by Claire Adams
There was a guy in a toga hanging out by the door, and he grinned at us as soon as we walked in. “Hey, welcome to Phi Alpha Kappa! You Greek?”
“Nah, we’re just here to use you for free alcohol,” Jess said with a grin. The guy shrugged.
“Hey, no problem there. As a token of our hospitality, allow me to offer you beautiful ladies some initial refreshments.”
The guy produced two red Solo cups of beer and held them out to us. I had never been a big fan of beer—and the kind of beer that showed up at parties like this was even worse than my dad’s treasured Sam Adams. I started to say I’d rather not.
“Evie, take the cup!” Jess grabbed the other one, shooting me a grin. “Come on, you’re here to have fun. Lighten up, will you?”
Jess grabbed the other cup, put it in my hand, and pulled me away from the doorway. I sipped at the beer and made a face as I swallowed. It was watery and bitter—no good flavor at all. Jess took a long drink of her own cup and I wondered how she could gulp down such swill. Maybe if I was lucky the liquor would still be out; I could handle some punch or some vodka and soda.
We turned a corner and all at once I spotted him. He was leaning against a wall, a couple of girls around him, looking just as hot as I could have ever remembered. Zack was tall and lean, not skinny, and he had plenty of muscle to show for years of playing football and training. He was wearing a toga, like all of the members of the frat, but draped around his waist and shoulders the sheet didn’t look ridiculous—it looked, inexplicably, incredibly hot. For a moment I was frozen in my tracks; it had been over a year since I had even seen Zack, and even though I had known he’d gone to the same college, I didn’t really think I’d ever see him. With thousands of students, what were the odds?
I couldn’t help but stare—I knew it was stupid and I didn’t want to, but I couldn’t help the rush of feelings that just seeing him gave me. Zack and I had dated in high school; he had been a junior when I was a freshman and my mom had started getting sick about the time that he and I began seeing each other. We were together for two years, until the beginning of my junior year—when Zack had graduated and was planning on going off to college. It had taken me a year and a half to get over him; I mean, it was a good experience all told, and I knew I was stronger for having gotten over it at my own speed, but the sight of him, out of the blue, brought me back to all the feelings I’d had for him. He was my first.
“Hey, Evie, you okay?” Jess’s voice snapped me out of my trance and I smiled, taking a deep breath and looking away from Zack.
“Yeah, I’m fine. Go on and find whoever you were looking to hook up with. I’ll just hang out.”
Jess looked at me for a second longer like she might not quite believe me, but Jess has never been the kind to worry for too long; she downed the rest of her beer and started off through the crowds, looking around her and greeting everyone she ran into that she might actually know.
I tried to move away, but I couldn’t stop thinking about how weird it was to see Zack again. I sort of stuck around in the middle of the room, not exactly looking at him, but pretending to be part of the group around me, like I was listening to whatever story the guy in the middle of the group was telling; but the whole time I was thinking about how things had been with Zack: how much I had loved him, and how important he’d been to me when my mom had first gotten sick. He had been a really great guy—funny, charming, smart. I couldn’t pretend like we’d had some deep relationship that was more mature than our years, but he’d been around for me when I was more stressed out than I had thought I could ever be in my life. He had hung out with me in the middle of the night, sneaking into my room while my parents slept to comfort me.
In retrospect, he hadn’t been the greatest guy in the world, but I knew well enough by then that no guy really was. He’d been immature and had broken things off with me mostly because he had wanted to be free to date whoever he wanted in college—right when things with my mom were starting to get worse. I couldn’t hold it against him specifically for that reason; it wasn’t his fault that my mom’s cancer treatment was starting to become a steep, uphill climb instead of the easy walk through the woods they had told us it would be. I’d gone out on dates and had a few short relationships after Zack had gone off to college, and I had gotten over him. But part of me had always wondered how different it would be if he had at least given us a chance when he started college.
