She looked down to the bottle in her hand before she spoke. “I am not drunk, thank you.” Her growing anger was present in her voice. “In fact, I haven’t taken one sip of this awful stuff. I’m just holding it so people don’t harass me to drink more. And I don’t appreciate you talking to me like I’m some drunken slob going through your house about to break things.”
Why was she being so defensive? Darien had every right to be mad at her for wandering around in his personal space.
The look on his face didn’t soften, though he appeared a bit surprised by her aggressiveness. “It’s only natural I assume such things when a young co-ed wanders around where she’s not wanted—with a beer in her hand and a glazed look in her eyes, no less.” He gestured to the room around them. “What, have you never seen so many books in one place before? Don’t they have bookstores at the mall?”
His sarcasm was not amusing.
“Excuse me?” Now quite incredulous, Diana was quickly reaching her anger threshold. “Andrew told me I could use his bathroom. I had no idea which room was his, so I just walked into the room with the open door—sue me.”
“Does this look like either a bedroom, or a bathroom, to you? I doubt even you are that slow minded, so what made you believe your presence would be welcome?” Darien obviously didn’t like that Diana hadn’t cowered at his accusations and slunk back downstairs. “I could see it if there was something shiny and pretty in here for you to look at, but there isn’t. Go try Miriam’s room if you’d like; it’s down the hall on the left.” He gestured for Diana to be on her way.
How this guy treated women was simply astonishing. Do people really act this way? She was growing more furious with every passing moment and it felt as if a fire were burning in her chest. This was not like her at all—she hated confrontations. For some reason, Diana just could not let him get away with treating her like she was some stupid drunk bimbo.
“What gives you the right to talk to me like that? Do you treat all women like this or just the ones that aren’t as pretty and sophisticated as she is?” Diana gestured to the bust of the woman behind her.
Darien narrowed his eyes at her, as if his anger had compelled him to study Diana like an oddity. “No, I don’t treat all women the same. I have known many females who are well above me and deserve my utmost respect.” He nodded to the bust. “My sister is definitely a fine example—she has accomplished much for someone as young as she is; I greatly admire her. You, on the other hand, are just a silly little girl who wanders around where she’s not wanted and is amazed by pretty things. There is not a plane of existence in which you would ever be wanted in this study. Now, will you please leave?” He was beginning to lose his composure.
She’d definitely had enough of such pompous arrogance and began walking towards the door. Something caught her eye, however, and she stopped abruptly. She turned around to glare at him.
“I might be wrong, but in this case here you have a cup that is clearly a Minoan Labrys Chalice mixed in with a bunch of Egyptian pottery—it’s the crescent moon shapes and flowery spirals that give it away.”
Astonishment filled Darien’s face as his eyes quickly darted to the case of ancient ceramics and then returned to meet Diana’s smug grin. “But what do I know? My area of expertise is pretty shiny things.”
“How—” Darien began, but Diana didn’t give him the courtesy of a retort before she turned and walked out of the room. When she reached the top of the stairs she heard a door slam behind her. Diana smiled with a sense of victory and silently thanked her Grandma Lily for giving her one of Foxwell Flinders’ books on the ancient Minoans the Christmas before she passed away.
On the ground floor once again, Diana scanned the area for Lani. She’d had about enough of the Shepherds’ house and the party within it. She spotted her roommate on the makeshift dance floor, grooving to the music with Andrew. She was resigned not to ruin Lani’s evening, so she decided to leave on her own.
Passing through the front yard, fuming with anger, she heard a guy’s voice call to her from behind—it was Eric.
“Diana, hey—” he began but stopped when he saw the look of anger on her face. “What happened? You look like someone just punched your dog.”
Oh, it was worse than that. “That guy—ugh! I have never been treated—he is such an ass-hat! People act like that? Did that really happen?” When she reached her anger threshold, Diana’s sentences usually became short, vulgar, and incoherent. Her dad called her the Tasmanian Devil. Luckily, she had kept it mostly clean. She shouldn’t embarrass herself in front of a guy she had only known for two days.
