by Rhonda James
"Gee, thanks. I would have preferred finding out on my own. Now you've ruined it."
"Trust me, it was not pretty. I'm sparing you the gory discovery. Now, what do you say? Stay home and not be surprised, or go out with me and have fun?"
"You're not going to shut up until I say yes, are you?"
"Probably not."
I breathe out a long sigh and dangle my legs over the edge of the bed. "What time do we leave?"
***
I've been ready and waiting for fifteen minutes while Roni primps in the bathroom. While I hang out, I pass time scrolling through social media. I post a selfie on Instagram with the hashtag #partywithseabiscuit, then shoot off a quick text to my mom to say I'll call her on Sunday. I'm in the middle of typing out another to see how much longer Roni will be, when one comes through for me.
I know it's wrong, because he's my brother's friend who's made it clear he will never touch me again, but when I see his name, I get tingly all over.
Him: What's up?
Me: Not much. Heading 2 a party.
Him: The one at Sig Phi?
Me: Hmm, let me check.
"Hey, Veronica." I have to yell over the noise of her hairdryer. "This party we're going to, is it at Sig Phi?"
"Yeah. That's Josh's frat house." My eyes roll toward the ceiling. Great. I'm pretty sure she'll end up spending the night and I'll walk home alone. Lucky me.
Me: That's the one.
Him: Watch out for those Sig boys.
Me: Aww, ur worried about me.
Him: Well, u know, underage and all. I'd rather u share your first tequila shot with me.
Me: What makes u think I'm a tequila virgin?
Him: Call it a hunch. I've been thinking...
Me: Sounds dangerous.
Him: On occasion, yes.
Me: What's up?
Him: Remember that maybe?
Me: I do. I'm still angry with u.
Him: Well, I can't have that now, can I? Now it's a yes.
Me: Aww, B. I'm touched.
Him: Told u I'm a nice guy.
Me: U kinda dig me, don't u, B?
Him: Just meet me tomorrow at 5.
Me: I knew it!
Him: It's turning back into a maybe.
Me: Fine. Deny your true feelings. See u at 5.
What a goofball. I stare at the screen and feel a twinge of guilt for deceiving him. I know I run the risk of him showing up at the coffee house and storming back out when he realizes I'm Candy. I hate lying, yet I also hate he'd been so quick to push me away.
***
Wild doesn't begin to describe the scene greeting us when we walk through the door at Sigma Phi house. A half-naked girl comes screaming down the stairs and runs out the door we just entered, while a shirtless, tattooed guy darts between the gawkers to chase after her. My first inclination is to be concerned for her safety, then I hear her make a reference to their relationship being over, and I realize these two exhibitionists know one another. After that, we all go back to what we were doing.
One glance around the room and I'm already preparing an early escape. To the left of the front door is a large room that must hold a hundred students, and most of them are crowded around a pool table or the bank of foosball tables lining the perimeter of the room. A secondary staircase sits on the far side of the room. Guys and girls wearing bathing suits are packed on the stairs like sardines as they wait their turn to dive into an awaiting blow-up pool filled with a red, gelatinous substance.
We weave our way through the room in search of the kitchen, somehow managing to avoid getting sprayed by red chunks flying through the air. Three large kegs greet us when we reach our destination and, not surprisingly, so does Josh.
"You made it!" he calls to Roni as she gets closer. Taking her by the hand, he pulls her in for an open-mouthed kiss, and it's hard not to recall the last time I saw him. Even if it was a brief glance, I've been scarred for life. I may never look at him the same way. He glances over, finally acknowledging my presence, and a scowl fills his face. "Who's your friend?"
"You remember my roommate, Cassie?" My eyes shoot daggers her way, but miraculously, she remains unaffected. The way she clings to Josh's chest only proves my earlier guesstimate I will be on my own heading home tonight.
"Oh, yeah. Hey, sorry about that little scare, but maybe you should try knocking next time." With that, he turns, leading Roni into the adjoining room, and I'm left standing with a look of pure hatred on my face. What a jerk.