Of course, I thought to myself wryly, I now knew well enough that even if Zack hadn’t been the partying type, college was a lot more demanding than high school. He would have had a lot less time for me, and the college wasn’t exactly close to our home town. He would have only been able to see me, at most, a couple of times a month and during breaks. Would that have been enough for me, anyway? Would I have just broken up with him eventually as my life became more and more dominated with the need to study to make good grades and spend every moment I could with my mom? It still stung. It had been hard to get over him.
I decided that I wouldn’t even say hello. I wasn’t angry or anything; I just told myself I didn’t need that kind of awkwardness on the one night I’d given myself to have fun. I’d check out what was going on around the frat house, maybe find some people worth talking to, and I’d catch up with Jess later when it was time to go. It didn’t exactly bother me that Zack was there—he clearly belonged to the frat and it wasn’t as though he needed my permission to be at a party I was attending. He had probably gone to Phi Alpha Kappa’s events since he had first started; he had joined up, and he’d be at almost any of the parties the frat threw. I just didn’t particularly want to be seen staring at him, and I knew that if I stuck around I’d do just that.
I glanced in Zack’s direction one last time, telling myself that I was just making sure of where he was so I could avoid him. But luck was not on my side; he happened to look at me the very instant I looked at him. My face burned and I knew I was blushing bright red under my makeup—obviously embarrassed. I took a deep breath, plastered a quick smile on my face. Zack’s eyes widened and I fought back the urge to run away as he said something to the girls who were gathered around him and then moved away from the wall.
He cut through the crowd, dodging the lurching, drunken people and then, as the crowd began to clear, I swear he strutted—there was a definite swagger in his steps—as he came towards me, the last few feet from where he had been standing. “Evie!” he said, smiling down at me. His teeth flashed white in the weirdly dim light of the frat house, and I returned his smile nervously.
“Hey, Zack,” I said, not trusting myself to say anything more. I realized I was staring like an idiot and shook my head. “I didn’t expect to see you here.”
Zack laughed, pulling me aside to a slightly quieter part of the main room.
“I definitely didn’t expect to see you either—I didn’t even know you were going here.” His dark eyes glinted and he grinned again. “You looked like you’ve seen one of the professors downing a shot just now!”
I laughed, feeling the tension in my stomach starting to ease.
“That would really be something,” I agreed.
Zack reached out and pushed a strand of my hair out of my face and I wondered just how messy it was—if I looked like a total wreck in spite of Jess’s approval when we left the dorms.
“Oh, well, you know, Carmine comes by sometimes and gets into the whiskey, so maybe you’ll see that sight sometime.”
Professor Carmine, one of the math professors, was almost a joke among the students; he had made at least one final in the last year a take-home test at the last moment because he had shown up for the exam with only twenty minutes left, hung over from a night of partying. More than one of the students in my classes had stories about running into Carmine at one bar or another in the area; he lived right across the street from the college, and there were plenty of places to drink within relatively easy walking distance of the campus.
“So—uh, what have you bee
n up to?” I still felt weirdly nervous around Zack, in spite of the fact that I didn’t have any real reason to be. Our relationship had ended over a year before, and I’d moved on. Clearly, Zack had too. What was there for me to feel weird about?
“Oh, well, I’m the second string quarterback; I might get a few chances to play this season, even. Of course, you know, I’m a member of this bunch of happy idiots. I’m doing all right in my classes. What about you?”
I shrugged. “Mostly just trying to keep my grades up, you know?”
I suddenly felt like a complete social loser; I would never admit to Zack that I hadn’t even gone to any of the orientation parties, instead spending my time researching classes and doing the legwork to get more scholarships for next semester or next year. I knew that Jess thought I was kind of lame—and while I told myself I didn’t care what Zack thought, deep down I knew that I didn’t want to come across as a bookworm loser to him.
“I’m glad you were able to come out tonight, then. Have you been able to make many parties since the semester started?”
I shook my head, smiling even as my cheeks burned up with another blush.
“I had it on good authority that this was the party to go to, so I’m glad I held out for a rager.”