She stopped and took a deep breath. Anger combined with social awkwardness was never fun.
Eric smirked and snatched the bottle from her hand by the neck. “Have a little too much?” He added an arched brow to his smirk once he realized the bottle was full. “Apparently not enough. How about we go inside and I procure you a drink you might actually enjoy. Then you can tell me all about it.”
Though Diana wanted nothing more than to storm off in anger back to her dorm room, she decided to take Eric up on his offer. “I’d like that.”
After a warm smile and a quick nod, Eric guided Diana by the hand through the large mass of humanity writhing in the house’s living room and into the kitchen area, where a few kegs had been set up. Quite the beer line had formed of people waiting to fill their plastic cups.
“Over here,” Eric said once he found a kitchen island displaying a wide array of liquors and spirits, along with fruit juices and other items for making mixed drinks. “What do you like? I know how to make pretty much anything—my mom was a bit of a drunk.”
“Um…” Diana didn’t really know any mixed drinks—her parents only drank beer—so she went with the first one to pop into her head. “Sex on the beach?”
Eric smirked. “I figured you’d like something like that.”
Diana didn’t quite know what to make of his comment.
Eric went to work on the drink and it looked easy enough. He put ice in a shaker, poured in some vodka, pineapple and cranberry juices, and then gave it a nice shake. When finished, he poured the contents into a tall glass that he grabbed from under the counter; he looked like a pro.
Eric handed Diana the drink and she took a sip; it was quite delicious.
“Wow, that’s really tasty, Eric.” The strong alcohol was masked by the delicious fruit juice. She could see how these types of drinks could get a person into trouble.
“Thanks kiddo,” Eric replied, sounding like a seasoned bartender from a movie. He snatched an unopened bottle from the counter and inspected the label. “I think I’ll be cracking open this eighteen-year Highland Park.”
After filling a short whiskey glass about halfway, he brought it to his nose, closed his eyes, and then inhaled the aroma of the spirit before taking a sip. He smiled wide before opening his eyes. “I love going to parties at rich peoples’ houses.”
Diana chuckled. “I wouldn’t have pegged you for a whiskey connoisseur.”
Eric shrugged. “My mom might be a drunk, but she has an expensive palate.” He gestured toward the kitchen door with his glass. “Let’s go outside. It’ll be less noisy out there.”
“Sounds good,” Diana said with a smile
Eric took a quick look around, shrugged to himself, and then grabbed the bottle of whiskey with a wide smile before leading the way.
Diana followed him out the kitchen door and into the Shepherd’s backyard, which was situated in an open clearing in front of a dense stretch of woods. Taking it all in, she wasn’t surprised in the least to find they had an in-ground swimming pool. A rather exotic pool-house stood next to the crescent-moon shaped pool of water as well. Built entirely of gray stone, the small building contained many fluid elements that reminded Diana of growing vines and trees. The black wrought-iron window panes contained similar naturalistic elements such as leaves and buds.
Passing partygoers in various stages of
carousing and inebriation, Eric and Diana took seats at a small table next to the pool underneath an umbrella. A candle burning in the middle of a glass pot, filled with polished gray stones, bathed them in a soft warm glow. It would have been terribly romantic had there not been a couple vigorously making out in the lawn chair directly behind Eric.
Placing his bottle on the table, Eric took another sip of his whiskey and continued to look pleased. “Alright, what happened?”
Diana took another sip of her own fruity drink. “Darien Shepherd—that’s what,” she said with narrowed eyes filled with indignation.
By his arched brow and slight, curious, smile, Eric seemed surprised by the notion. “The Scowling Shepherd made a move on you? I always wondered what type of girl he was into.”
“And what type of girl is that?” Diana asked surprised, and rather curious.
