Chapter Two
"Should I wear the sparkly silver heels, or the pink pumps?" Stephanie asks holding the two options up in front of her and assessing which one looks better with the black dress she's wearing.
"I don't care. Just pick one," Savannah, Stephanie's cousin, groans sprawled out across Stephanie's bed dressed in skinny jeans and her own pair of stilettos.
It took classes starting for Stephanie to finally make her bed. Her hot pink comforter matches mine because there's a big light blue pinwheel of flowers decorating the center. The rest of her stuff also happens to carry a pink and blue theme, like her hair. From the corkboards she hung over her bed to the light up mirror she hung over her desk and the makeup she currently has strewn over the wood. We both bonded over the fact that once we put everything together our stuff matched more than it clashed.
A beep has me glancing over at the girl perched on the edge of my bed, tapping away on her self phone. Savannah and Megan came into the picture only a few hours after I met Stephanie. Savannah stands and she's already tall to begin with, but her heels emphasize her stature. Her long brown hair is straightened opposed to the usually ponytail she usually has it sleeked back in.
Megan reapplies her lip gloss before standing up. She's Savannah's roommate and the smallest out of the four of us. Her hair is a few shades lighter than Stephanie's and Savannah's, but still not even close to my blonde. Her hair is also the shortest. It hits just below her chin, and I've been meaning to ask which curling iron she uses to get such good beach waves in it.
Two weeks of classes and running around on campus. The girls are all ready for a party, while I'm just ready for the weekend.
"Eh, I'm wearing the pink." Stephanie tosses the silver heels aside.
"Great," Savannah breathes and straightens her floral tank top before heading towards the door.
I look down at my phone seeing it's already a quarter to ten. I scratch the back of my head before dropping my hand back down to my side. "Um, I don't think I'm going to come with you guys tonight."
I wasn't prepared for all their heads whip in my direction that fast. I also wasn't expecting all their wide eyes.
"What do you mean you're not coming? It's our first frat party!" Stephanie whines.
"I don't know. I just don't think I'm . . . ready," I fidget with the hem of my oversized pajama shirt because yes, I'm already settled with the idea of staying in. I'm already settled in my pajamas. "I'll just go with you guys to the next one."
"Oh no, no, no," Stephanie wobbles her way over to me and plops down on the bed in front of me. Her bright pink lower lip juts out in a pout. "You have to come."
"I don't know." I trace my finger over a flower on my comforter. "It's not really my thing."
"No one's going to shove alcohol down your throat," Savannah says, and that pricks my skin a little, but Stephanie quickly shoos her away.
"Don't listen to her." Stephanie says before laying her body on top of my legs and leaning her head in her hands. "What I will say, is that you never know if it's 'your thing' unless you go."
My lips mash together because she has a point, but I'm not ready to tell her that yet. Even though she begins pulling puppy dog eyes and deepens her pout.
"If you don't like it, we'll never ask you to go again." Now she's rocking a baby voice. She says she's majoring in business, but I think she should be doing theater, or maybe even law school with all her constant bartering. "Please?"
My eyes flicker up to Megan's and then over to Savannah's only to see that they're both wearing the same pouty expression. A few more bats of Stephanie's lashes before I find myself caving.
"Fine." I barely get the word out before my blankets are ripped off me.
"I know exactly wha— "
I hold my finger up before Stephanie can finish. "I'm not wearing a dress."
"Oh come'on!"
"At least let us doll you up," Megan offers and Stephanie nods her head vigorously in agreement. I look over at Savannah and she juts out her lower lip, leaving me face to face with all their pouts again.
"Okay, fine," I wave my hand.
They all squeal again before closing in on me, murmuring ideas on what I should wear, and I wonder if this is how bombarded celebrities feel.
****
A black lace tank top, lip gloss, and almost a whole bottle of perfume later, we find ourselves walking up to the entrance of the Zeta Theta Beta fraternity with two guys standing by the door waving people in. When their eyes begin to scan over us, I have the urge to turn back around and run back to the safety of my dorm room, but Stephanie squeezes my arm. The gesture is reassuring, but also prevents me from escaping. Once we get the head nod of approval, the guy closest to the door opens it for us.
"Have a wonderful time, ladies," he drawls sending a wink in Stephanie's direction, and she gives him a small smile back.
Walking into the foyer, I'm immediately hit with the sour smell of alcohol, and a thumping bass cadence that somehow matches the staccato rhythm of my heart. There's a large staircase on the right that curves up to the second floor, and on the left people are scattered around mingling with a crowd of dancing people towards the center.
"Eek!" Stephanie squeals and tugs at my arm in that excited way of hers that I'm still getting accustomed to. "Isn't this great?" Great? I'm thinking of a different adjective.
"Come' on, let's go." Stephanie follows Savannah and Megan into the crowd leaving me to follow.