Zack grinned again. “We need to get you a drink,” he said, grabbing my hand and steering me through the crowd. “Evan made the punch tonight—he’s got the golden touch with booze.” Zack found a table covered with cups and handed me one. “Better stay close to me; that stuff’s stronger than it tastes. Full of moonshine.”
I laughed and rolled my eyes, finally starting to relax as I had my first few sips. Zack pulled me back to the main area, and I saw that everyone around us was dancing—really dancing. The music was good, so I started to move along with it, swaying my hips and sipping my drink.
“That’s the Evie I know!” Zack said, moving a little closer to me.
Zack and I started dancing together, and at first I told myself it was just as friends; I’d seen him chatting up the other girls—I didn’t have any claim on him. As I finished off my drink, I started to sweat, and I realized that we were getting closer and closer together. My heart was beating faster, my head was spinning—the drink must have really been a lot stronger than it seemed while I was drinking it. Zack’s arms were around me and as the music pounded around us; my hips were right up against his. I could feel his cock stirring in his pants; I had to admit, I liked that I could still get a rise out of him even with all the other pretty girls at the party. Someone handed Zack another drink in passing and we split it; I didn’t even realize that I’d already gone over my pre-determined limit of just one or two drinks for the sake of being at a party.
I felt every inch of Zack’s body pressed up against mine as we danced together; it felt right—good in a way that I couldn’t define, even while my brain buzzed with alcohol and the heavy bass of the music. Zack’s face was only inches from mine, and I felt like I was in a trance of a different kind. His hand slipped up along my back, cupping my neck, slipping under my hair. “God, I fucking missed you,” Zack murmured, just loud enough for me to hear, his lips right next to my ear. The next moment, he was kissing me, his hands beginning to wander over my body, teasing me over my clothes. He tasted like punch and beer, and the familiar taste of his lips—I closed my eyes and tried not to let the room’s spinning make me fall over. I wanted that kiss too much; I barely held myself up as we continued to dance, grinding against each other, my hands trailing over his shoulders and along his back. He was bigger than he had been when we’d dated before—his muscles harder, more developed.
I lost all track of time and stopped even being aware of where I was; nothing was as important as the kiss, the feeling of Zack’s body against mine. I arched up against him, standing on the balls of my feet, wanting to feel even more of him, wanting to feel his cock harden in his pants. Zack sucked my bottom lip between his lips, nibbling on it with his teeth, the same way he had used to kiss me before, the way that used to make me weak in the knees. I shivered even though it was easily a hundred degrees in the frat house main room, wondering—in the back of my mind—just what I was doing. “Zack!” the sound of someone’s voice calling out broke through the haze on my mind—it must have broken through Zack’s brain, too. We pulled apart all at once, at the same time. I was panting a little, my heart pounding in my chest, my whole body drenched in sweat.
I swallowed, my lips still tingling, my whole body crackling from how hot the kiss had been. Zack turned his head in the direction of whoever had called to him and raised a hand, acknowledging the shout. The guy walked up—one of the other members of the frat, a grin on his face as he handed something off to Zack. “I see you’ve found your piece of ass tonight,” he said—he couldn’t have thought I’d hear him. The guy was unsteady on his feet, and his eyes were glassy; he was obviously drunk. Or maybe, I thought, the people who usually partied with the ‘bad boy frat’ were jaded enough not to care about being called a piece of ass. But something about it definitely bothered me. It sent a cold jolt through my body and I stepped back from Zack, remembering everything that was going on around me—and everything I had had in mind for the party. I had never had any intention of making out with anyone; my goal had just been to enjoy myself and to watch out for Jess. The last thing on my mind when I’d agreed to come out was that I’d make out with an ex-boyfriend. I swallowed again, taking a deep breath.
“It’s really hot in here,” I said to Zack, struggling to keep a smile on my face. “I need to see if I can find my friend; I’m supposed to be keeping an eye on her.”
Zack’s look of satisfaction fell from his face in an instant.