Eric went a bit red and laughed off his comment before answering. “Nothing bad; you know—the innocent book-worm type.”
Diana’s eyes went wide. “I am not!” She crossed her arms, taking offense at Eric’s assessment of her personality.
Eric crossed his own arms in defense, a sideways grin dancing across his face. “You put your hair in a fancy librarian braid and wore a cardigan to your first college party. It’s late August; look around. Most of these girls took the opportunity to wear the shortest skirts they could.”
Diana had to admit that Eric had a point—she probably was the most modestly dressed girl in their immediate area. She’d also spent a fair amount of her day in the library, for reasons of pure enjoyment, but she wasn’t about to let him know that.
“For example,” Eric said while gesturing behind Diana with his glass. “That girl chose the tightest black mini I’ve seen on campus in a while, and appears quite confidant in her decision.”
Diana turned around to inspect the girl with her own eyes and found Lani laughing and pulling a chuckling, and reluctant, Andrew towards the pool area.
“I have no idea why,” Eric continued. “But she seems to pull off that bright green stripe pretty well—must be the confidence.”
“Easy now,” Diana said with playful accusation, turning back around. “That’s my roommate.”
Eric cleared his throat and hid his face behind his glass while taking another sip of whiskey.
“So you’re the girl-next-door type,” Eric continued, slightly embarrassed. “Nothing wrong with that. You caught Shepherd’s eye, and that’s not easy.”
“No eye was caught—I can assure you.” Diana’s anger began to grow anew at the memory. “I went upstairs to use the restroom and I wandered into his study. He wasn’t very pleased to have me in there and treated me like I was gum on the bottom of his shoe. I got him good though.” Diana grinned at the thought.
“What’d you do?” Eric asked with an intrigued smile.
“He’d put some ancient pottery in the wrong place and I called him out on it. I bet a girl never talked back to him like that before, and made him feel stupid.” Diana smiled at her personal victory over such an incredulous jerk.
Eric was all confusion and blinked a few times. “The guy has ancient pottery and a study?” He shrugged after a brief moment of reflection. “I’m not all that surprised, actually.”
“Oh yes, it was a wonderful room full of awesome old books and decorated with all kinds of ancient artifacts.” A thought gave her pause. “I hope many of them were replicas—if they were authentic, then they were bought on the black market. Things like that should be in museums, not in the houses of pompous, rich asshats like Darien Shepherd.” She began to fume at the notion.
Eric was still looking at her with confusion but he chuckled. “See—book-worm type.” His smile was warm and genuine. “But go you! Way to stick it to him. I’ve never really liked that guy anyway. He always looks like he has to take crap and can’t find a bathroom.”
Diana laughed out loud. “He does!”
After her second Sex on the Beach, Diana began to feel considerably more at ease. She realized that most people probably didn’t actually like parties until they’d had a few drinks in their system. After that, the crappy music sounded less crappy and the annoying people grew less annoying.
After the third or fourth, Diana had to use the restroom—probably more than she’d ever had to in her life. Her last attempt had been foiled by a pompous ass-hat, after all.
“I gotta go to the bathroom,” she told Eric. “Be right back.” As Diana made her way from her new friend, she heard Eric say something about breaking a seal. Had she knocked something over? She looked around on the ground to make sure, but didn’t see anything broken. She just shrugged it off and went on to find a bathroom.
As she was walking, she realized that she had no idea where the bathroom actually was. Her bladder was going to explode before she could find it, though. She looked around for a line of some kind without a keg involved. She eventually found one, and to her delight, it was for the bathroom. To her dismay, it went as far back as the front yard.
Diana winced in bladder pain and made her way to the stairs—she had to find the bathroom on the second floor.
No, I’m not going upstairs—not again. She didn’t want to see Darien’s stupid face. A twinge of bladder pain made everything else fade from her mind and she climbed the staircase.
