of me before reaching into the trough of ice and beer to get the funnel ready. I'd taken two of the shots before he turned back to me, apprehension dawning on his baby face.
"Oh, Dari! There's some guy looking for you— said it's important?" Greg shrugged, reaching behind him to grab the funnel, simultaneously popping the tab on the Bud Light in his hand.
"Then let him keep looking. It's my party; I want to get drunk and enjoy it... like now," I laughed, tossing back the last shot before grabbing the end of the tube to the funnel from him.
"That's my girl. Now, deep breath, and chug!" He upended the beer at the mouth of the funnel and foaming, bubbling alcohol raced down the tube and into my mouth. I didn't take a breath until it was all gone and between the smoke, alcohol, and the lack of oxygen, I was buzzing once I finished. I couldn't decide what was worse, funneling or shotgunning— probably shotgunning. Greg knew that I was against the entire frat practice of punching a hole in the bottom of an open can. The goal was to drink the entire damn thing without stopping or spilling a drop. That shit was hard. With the funnel you could turn the end of the hose right side up and it stopped, but with a shotgun... yeah, you were fucked.
"How have you been lately?" Greg asked, slinging an arm around me after I was finished. He handed me a cup of tonight's punch; it was black with a layer of fog settled on the top from the dry ice they'd dropped into the barrel. Curiosity kicked in and I sniffed at it— it was sweet, fruity, and hopefully chalked full of alcohol.
"Fine," I laughed, "Hey, what is this stuff?"
"Uh, Everclear, Pineapple Absolute, Strawberry Bacardi, bunch of fruity shit, and special food coloring packets from the Halloween store; we're telling everyone it's 'poison' though."
"Clever," I muttered, carefully raising the cup to my lips. Skeptical, I took a tiny sip, tasting Greg's latest concoction, "Holy fucking shit, this is amazing!"
"Ya think?"
"I'd bottle it and sell it."
"A side business for a broke college student... I can see it."
"You're far from broke Davies," I laughed, thinking back to the one and only time I'd met Greg's family. They were some tight assed blue-blood bitches, let me tell you. His mother took one look at me in her frilly little $3000 dollar sundress and I swore she had a coronary. He'd warned me beforehand about how they would react, so I'd kind of upped my game a little. The only color in my entire appearance had been my hair and I wasn't entirely sure they'd appreciated my fashion decisions. I swore, his entire family thought that he'd brought home the bride of Satan. It was a great afternoon.
"I'd have to actually cash the checks they send me," he laughed, grinning triumphantly at me. His family had threatened to cut him off if he didn't go Ivy League— he'd been accepted of course, the kid was fucking brilliant. He just didn't have any interest in that kind of life. He told them to go fuck themselves and accepted NYU's scholarship offer. He was kicking ass in the Medical field— he'd made the Dean's List every semester he'd been here. After a while, his mother started to 'miss her baby boy' and so the Davies clan had opted to reinstitute him as a member of the family in the form of fiscal bribery. He wasn't having any of it and I was damn proud of him.
"That's my boy." I patted him firmly on the back before he took my hand and led me out of the kitchen. Jas was completely in her element. Some how she'd managed to climb her way onto the dining room table and was dancing to whatever techno shit DC had blasting throughout this floor of the house. She'd amassed a decent sized crowd of admirers in the Jasmine McKenney way and they were eating out of the palm of her hand. Amara, on the other hand, was backed into a corner and looking extremely uncomfortable— Jeff had found her.
"Fuck! Davies, perv-alert!" I crowed, tugging him towards the scene. I could tell that Amara was trying to be nice, but by the set of her jaw and her uneasy stance it was obvious she was looking for an escape.
"Amara! There you are; I've been looking all over for you! Excuse us Jeffery," I quipped, smiling easily at him while simultaneously dragging her behind the fortified tower that was Gregory Davies. Greg kept glancing over his shoulder at us— his eyes lingering on my exotic friend longer than necessary. I couldn't stop the small grin that threatened to grow and split my face.