“I’m sure she’s fine,” Zack said, reaching out to grab my hand. “Come on, Evie—if you need to cool off I can get you a water or something.”
I shook my head and snatched my hand free, trying not to make too much of a scene. My heart was pounding for a completely different reason.
“Nah, it’s fine. I’ll…I’ll check out the back yard and see if she’s there, maybe get some fresh air.”
I smiled again and darted away from Zack before he could say anything else, plunging into the crowd. I closed my eyes for a second, thinking what an idiot I had been. I should have stuck to my plan. I should have just had a drink or two—ones I had mixed myself, not the over-powered punch the frat was serving—and kept in sight of Jess, instead of letting myself get distracted by Zack. The drunken brother’s comment, that I was Zack’s piece of ass for the night, rattled around in my head. He didn’t know what he was talking about, I told myself firmly. Even if we hadn’t been distracted by the guy, I wouldn’t have gone to bed with Zack.
I went outside, but there was no sign of Jess anywhere—and the people hanging around and in the pool were even drunker than those inside. It reeked of pot and vomit, and as the alcohol continued to hit my system I had to hold my breath to keep from puking at the smell. I plunged back inside and breathed in the sweat-and-alcohol smell, surprised to be relieved by it. I shook my head at myself; there was no way I’d be able to find Jess in the crowd that packed the frat house. I pulled my phone out and looked at it, hoping she had texted me. No such luck. I would have to keep looking.
I finally found Jess in one of the smaller public areas of the frat house, sitting on a couch with an African American frat member whose toga was sloppily wrapped around him. I wondered if that was the guy that Jess had come to the party to meet up with or if she had given up on the guy she’d been interested in and had taken the attention of this new guy as a good second option. She looked pretty pleased with herself either way. I hurried into the room, hoping that Zack wouldn’t come into it—that he had already moved on to greener pastures, as much as the thought of him ending up in bed with another girl after making out with me hurt, just a little.
“Jess,” I said, sitting down in the empty spot next to her. “It’s time to go, girl.”
Jess turned to look at me
, at least a little drunk by the glassiness of her eyes, and grinned.
“Oh come on, the party’s just getting good,” she said, reaching down and holding the guy’s hand. “Have one more drink and then we’ll go.”
I wanted to argue, but I knew in her current state of mind, Jess would be impossible to convince. I let the frat guy she was with get one of the pledges to grab me another dose of punch. I wanted to leave; the longer I stayed, the better the chances would be that Zack would find me again, and that was—at that moment at least—the last thing in the world that I wanted. I drank the punch as quickly as I could while Jess continued to talk to the guy she was with, laughing at his jokes and cuddling up to him. I finished off the punch and showed Jess the empty cup.
“I had another drink; I finished it, now can we please go?”
I knew we’d only been there a couple of hours—I’d checked the time when I looked to see if Jess had texted me. But I wanted out of there. The night had been an unmitigated disaster, as far as I was concerned. Jess finally relented and leaned in to give her companion a long, sloppy kiss before she traipsed out of the room with me in tow. The last cup of punch was going straight to my head and I dreaded the next morning, but we managed to make our way out of the frat house without falling, and soon enough, we were on the sidewalk headed back to the dorms, switching out our heels for our flats so we wouldn’t sprain an ankle in the dark.
CHAPTER TWO
The next morning, I woke up feeling as if I had poison in my stomach. I buried my face against my pillow, groaning; my head was pounding, every joint in my body felt like it was packed with broken glass, and I was sure that if I moved too quickly, I’d throw up everywhere. I managed to get out of my bed, crawling on my hands and knees to my desk. I grabbed a bottle of Gatorade from the bottom drawer—it was warm, but it would help—and I rummaged in one of the other drawers until I found the bottle of aspirin I kept for regular headaches. I pulled the shades over my window and crawled back into bed, sipping Gatorade while I waited for the aspirin to kick in. It had been ages since I’d had a hangover, and this one felt like it was worse than the last one I’d ever gotten. That punch had been lethal.