Avoiding the study door like she might contract the plague by walking too close to it, she eventually found the other bathroom. There was still a line, but one Diana could handle. After waiting her turn and taking care of some much needed business, Diana made her way back down the stairs. About halfway down, a sight made her freeze—Darien. She instinctively drop down behind the banister, even though anyone could still see her.
Why’d he leave his precious study to be with the rabble? He was in the corner of the parlor talking to Andrew. Whatever the conversation was about, it had Darien’s full attention because he didn’t seem agitated by his surroundings.
Diana peered through the banister to study him further. Though engaged with Andrew, his eyes were searching for something that was pushing the crowds from his mind.
He’s looking for me.
Diana shook her head. No—that wasn’t possible. She’d had too much to drink and was seeing things that she wanted to see.
Did she want Darien to be looking for her? No she didn’t—she wanted nothing to do with him. In fact, she was trying to figure out how to worm her way outside before Darien saw her.
Knowing that she probably looked ridiculous and obviously wasted, Diana snaked her way down the rest of the steps, and then crouched down into the crowd of people before making her way through the kitchen and out the back door.
Once she sat down in her chair across from Eric, Diana sighed deeply in relief. She had avoided another potentially awkward confrontation.
“I’ve never seen someone so relieved to go to the bathroom before,” Eric said through a chuckle.
Before Diana could comment, her skin began to crawl like she had just fallen into a pile of maggoty rubbish—something was terribly wrong.
Looking beyond Eric, she spotted Lani in the midst of three muscular guys standing to the side of the pool-house. As with Darien’s extreme tension earlier in the evening, Diana must have sensed their vile intentions towards her roommate. Gazing on their wicked grins, the sense of filth intensified and Diana started scratching at her arms.
“Are you cold?” Eric asked, slightly concerned. “We can go inside if you want.”
“No, I’m fine.” Though she wanted to run to her roommate, she knew Andrew would be back shortly to drive them away. There was no need to cause a scene.
After a several minutes though, Andrew never returned and Diana grew more agitated, barely paying attention to her conversation with Eric.
Panic set in when she noticed one of the guys drop something into Lani’s drink when she wasn’t paying attention. Diana quickly rose to her feet but she was too late.
“Lani was just drugg
ed,” she said to Eric in a panic. “We have to do something.”
Eric stood up along with Diana and surveyed the scene for himself. “Tony Huffman.” He said the name like a curse. “That bastard is at it again. He and his football cronies pull this shit all the time.” With Diana at his side, Eric walked with purpose to Lani’s aid.
With swift movements, Diana insinuated herself between Lani and the football players and took her roommate by the hand. “Come on Lani, we have somewhere we need to be.”
Lani, having either reached her limit long ago or already feeling the effects of whatever was slipped into her drink, seemed very confused and disoriented by Diana grabbing her hand.
“Huh?” she asked. “I thought we were going for a swim.”
“Yeah,” said one of the muscle-bound thugs. “This one wanted to go skinny dippin’ and we were all gonna have some fun.”
“No one likes your idea of fun, asshole,” Eric said while taking Lani’s other hand. “One day your dad won’t get you out of it, and your large cell mate will show you how much fun it is.”
Before Eric took two steps away with Lani, Tony’s fist collided with the side of his head and he fell to the ground; the sucker punch knocked Eric out cold.
Horrified by the scene, Diana wasn’t fully aware when another football player grabbed her by the arm and threw her away from them. She landed hard on the ground, her hands scratched and grass-stained, with the wind knocked out of her. As she gasped deeply for air, Tony kicked the unconscious Eric hard in the ribs, then picked him up and threw him into the pool.
“Have a nice swim, prick.” His laugh was despicable.
Her mind flooding with panic, Diana pushed herself to her knees. Lani was drugged and in serious trouble, and Eric had just been thrown unconscious into the pool and could be drowning. Diana did the only thing she could—she screamed for help with all she had within her.
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