by Mia Ford
“Or the booze and one-night stands, as it were,” I retorted, gaining me a slightly less humored expression.
“So, you going home for the break?”
“I have to. I’m just waiting it out as long as possible. Being berated for the extent of the time that I’m there isn’t exactly my idea of fun.”
“Your parents are whacked,” she replied, “I could see if I were you…I mean, I love my lifestyle of barely making it by, but you actually work for your grades…and your living. If my parents didn’t have to pay for my school, I wouldn’t go.”
“Yeah, I know.”
She grinned, “I’d still come bust your ass out to have a little fun, though…and I might even crash at your place, so life wouldn’t change too much.”
“Thanks,” I chuckled, “I’m so glad that our friendship is a higher priority in your life than school.” The sarcasm in my voice was obvious, but when Riley answered, I could tell she wasn’t kidding.
“Of course, it is. But I wouldn’t take it to heart. There are many things that are more important to me than school.”
“And yet, you continue to do well,” I mused, “Imagine what you could do if you actually tried. You could be valedictorian.”
Riley made a disgusted face. “Which, in the real world, doesn’t mean anything. Experience is what really helps people out in life and I’m always up for a new and exciting experience. I mean, think about it, when you’re out of school, you go to a bar…Everyone is on the same page, due to loss of inhibitions and so they’re more apt to talk to you. You get a few numbers, actually ask for some names and use that to broaden your networking. Plus, you got to have fun...Adulting, exposed. I win.”
I laughed, “Wait, let me get this straight, you’re going to go to bars, make friends with people and then stalk them on social media, for the sole purpose of finding someone you can professionally connect with?”
“Nobody says no if you tell them you met them at a bar…I mean, people find their spouses at a bar, why not find job leads?”
I couldn’t exactly argue with her, though I still thought something was amiss with her idea. However, I didn’t press further, instead, I asked, “Okay, so what do you call what we’re doing here? Everyone’s a college student. Nobody has any real connections yet…”
“Practice,” she beamed as the bus pulled up at our spot.
We got off the bus and I vaguely remembered the neighborhood where we were dropped off. Granted, I only saw it while we were on our way to the house, because after me and my friend gin met up, there wasn’t much left of my memory from that night.
“What do you think about living around here when we finally want to get out on our own? You know, ditch the dorms,” Riley asked, looking around at the neighborhood as well.
“I think this would be extremely dangerous for both of us, if this frat house is still here.” I answered honestly.
“You call it danger, I call it saving money on a bus fare,” she responded, her shoulders rising and lowering nonchalantly as she spoke.
I just shook my head again, knowing that the time when that decision would need to be made, if we ever did make that decision in the first place, was a long time off.
Even before we got to the party, we could hear those who were already in attendance yelling and screaming, enjoying the freedom that came with the end of the semester.
The house was huge, with a Victorian feel that would be gorgeous if the men who lived here took any pride in the home’s potential.
It wasn’t as though they were particularly dirty, especially for a frat house. The lawn was mowed and inside, besides the mountains of beer and piles of pizza boxes the house was clean.
Of course, it was a frat house, so the stench of alcohol and order-in food was fused with the walls but even in my limited tour of the American frat house, there were some that were much, much worse.
It was early but there was already a mass of people, especially hovering around the alcohol and close to the music.
I didn’t recognize anyone who was there but there were plenty of people, both men and women who stopped what they were doing to give Riley a hug and to welcome her.
It’s like being with the mayor…I thought, “Hey, Riley, if you know all these people, why the hell do you insist on hanging out with my lame, sweater-wearing ass?”
“Because you’re my best friend,” she replied simply, “And I love your lame, sweater-wearing ass.”
With that, she forged ahead in pursuit of the drink table. I almost immediately lost her in the thick herd of bodies all pressing forward for their own taste of free, liquid excitement.
A few moments later, Riley emerged from the crowd, carrying a handful of shots, my gin and a solo cup of beer. She held out her hands and motioned for me to take my drink, as we both headed toward an empty seat at the kitchen island where we were able to unload.
I blinked, staring pointedly at the amount of alcohol she had managed to hoard in such a short period of time.
“What? When your there, you want to take as much as you can, so you’re drunk by the time you go back.”
Realizing how much of a pain it must be to actually get to the drinks, especially when it’s everyone’s first or second, I couldn’t help but agree that she likely had a point. I sipped my gin, happy to feel the burn in the back of my throat.
It wasn’t a particularly familiar feeling, but that certainly didn’t mean I enjoyed it any less.
“Here,” Riley urged, pressing a shot into my hand, “Trust me,” she insisted when I looked wearily at the shot, then back to my drink of choice, “After this, your drink will only taste better.” She laughed, “Hell, after a few of these, everything will be better.”
Sighing and trying to avoid the urge to tell her that nothing was wrong to begin with, I put my drink down on the counter and raised the tiny shot glass.
Usually, I enjoyed my gin and other liquor on the rocks, but I also wasn’t against having a shot with Riley.
“To having some fun!” Riley toasted as we tapped our cups together before throwing our heads back and downing the drinks.