We squeeze pass many girls and I find myself internally complimenting their clothes, figuring I might as well focus on that instead of the nerves fluttering around the pit of my stomach. Even though a majority of the girls are towering over me in some form of heel, I still find myself silently thanking the fact that I'm wearing jeans and black converse despite Stephanie's protests. Speaking of Stephanie, where did she go?
Oh no, oh no, oh no.
I stand on my tiptoes scanning over all the different heads searching for one thing and one thing only. Pink and blue highlights, Pink and blue highlights.
"Peas!" someone shouts over the music. "Peas!"
I can't decide if the vegetable has recently become a new trend, or if I'm imagining things, but I jump when a hand finally clasps itself on my shoulder. I hope it's Stephanie, but end up doing a double take when I find it's the tall, lanky brown haired guy from the grocery store.
"Hey." He smiles. "Do you remember me?" He pokes his band t-shirt covered chest before extending his hand out. "I'm Zack by the way." I give his hand a soft shake before retracting back. "Wow," he breathes.
"What?" I ask against my better judgement.
Zack shrugs as he takes a sip out of the red solo cup in his hand. "Just never thought I'd see you again."
"Likewise," I murmur as my eyes roam around once more. I get bumped in the back and the shoulder a few times, but still don't get any sign of wear my roommate trotted off to in her pink stilettos.
"You know what?" Zack gulps down another sip of his drink. "Wait here, I'm going to go get Trent."
My eyes widen and I shake my head. "No, you don't— "
"Be right back."
I almost want to say déjà vu when he gives me another slow, showman wink, but I'm suddenly feel like I'm in the spotlight. The lights are dim, but still too bright. The beat is still pulsing, but I can no longer hear the music, I can no longer identify the words. I'm shoved again, but it only feels like another nudge into the microphone. I wipe my sweaty hands on my jeans before running them through my hair. I even clear my throat as if I am on a stage, but another nudge to my shoulder finally yanks the spotlight away.
I start shoving my way back towards what I hope is the door. I dodge dancing, canoodling, and snickering bodies as I go. The thought of the brisk night air and the security of my dorm room keeps me going. I even conjure up all the different text messages I could send to Stephanie later to let her know I left.
If only I wasn't accidentally hip checked by two guys who just completed an actually hip check. Then I never would've been sent stumbling into a black V-neck t-shirt.
"Running already?"
I look up into bright green eyes that my mind immediately recognizes as Trent's.
"Normally we're suppose to have a conversation first before the girl ends up running for the hills."
I highly doubt that. Actually I think girls probably run to him rather than away from him.
"I wasn't running." Is my immediate response, and he folds his arms across his chest. "I'm not lying," I decide to defend my self even further even though I totally was making a run for it. Just not from him necessarily, but rather the entire situation.
The way his lips continue to quiver tells me he's not buying any of it. Now I'm out of breath for two reasons.
"I'm serious!" I attempt to shout over some other guy's wail before I take a step closer to continue to compete with the music. "I just, this just . . . Isn't really my scene."
"I see," he says, but my gaze is glued to his arms. The muscles he has look double the size because he has them crossed. I can't decide if it's the lighting, his black t-shirt, or his tan that's making his skin appear extra orange, but he finally drops his arms before I can decide. A new song begins pounding it's way into my skull, but Trent leans his head towards my ear so I can hear him over the beat. "Follow me." He brushes past me heading in the direction I came from.
My logic and sanity hang in the balance. I've reached a crossroads. I look back down at my shoes and my worn laces remind me that I can still run my way out of the follow option. I can't, however, run back to this moment if I leave the frat house now. So, I turn around and follow the bright green eyed boy. All the while praying I'm not making a mistake.
My footsteps trace the wall as we tread around the edge of the bundle of sweaty bodies. We make a right down a hallway that still has the same wooden floor, but a bright light spilling out of an entryway. We take a left into that light to find a half circle of a kitchen empty of party goers.
"Do you want something to drink?" Trent asks as he pops open the bottom section of the white metal fridge on the right.
"Is there any water?" I ask even though I'm not expecting there to be. However, I'm pleasantly surprised when Trent rummages through the fridge and comes out with a water bottle and a beer for himself. "Thank you," I say, taking the bottle and opening it while he searches for a bottle opener.
He easily spots the silver tool because it stands out against the white laminate counter tops. The cabinets below the sink are also white, but the pattern is disrupting above the sink. All the cabinets hanging out of the walls are a deep blue.
"So." Trent pops open his beer. "Are you going to tell me your name, or should I just call you peas? Or vanilla cake? Whichever you prefer, of course." He shrugs, grins, and sips all in one fluid motion. It's both seamless and annoying.
"Lacie," I finally say as I lean my hip against the dishwasher imbedded under the countertop beside me.