Rolling my eyes, I fill a red plastic cup with beer and make my way through the crowded kitchen and into the next room. This house seems to be a never-ending maze of rooms, each one seemingly larger than the one you just left. While passing a group of nerdy looking guys standing in the corner, I learn this particular fraternity houses forty upperclassmen. I whistle under my breath, failing to understand the allure of living with that many people. I like solitude and value my privacy. Having a roommate sleeping less than five feet from my own bed took some getting used to, but the thought of that many people walking around, with the ability to get up in my personal space at any given moment, is enough to send shivers down my spine.
No matter how many times I've looked, I can't seem to find Roni anywhere. I take a sip of my beer and instantly want to spit it back out. Keg beer. Yuck. I'm most certainly not a fan. Finally, I give up my search and take up residence in one corner of the game room. The windowsill is lined with red solo cups, so I think nothing of adding one more to the mix. By now, the pool divers are completely covered in gelatinous goo, and I pity the poor sap charged with cleaning it up tomorrow. There's a spot on one of the sofas in the room, but I can only imagine what has taken place on those cushions, and that vision keeps me standing. All around me, couples are hooking up and seem completely oblivious to the fact a hundred other students surround them. I'm all for PDA, but what I'm witnessing goes way beyond that. The couple on the sofa looks like they're eating each other's faces off. Next to them, another girl is straddling some guy's lap while he plays with her breasts. Instantly, I feel my cheeks flush, so I turn my head and pretend I didn't see anything before I give up and move to the opposite side of the room.
At one point, I'm watching a heated game of foosball when I get the feeling someone is checking me out. I look up, and when our eyes meet, he takes it as an invitation to join me, and I'm trapped while he talks about how wonderful life is at the frat house. From what I gather, since he's drunk and openly slurring, he's a junior who's solely responsible for planning the entire party. Somehow, I find that hard to believe, but I just smile and continue feigning interest.
The pleasantries come to an end when he starts getting touchy-feely. It starts with him running the knuckles of one hand over my cheek, while the other skims over my hip.
"What do you say we continue this conversation upstairs? I've got a room up there where it's quiet and we can get to know one another better." I raise my shoulder to my cheek in an attempt to remove his hand, while at the same time taking a small step to the side.
"Sorry. My roommate and I are meeting up in a few and heading out. Maybe some other time." I don't wait for him to respond, but the look on his face indicates he isn't drunk enough to miss I've just blown him off.
I duck away and head for the stairs. I still can't find Veronica, but I dash up the stairs for one last look around. I spot a couple on the landing, locked in what appears to be a tender embrace, but at second glance I realize I'm witnessing something much more intimate. She's wearing a short denim skirt, and his hand is between her parted legs. Her head is thrown back and her eyes are closed. His mouth covers hers, muffling her screams, but I'm unable to tear my eyes away as I watch the orgasm roll through her body and she collapses into him. Beads of sweat form at my temples, and suddenly I feel as if I have on way too many clothes. Pleasure courses through my body, and I know if I reach between my own legs I'll find I'm soaking wet. It's been a long time since I've been on the receiving end of
anything as stimulating as that.
I turn, embarrassed and feeling every bit the voyeur for watching their moment of intimacy. Although, in my defense, they were in the middle of a crowded frat house. I mean, who does that? People in love? Two people so sexually attracted to one another they can't keep their hands off each other? The last scenario strikes a nerve within me, and I'm back to longing for the touch of a stranger. Well, not just any stranger. One specific dark-haired hockey player comes to mind. I'm embarrassed to even think about him. I know he's off-limits. I've heard it from Scotty, and from Brantley himself, but it doesn't erase what transpired between us before he knew me as 'Scotty's kid sister.' God, sometimes I hate that label, and thinking about it upsets me further. I pass a bathroom that is miraculously available and duck inside to escape. Sagging against the door, I find myself wishing I were back home in Illinois.