"Be a dear, and keep him on a leash," I laughed, patting Greg on the shoulder before leading Amara away and back into the party.
Before I could make my escape though, Greg pulled me back, "Only if you keep her on a leash," he muttered, staring wistfully at my co-worker.
I cocked an eyebrow up at him, "Better make your move soon then, Davies. Jeff isn't the only one with eyes." He glared at me, but nodded sharply. Good boy. I had the feeling that if he acted quickly, he would be in for a good night; if not, well he was on his own. I knew for a fact that Amara would be fine no matter what. She was hot and she had enough of a brain to think for herself.
"Jeff's a perv, avoid him," I laughed, leading her towards the back of the house. One of the pledges passed by, a tray of 'Poison' filled cups in hand. I grabbed one and handed it to her. "It's good; I promise," I said after she stared skeptically at the bubbling black liquid.
"I kind of got that impression," she giggled, taking a careful sip of her drink. Once she decided that it actually wasn't that bad, she took a braver drink and I saw some color start to return to her cheeks. "Who was that guy you brought over?" She asked, craning her neck slightly to see back across the over crowded living room.
"Ah, Greg. Keep an eye on that one. He's hot as fuck an can give a killer fucking orgasm." I swore she nearly spat her drink.
"Are you two...?"
"Old news, and good friends," I laughed, pulling my hair up off of my neck. Jesus it was hot as fuck in this house. "No, but seriously. That man knows his way around a vagina."
"I'll keep that in mind," she giggled, flushing further before downing a rather large portion of her drink. She was used to my blunt nature by now, but I was sure it still caught her off guard at times. "Anyway, thanks for the save, Ren. This is your party, though, and you're not allowed to babysit me. I've navigated a frat house or two before."
"You know what? That is an excellent fucking point. Give me alcohol or give me death!" I cheered, sucking down what was left in my cup. Abandoning the empty glass, I took her arm and led her back into the kitchen. While there were 'Sexy Nurses' winding their way through the mass of people with trays, I knew for a fact that there was a fast and easy supply of alcohol in the kitchen. All around us people were either talking or getting it on. I couldn't help but watch with a pang of jealousy as a blonde who'd clearly had about three too many led one of the DC guys upstairs. Stella was still pouting about our missed opportunity earlier and I could see where she was coming from. Being celibate sucked, even if it was only for a week.
Frowning, I led us into the kitchen. There was a raging game of Thumper going on at the table— the banging of their hands against the wooden top almost drowning out the thumping beat being pushed throughout the entire house. A few of the DC's who were, amazingly enough, still functioning, sent me sloppy grins of recognition.
"Evening boys," I laughed, pulling out seven shot glasses and grabbing the bottle of cheap tequila on the counter, "Care to play a little game?" I smirked deviously at them, leaning purposefully low over the counter to pour the shots. They were practically tripping over themselves to get to the bar and Amara just grinned at me.
"Anyone have a quarter?" I asked, looking at each of the DC guys in turn. They all began to fish furiously in whatever nooks and crannies were in their ridiculous costumes for a coin. Finally Mr. Sexy Fireman produced a wallet with a few spare coins in the folds.
"Name of the game is 'Flip, Sip, or Strip'. Flip the coin, guess what side it will land on. If you're right, next person goes; if you're wrong, you can either take a shot or lose a piece of clothing." Their faces all lit up at the word strip as their glazed over eyes raked over Amara and I. The first time I'd met Davies had been at a DC party and I'd just started the game with a group of some of the older fraternity brothers. He'd joined up and forced his way into the spot right next to me. Needless to say, I got very drunk and I was in only my lacy black cheeksters by the time the game was called. The other guys had gotten bored and quit; aparently I'd been too wrapped up in making out with Greg to keep playing the game. I guess they decided that they could see a pair boobs somewhere else without having watching us get it on in the living room.