"Trent," he says and extends his arms out in a slight bow to reaffirm that the information is repeated. I can't decide whether to roll my eyes, or smile, so I find myself doing half of both.
I was initially thankful that the sounds of the party are absorbed by the kitchen walls, but now I'm more worried about the silence. My eyes dart around and I spot an empty chip bag and a roll of paper towels before they land on Trent's again. I admit that I'm still a little jealous that his eyes are a whole shade brighter than mine and his eye lashes are pretty long, too. His skin is no longer orange which confirms any alien doubts I may have momentarily had, but I was right about the tan. Before I can get too carried away with thoughts of beaches, swim trunks, and shirtless ways that tan was possibly obtained, I turn my attention back over to the fridge.
"Are you a frat boy, Trent?"
His stance shifts as he chuckles. "No."
"Really?" I turn back to him no doubt that the surprise is written all over my face.
"Yeah." He nods. "Zack and I share a dorm, but most of our friends live in the frat house, so we spend most of our time here."
I tilt my head to side. "So you're a . . ."
"Sophomore." He finishes the sentence with a grin. "And you're a . . ."
"Freshman." I hug the water bottle to my chest.
"Well, how do you like Pennbrook?"
I shrug. "It's all right."
"Well . . ." He takes another swig of his beer. "What places have you been to?"
I bite my lip in attempt to contain my smile, but it's too late. It tips up the corners of my lips. "I'll have to get to you on that because I haven't ventured off campus yet."
He laughs and places his beer back down. "Well, you should know that the student lounge makes very bad hot chocolate."
My scrunches up as I laugh. "I haven't tried it yet."
"Don't," Trent shakes his head and he's folding his arms again. His backs leaning against the counter, and the black t-shirt and jeans are giving me both 1950s biker vibes, yet also 1980s playboy rocker, and I can't decide which is more appealing. "But they make really good hot chocolate."
"Who?" I ask and immediately regret it. As if my gawking wasn't bad enough, I opened my mouth and revealed I wasn't paying attention.
Trent doesn't seem to mind, though, as he flicks his thumb over his shoulder. "This café around the corner."
"Oh." I nod before using a drink of water as an excuse not to talk.
"Trent!"
I gulp so fast it hurts as a handful of guys flood into the room.
"There you are man. Where have you been? Come' on! The pool tables awaiting!"
"Yeah, man, you're the pool king!"
"Yes! Dominate!"
They all start to swarm around him, and I slowly start to back out of the room. Trent looks around, leaning around his friends, and when he meets my gaze I give him a little wave with the water bottle before slipping out of the room.
I pull my phone out of my back pocket as the music fills my ears again. It's almost midnight and I press on Stephanie's contact because I'm ready to call it a night.
The water bottle is ripped from my hands, but I'm relieved to find it's Stephanie and not some random party goer.She tilts her head back and chugs the rest of it before twisting the cap back on and handing it back to me.
"Uh, thanks," I say before tucking it under my arm."You ready to go?"
"Yup." She nods a few times and sways forward a little with the movement.
"Are you okay?" I ask and she continues to nod, but a giggle has me raising my brow.
"Maybe I'm a little tipsy," she giggles again, and I shake my head, grabbing her arm.
"Come' on." I pull Stephanie behind me and decide to follow the wall again in hopes of finding the door.
We step out into the night and leave the alcohol and noise behind. Stephanie continues to giggle and stumble over her heels as we start walking back towards the dorms.
I wrap her arm around my shoulder. "Do you think Savannah and Megan are okay?"
"Yeah, they were playing truth or dare. Whoops!" She stumbles again and I shake my head. "Lacie, you have pretty hair." She mumbles, picking up a strand of my hair and I let out a laugh.
"But yours has pink in it."
"Oh yeah," she chirps as if she forgot.
The crunch of someone or something stepping on a stick makes me freeze mid stride. I slowly pull my phone out of my pocket, but internally curse myself for not bringing my whistle. I guess Stephanie never would've let me bring it anyway if she saw the purple thing wrapped around my wrist because it's blatant guy repellant.
Stephanie reaches down and pulls off her heel."Don't worry, if anyone tries to kill us I'll stab them with my shoe."
I let out a laugh. "That's actually a good idea."
"See I told you to wear heels. They come in handy." She waves the shoe around, and I shake my head.
We may have ran a bit, or in Stephanie's case hobbled, but we finally reach our dorm building. I use my ID to open the door before helping Stephanie over to her bed.
"One day, one day, Lacie O'Conner, I'm going to get you drunk." She points her pink heel at me. "I'm serious," she says when I only continue to laugh. Luckily, she passes out two minutes later clutching the five inch pink heel to her chest.
I change back into the pajamas I left behind and turn off the light before flopping down on my own bed.
First frat party . . . Check.