If I'm completely honest, I hate it here. Outside of Veronica, I haven't made a lot of friends. I guess I could count Jordan and Davis, but I assume they're only being nice because of Scotty. And don't get me started on my brother. I came all this way, hoping we would be able to rekindle our bond. So far, the only quality time we've spent together was the morning I woke up in Brantley's bed and he took me out to breakfast. Since then, he's either had class, practice, or he's been hanging out with Ashley. My course schedule is too much, and I'm close to failing calculus. All of this has been piling up, and then add on the fact I'm at my first frat party at this school and the only person to pay me any interest was a drunken asshole who just wanted to show me his room.
When my eyes meet my reflection in the mirror I can't hold back any longer. Tears pool in the corners of my eyes, and before I can swipe them away, they fall down my face, soaking the front of my shirt. I'm bending down to splash cold water on my face when the door bursts open and someone steps through.
"Oh, wow, I'm sorry. I didn't know anyone was in here," says a familiar voice. I lift my gaze back to the mirror and stare at yet another person who wants nothing to do with me. I realize now I've never felt so lonely in my life. And just that quickly, the waterworks start up again. "Hey, don't cry. I'm sorry I surprised you like that."
He stands by the door, looking uncomfortable, with his hands tucked in the front pocket of his jeans. His eyes dart back and forth between my reflection and the closed door beside him. I can tell he's conflicted. On one hand, I'm Scott's little sister, and he may feel the need to protect me. On the other, that same loyalty to my brother calls him to uphold the bro' code he was spouting off about. In this moment, I couldn't care less about either. I'm upset and just want some damn privacy. To hell with all of these rules and obligations. Just once I'd like to come first in someone's life. When Justin and I were dating, he always talked about how I was number one in his life. But the irony was, his love for hockey and his family always kept me at a distant third.
Before I know it, strong arms envelop me, and I'm cocooned in the warmth of his body. "Shhh. It's okay, Cassie." His big hand smoothes over the back of my hair and down my back. "It's gonna be okay."
CHAPTER NINE
BRANTLEY
My arms are wrapped tightly around her tiny waist. She's taller than I first assumed, yet the top of her head barely reaches the top of my chest. I lower my head, breathing in the sweet fragrance of her strawberry-scented shampoo, and it's just as I remembered. I move to pull away, but she fists my shirt in her hands and cries even harder. My brows wrinkle in confusion, and I'm not sure what I should do.
"What happened? Did someone hurt you? Which one of these assholes do I have to kill?" I say it to try and make her laugh, but something inside me tells me if she says one of these dickheads laid a hand on her, I won't hesitate to follow through on that offer.
She doesn't answer right away, so I keep quiet and simply hold her. I've never had a sister, but I suppose this is what Rivers would do if he were here and she was crying uncontrollably. The only problem with that analogy is, being this close stirs up memories of her lying on top of me. Knowing how close I came to sleeping with her concerns me. There's a war going on inside my head right now. One voice is screaming, telling me to let go and walk away. While another is quietly pointing out how good she feels wrapped in my arms. It's only when she shifts beneath me that I take a much needed step back.
"No," she sniffs and wipes a hand over one side of her face. I reach around her to grab a few tissues then hold them out for her to take. "Thank you. I promise I'm fine. It's just a lot of shit kinda bubbled over and I needed a good cry. I think I'd just like to go back to the dorms." Her eyes shift between my face and the floor, and I can tell she's embarrassed about crying in front of me.
"Hey," I try keeping my voice soft, hoping it will help her calm down. My hand reaches out and lifts her chin, and I brush my thumb over her cheek. "Don't be embarrassed. We all need a good cry every now and again. Personally, I cried like a baby my first year."
"You?" A soft giggle escapes her throat as she shakes her head at my admission. "I don't believe that. You're too cool to lose it like this."
I use my finger to draw an imaginary X across my chest while nodding. "Cross my heart it's the honest truth. But do me a favor and don't tell the guys. I have a reputation to uphold." This gets me a deep laugh and I sense she's coming back around. "Listen, maybe it would be best if you headed home. This isn't the best scene to be around when you're feeling vulnerable. I would hate for something to happen." I'm thinking about some asshole trying to get in her pants, but I'm pretty sure she has no idea that's what I'm implying.