"Amara, would you care to do the honors?" I asked, holding the quarter out to her.
She smirked at me before flipping it up into the air, "Heads."
Tails.
Teasingly, she ran the back of her hand down the front of her shirt and down in between her breasts, before reaching for her glass and downing the shot. There was a collective groan from all of the guys around the table. They were banking on a show. Four rounds later, Amara had shed her shirt, I was buzzed out of my mind, and one of the guys dressed up as Magic Mike had lost his bow-tie. I'd wanted to call bullshit, but seeing as it was either that or his silk speedo, I let him have it.
"Come on, Grace! Are you going to puss out on us and do shots all night or are you going to man up?" One of the guys who was dressed up as Tarzan groaned.
"Well, considering that one: I'm a woman, and two: this is my party, I think I'll continue to do whatever the fuck I want."
"God, you were more fun when you were banging Davies," he complained, waving my comment away.
"You're just being a bitch because I haven't fucked you."
"Want to make me stop?"
"When you can handle your liquor and can produce a clean bill of health, we can talk," I laughed, pouring the next round, "but for now, it's my turn." I'd just sent the coin flying into the air when movement across the room caught my eye. Lounging against the back wall was a pair of achingly familiar hazel eyes. His stance gave off the illusion of ease and comfort with the current situation, but I could see the stress in his coiled upper body and the animosity roiling within his gaze.
Rolling my eyes, I didn't even bother to call the side before I tossed back three of the new shots. I earned a groan of disapproval from my little game gang, but I didn't care; I just waved them away. If I was going to have to deal with an inexplicably distempered Harry, then I needed to be completely and utterly gone.
"I'm out boys," I sighed dramatically before turning to Amara, "Keep 'em company for me; I have to deal with something." I was sure that in any other sober situation she would have heard the irritated anxiety behind me voice and would have asked me what was wrong. She was drunk, though, and was enjoying the hell out of my party like I should have been. She nodded distractedly, pouring a new round and picking up the coin from where I'd let it fall. I didn't wait to see the outcome of her turn before heading off to Harry's private little corner. I swore it was like he did something to ward everyone away; no one would come within five feet of him. He had this little bubble of space around him and, immediately, I knew that he was stone cold sober.
"You know, Harry-boy, this is a party you're supposed to be having fun," I purred, throwing my arms behind his head, grinning at him before ducking my head to lick a hot stripe up his neck. God, he tasted amazing— better than I remembered. Expensive body wash, mint, and Harry. Stella surged back to life, standing ready and at attention. "I do love the costume though."
"I'm not wearing a costume, Darien," he growled, holding me away at arm's length. My alcohol addled brain didn't mind; it gave me more time to look at him. I couldn't help the slow, lazy smirk that spread across my face as I took him in. I wanted to peel him out of those ridiculously attractive tight, distressed black jeans and his battered Rush concert tee then and there. He was instant Stella-soaking material— as always.
"Yes, you are. You're pretending to be a real college student. Look, you're even pretending to enjoy a party!" Sloppily, I motioned outwards to the kitchen and the rest of the house beyond.
"I came here to make sure you were still alive. I went by the restaurant and the McKenney's to find you; Caleb took mercy and told me that you'd be here." He was getting more irritable by the minute and his bad mood was beginning to piss me off. It was my birthday, goddammit, and I was going to have some fucking fun.
"Of course I'm alive, you hypochondriac. Jesus."
"Then why didn't you answer any of my calls or return one of my texts?"
"Because I was avoiding you," I sang out, thumping him on the nose, my tone dripping sarcasm.
"I got that much. What I didn't understand was why?"
"Because you-u-u crossed a line." I was beginning to sway in my heels and he reached out a hand to steady me, grabbing hold of my hip. My skin heated through the flesh on fabric contact and I knew that it would only be a matter of time before I would be wasting away if I didn't get more than just that.