An explosion of cinnamon and fire exploded in my mouth. Whisky was Riley’s drink of choice. She would usually have a few to get her night going.
I wasn’t generally a fan of any other liquor besides gin, but since it was a tradition of hers, I figured I should take part.
After all, I was intending to get drunk anyway, so I might as well have fun doing it.
Riley laughed at the face I made and handed me another.
“No, thanks…Really…” I answered, but Riley insisted.
“Come on! You’re telling me that you can drink all that, but you can’t handle two teeny shots?”
“I actually like this taste,” I answered, already starting to feel a slight buzz. It certainly didn’t take much.
“This isn’t about liking it. It’s about getting drunk, so then you like everything,” she insisted.
I groaned and grabbed the shot from her, as though she had really tried all that hard to get me to have another.
She grinned when I took it and we raised our drinks again before throwing them back.
“The second one’s not so bad, right?” Riley asked, reacting to my expression again. “want another…”
“No!” I insisted, this time serious, “I’m going to be mad if I can’t taste my drink now.”
“Oh, you’ll be fine!” She exclaimed as she downed another shot, seamlessly.
I went back to sipping my drink.
We continued to talk and drink for the better part of an hour, until I was slightly afraid to stand. Occasionally, Riley would stop to talk to some of the party-goers and would introduce me. Unfortunately, alcohol did little to help elevate my social skills. Instead of simply being shy and for the most part, unable to have fun, I was now drunk, having fun, but still extremely shy.
“I think you need to get laid,” Riley insisted, almost out of the blue.
/> “We had this conversation already,” I insisted, looking into my drink to avoid her expression.
“Yeah, but that was before I saw all of these hot guys and I think you would have so much fun with one of them,”
“I think you’re wrong. You don’t need to babysit me. If you’ve got your eye on someone…”
“No, girl! That’s not it. I want you to have fun. I want you to feel real freedom…Not just drinking. I want you to be able to feel what it means to be a woman,” Riley insisted. Her theatrics were hilarious to me and having a few too many drinks in me, I was far more agreeable to her suggestion than I would’ve been in any other situation.
“Okay,” I agreed cautiously, “Say I did want to do this…what? Do I just go up to some random guy and tell him I want to fuck him?”
Riley scoffed, “Of course not! I’ll introduce you and then you won’t have to waste any of your slightly threatening pickup lines.”
“What? Riley, I was joking! That wasn’t a pickup line.”
“Okay, well, this is what I’m good at, so I want you to trust me.”
“Will I get to lay down?” I asked, suddenly feeling the buzz wearing off and a bout of dizziness overtake me.
“Of course,” she exclaimed, “But you probably shouldn’t sleep…”
I opened my mouth to tell her that I wasn’t sure this was a good idea but before I could say a word, Riley had already left.
“I found someone, he’s perfect!” She called over her shoulder as she darted away from the area where we were sitting.
I watched her go over to a guy in a flirtatious manner and strike up a conversation with him. I could tell he was reacting to her positively by the way his body language was set but I couldn’t imagine what she was saying to him.
I stared at the guy, trying to figure out what I was doing.
He is cute… I thought, but I didn’t want to get my hopes up. After all, he was a little too cute; the football player type. He stood like a natural leader and the only one who didn’t seem to care was Riley. Everyone else simply seemed like they were afraid of him, or at least somewhat distant.
After a few moments of chatting it up with rent-a-screw, Riley pointed at me and I waved, unsure of what to do. I was mortified, but this was normal for Riley. She wasn’t afraid of anything. She was comfortable being herself in any situation. Myself, on the other hand, was barely comfortable being myself in any situation.
Still, instead of a disgusted expression, the man grinned, and his eyebrow rose up with what I could only hope was a sense of allure and temptation.
I looked down, hoping I looked as appealing as I felt in this skimpy outfit. However, not wanting to seem even more desperate than I already did, with my friend doing my dirty work for me, I looked away. I was trying to play hard to get, having fun with the situation, despite myself, even though I had no idea what I was doing.
After a few more moments of me painfully trying to act as though I wasn’t interested in the situation that was unfolding, deciding my sexual future, I heard Riley behind me.
“Flora, this is Ben. He said he is excited to meet you.”
With a deep breath I hoped nobody heard, I turned around and grinned at him.
“Hi…” I grinned, not sure how to approach a one-night stand greeting.
“Hi, Flora…You look beautiful.”
I giggled, “Thanks…And you look handsome.”
Knowing that I sounded stupid the second I spoke, I didn’t even have to look in Riley’s direction to feel the glower she was shooting me.
“She doesn’t get out much,” Riley insisted, “But she’s a lot of fun.”
I didn’t speak, fearing that anything I would say would make me feel even dumber. I simply grinned but felt no less stupid for doing that.
“Well, Flora,” the guy turned to me, “Riley tells me that you want to have a little fun tonight?”
“Yes,” I uttered, still afraid to move off the chair. “Is that okay with you?”
“Oh, it’s more than okay…” Ben hissed in a low growl, “Why don’t you come upstairs with me? I’ll show you around.”
When the guy held out his hand, I was slightly hesitant, but felt Riley knock me off the stool.