"I was trying to find my friend, but I think she's already in one of these rooms with her fuck buddy." She scrunches up her face when she says this.
"Not a fan of hooking up, I take it."
"It's not the hook-up that disgusts me. It's the guy she's with. He's a total D-bag. Like, seriously, straight up prick."
I nod, because I can only imagine which one of these losers her friend has set her sights on. Out of all the fraternities on campus, this one seems to have drawn the largest population of assholes.
"Would you like me to take you back to your dorm?" My feet shuffle over the tiled floor, and I realize I'm nervous. I want her to say yes, while at the same time I'm silently pleading with her to turn down my offer.
"Okay. That would be really nice. I was assuming I would have to walk back alone."
I blow out a nervous breath and take a step forward. My lips meet her forehead before I can second-guess my decision. Thankfully, I don't go lower, though I'd be lying if I said it wasn't where I'd originally intended to end up. There's just something about this girl that hits me like a stick to the gut. "Come on. Let's get you out of here."
***
It's a nice night, and for once I'm glad I chose to walk rather than drive the short distance. I hadn't even planned on stopping by. But one of the guys from the team said he wanted to check out the new freshmen babes. I'd followed along just to witness him make an ass of himself. He totally did, too. I swear, the guy's reputation precedes him because most of the new chicks flat out refused to speak to him. I couldn't help but laugh. Women talk, especially ones who have been burned before.
We see them all the time. Puck bunnies. They're chicks who hang around practice, go to every game, all in the hopes of hooking up with one of the players. The way they go about it is a joke. They walk around campus on game day, wearing the jersey of the player they hope to get busy with. Sometimes you'll see ten girls walking around with the same player's jersey, and you actually feel sorry for the poor sap for having to choose between them. I've been there, on more than one occasion, and I can honestly say it is quite the ego trip. The rules seem to be quite simple. The girl and the player know the score before they even do the deed. But, without fail, there's always one girl who becomes too attached, and when she discovers she was just another notch on his hockey stick, she gets angry and spreads all sorts of slanderous gossip.
For me, making the choice between girls wa
s usually pretty easy. I prefer blondes, but I also like a girl I can have a stimulating conversation with. Even if we're just hooking up for sex. I don't want to listen to nonsense spewing forth from her mouth while we're making out. It's a complete turn off for me. But lately, I haven't been going home with any of them. After a while it became mundane, and I'm not looking for mundane. Quite frankly, I'm not looking for anything. I'd just prefer to meet someone I can make a connection with on a level that goes deeper than some girl looking to ride my stick. You know what I'm saying? That doesn't mean I want a relationship. Screw that. I would just like to have a chick for a friend. You know, maybe someone I can talk to about all of this shit going on inside my head related to my parents.
That's why I'm enjoying my chats with Candy. I'm actually looking forward to meeting her tomorrow. We've only been texting over a period of a week, but from the short replies she's been sending I get the impression we could hit it off.
On the opposite end of the spectrum, you have the girls we've affectionately dubbed as Jersey Girls. These are the girls you see in class, or on campus. The ones who make certain parts of your body stand up and take notice. And when you see them attending practice or a game you catch yourself skating faster, playing harder. They're the ones you want to find cheering for you. The girl you find yourself inviting to games, even going so far as to throw her a wave during warm ups. And, finally, she's the one you hope to see wearing your jersey while you're busting your ass out on the ice. If you're lucky, you'll get to see her wearing that same jersey, and nothing else, the morning after. Whether your team won or lost, it doesn't matter, cause when she's in your arms, you feel as if you've just won the Stanley Cup.
"How long have you been playing hockey?" Her words sound as if she's out of breath, and I notice she has to take three steps to match just one of mine. I chuckle and slow my pace.
"The earliest memory for me would have to be three years old, but mom swears my dad had me on the ice with him when I first started walking. My dad used to play when he was younger, and he had this pair of skates custom made for me. They were so small. They're displayed on a shelf in my old bedroom back in Colorado."