"Jesus, you're drunk," he groaned, taking hold of my wrist and preparing to drag me out of yet another one of Greg's parties.
"I'm actually not that drunk. I'm trying to keep you from killing my buzz. It's my twenty-first birthday, you fucker, let me enjoy it."
"You can barely stand," he reprimanded.
"That's because these shoes are torture devices," I grumbled, tugging him towards one of the non-crowded counters and boosted myself up onto it. I held my foot out to him, my intentions clear.
"Take it off, lover boy." I waggled my foot insistently in the air in front of him. Sighing, he humored me, slowly extricating me from the gold devices of pain and brutality. The sigh of relief that slipped out the second both feet were free was unintentional. I'd been strapped into those things since six this evening and now it was almost one.
"Now," I huffed, jumping off the counter and scooping my shoes up in one hand, "We are going to stay and you, darling, are going to learn how to enjoy yourself."
"Darien, no. If the University found out I was drinking with students and condoning underage—."
"Shut the fuck up, okay. We're already screwed if the University finds out about anything, but guess what? Whatever happens tonight, stays a secret. These assholes are too damn drunk to remember their own names, let alone some random fucking student-teacher drinking with them at a party. Now, tonight is for me and I say we are getting fucked up and then we are going to bang. Understood?"
"Even drunk you're still stubborn and domineering," he grumbled.
"I thought we already established that those are irreversible and unshakable personality traits?" I laughed, enjoying the look of faux annoyance on his face. I was winning— obviously. "Now, kiss me and then drink this until I say stop," I grinned, holding out a pitcher of 'Poison'.
"Darien, I really don't think—."
"Nuh-uh. No thinking; no worrying. Just drinking and then sex— actually, I wouldn't be opposed to a change in the order as long as both happen. This is my night and my party. My rules." He gave me his most exasperated look, but took the pitcher from me, eyeing it quizzically. "Good boy, now kiss and drink!" I ordered, pulling him down to me by his chin. I sealed my lips to his and let the fire overtake me. Deep down in the tiniest little part of me, I felt a pang of guilt for what could have been an alternate ending to the night. However, it was ridiculously outgunned by the level of alcohol rushing through my bloodstream and the hormones that had flared up at the contact between us. Absently, I was aware of the sound of his setting the pitcher back down on the counter before one of his hands wound tightly around my waist. He held me flush against him, hit other hand at the nape of my neck.
Sighing at the contact, he took an opening to invade my mouth with his tongue. Completely oblivious to the party raging around us, we devoured each other. His hand slid up my back, pulling the fabric of my skirt with it, but I didn't care. He was here; he was touching me, and we were drowning in 'Otherwise'. Finally, after what could have been an eternity, I broke away, pecking him softly on the lips.
"Seems like you missed me," I purred, smirking at him.
"I could say the same for you." He cocked an eyebrow up at me in challenge; the dimples in his cheek and his chin that made Stella pant, popped blessedly into existence.
"I don't know; I'm pretty good at the whole independency thing." I shrugged, winding my arms around his neck.
"Well, I supposed you wouldn't mind if I left, then?" He reached behind his neck and pulled my arms up over his head, letting them fall in the space between us. I pouted up at him.
"I most definitely would. This is my party and you're not allowed to ruin it."
"How many time are you going to tell me 'tonight is all about you'?" He laughed, reaching behind me to retrieve the pitcher and pour himself a cupful.
"As many as it takes to sink in, asshole."
"Ah, might want to make a recording of it then," he teased before tipping the cup up and downing half of his glass. "Happy?"
"Eh, I'd call it barely sated."
"Well then by all means— lead on." He grinned down at me and for the first time since I met him, he seemed to be just like any other guy I'd dated— fun, energetic, and eager to please. The only staggering difference between him and the others was the fact that I was willing to do the same for him. I wanted to make sure he was happy.