“She just needs some time to warm up, then you won’t be able to get rid of her,” I heard Riley exclaim as I tried to curb the motion sickness that hit me the second my feet hit the floor.
“Oh, don’t worry,” Ben insisted, “I’ll get her to open up.”
His voice held a suggestive tone that instantly worried me. When he pulled me along behind him, toward the stairs, I shot Riley an angered look, but she simply smiled and called, “Have fun!”
Apparently, she thought I was simply playing around with her, because I know she would never do anything to intentionally hurt me or make me do something against my wishes.
I went upstairs with him, not wanting to make a scene, but when he brought me directly to an unoccupied room, the strange feeling I had about him increased. However, I didn’t even have a chance to speak before he closed the door and turned around, backing me up against the door.
He tried to kiss me, but I dodged it.
“Ben why don’t we talk a little,” I spoke quickly, flattening myself against the door as much as I possibly could to avoid his lips.
Even though he looked nice, when he got closer, I could smell a strange concoction of cigarette smoke, alcohol, and man sweat, which didn’t help the current state of my fragile stomach.
“Why talk? Your friend said you weren’t a talker, so I figured we’d get right to it,” He insisted, bringing my head back to face him. This time, when I tried to turn away, he clasped my chin in his hand hard, disallowing me to turn away.
His kiss was drunken and slovenly, almost as though he wasn’t completely aware of what he was doing.
I pushed him back, “No! Stop!”
“You bitch!” He exclaimed, “I try to do you a favor and you’re trying to give me blue balls.”
“Eww!” I yelled, slipping out of his grasp, “I’m done! Goodbye!”
As soon as I had an opening, I tried to pull the door opened but a massive hand shoved it closed again.
“Nobody walks away from me!” Ben seethed, his eyes mad with rage and excitement.
“No!” I screamed, hardly knowing what I was doing. Instantly, I was sobered up and all I felt now was fear. As I turned around, I swung my fist toward him, connecting securely with his jaw. The hit was so hard and so impactful, in just the right spot, that it nearly knocked the man out.
He swerved back before collapsing on the floor, but I didn’t wait around long enough to see exactly how much damage was done. All I wanted to do was get out of there.
Once I was able to successfully open the door, I stomped down the stairs and stormed out of the party.
Chapter 2: Collin
I was never into parties; at least not in the way my friends were; or at least, the people he was innately, inexcusably expected to be friends with. They were crazy. All they ever thought about was booze, women, and sex…though not in that order.
Occasionally, they would want to watch football or do something other than drink heavily but for the most part, that was my life; a litany of drinking, sex, parties, and sometimes football.
Not that it was a particularly bad existence. I had always guessed that if I was hanging around people I actually liked, things would be better, and I would have more fun.
After all, I certainly wasn’t against drinking, girls, sex, and sometimes football, but being around these guys, who were complete and utter party animals, though they couldn’t hold their liquor well, wasn’t fun.
I ended up being the one to ensure they didn’t die and that meant that I couldn’t drink myself into oblivion.
After all, I was supposed to be the responsible one. I was definitely the smartest out of all the guys I hung around with, but I never quite understood why that meant I had to try to help the rest of them b
ecome less stupid.
After two years of trying, unsuccessfully, I could confidently declare that it was a waste of time.
Although, maintaining a friendship with them, at least while I was in college, was beneficial.
The guys I hung around with were my father’s friend’s sons, basically. I had grown up with them but didn’t have to actually deal with them on a daily basis until, guess what, we all got accepted to the same prestigious business school. We were all awarded scholarships, so it was an easy decision.
The only thing that bothered me about the whole thing was that it wasn’t my decision. Sure, I probably would’ve still opted to go but the only reason I got the scholarship was because my father’s friend was an alumnus who donated an exuberant amount of money to the school, so he cashed in his favors. This wasn’t by any means his only favors and he certainly wasn’t doing it out of the goodness of his heart. It was a business move and the best way to get to a businessman’s pocket is through his family.
Good or bad, you will always be remembered by that businessman and if what you did was good, the next time you need a favor, that businessman should be willing to help.
If not, without a damn good reason, he probably won’t have such a flourishing business for much longer.
My father tried to teach me the ins and outs of being that kind of person; the kind of person that my father was, in hopes that I would take over the company someday. Yet, most of my life, I did exactly what I did within my social circle in college. I simply went along for the ride, so that I didn’t get left behind.
I already wasn’t exactly the son my father wanted me to be. I was nothing like him, or the next generation of businessmen that my father forced me to network with. I had next to nothing in common with them and at times, I hated them.
For the most part, the guys were straight-up assholes. Yet, being that my father got stuck with me, I still wanted to try my best to please him. I didn’t want to become a social pariah on top of my blatant inability to become sociopath.
So, I drank with the guys and hit on women, like I was just like them, but it wasn’t fun. Most of our advances were rejected, which was fine with me, since I was only reaching for the stereotypical hot girls. I figured if one did take the bait, I couldn’t lose, but as much as I wasn’t about to turn down sex, I wasn’t about to beg for it…or do God knows what else to get it.