by Gemma Weir
Griff’s voice is low. So low I can barely hear him, but somehow, I feel every word he says. His fingers touch my shoulder, sliding up to wrap around the side of my neck and my skin pebbles beneath his touch.
This isn’t right. This is my friend, my best friend, practically my family, and yet his touch, his chest pressed so close to mine, doesn’t feel wrong.
“Time to party,” Zeke calls from the stairs.
In the blink of an eye, Griff’s gone, clear across the other side of the room, his face a mask. I stare, unsure if any of that happened or if I just imagined it.
“Emmy, where the fuck you been hiding all that? You look hot,” Zeke says, scooping me off the floor and leaning me back over his arm in an exaggerated dip.
“Zeke,” I cry, giggling.
“Come on, hottie. Time to get our party on,” He says, lifting me back up and twirling me in his arms until my back is pressed against his chest, his arm looped around my waist.
Nova walks through the door and into the room, Valentine on her heels and I almost gasp at how perfect they look together. Nova’s willowy body is covered in skintight, cropped leather pants that fit her like a second skin and a simple white cami tucked in, with a long necklace hanging between her breasts. Tall, black pumps are on her feet and her hair is hanging loose and straight around her shoulders.
Valentine barely seems to have made an effort in his black ripped jeans, scuffed boots, and ratty looking band tee, but somehow together they look like they just fell off a runway. For the first time I take in Zeke and Griffin, who are in similar, slim, ripped jeans. Zeke’s in a t-shirt that says ‘You’re Welcome’ on the front and Griffin’s in a black button down, the sleeves rolled to the elbow.
They all look gorgeous, the beautiful people, and for a moment I feel truly unexceptional and out of place. I really don’t play in the same league as my friends.
Holy shit, am I their DUFF?
I brush the thought away as soon as it pops into my head. Everyone is someone’s designated ugly fat friend, even when they’re not actually fat and ugly. I only feel plain because they’re all so gorgeous.
Note to self, make a normal looking friend.
“Em, you need to lend me that outfit. It’s so cute and you look gorgeous in it,” Nova gushes, rushing over to me and running her fingers through the end of my curls. “Babe, you look so hot.”
“You look beautiful, Emmy,” Valentine, says, smiling at me.
“Thanks,” I say shyly, not appreciating all of the attention. “Shall we go?”
“Group selfie first,” Nova cries, producing a selfie stick from her purse and waving her hand for us all to crowd around her.
We smile for the picture, then leave the house to make the short walk to where the frat houses are located. It’s not exactly frat row as the houses are spread over three streets, but the area is clearly frat and sorority heaven if all of the plaques on the houses and the huge insignias landscaped into the front yards are anything to go by.
“We’re not in Kansas anymore, Toto,” I mutter beneath my breath, as the Kappa Tau house comes into view. The party is raging, people spilled out onto the lawn as lights and music pour from the huge white rendered house. A massive banner reading “Fresh Meat” hangs across half the front of the house, as if people wouldn’t be able to guess where the party’s at without it.
“Hell yes,” Zeke cries happily, striding forward to the guy guarding the front door.
“What are the magic words?” The guy asks in a bored voice.
Zeke furrows his brow, then looks to us, before turning back to the guy. “Fresh meat?” He says with a shrug.
Suddenly the guys expression changes from bored to ecstatic as he throws his head back and bellows, “Fresh meat,” into the night air.
A chorus of fresh meat calls back and he steps back from the doorway allowing us entry into the party.
Zeke glances back to us and steps forward, only to have another guy bar the way. He holds out a red plastic cup to Zeke. “Cover charge is ten bucks each. You only get one cup; lose it and you have to pay again in full to get another. Kegs out in the garden, pump it yourself, don’t take drinks from anyone. Welcome to Kappa Tau.”
Zeke slides his hand into his pocket and pulls out a small roll of notes. He slides five tens off and hands them to the guy.
The guy looks from Zeke to the rest of us, then pulls two tens off the pile and hands them back. “Hot girls don’t pay.”
Zeke arches a brow, then shrugs, taking the notes back and shoving them back into his pocket. He takes the red cup from the guy and steps forward and into the house. I step forward next, lifting my hand to take the cup from frat guy, but he hands me a square sealed in plastic first.
“Take this. It’s a SipChip. There’s a plastic attachment so you can stick it to your cellphone. If you open one and put some of your drink on it; it will tell you if anyone slipped anything into it. There are three in the pack, but you can buy more from student services. Kappa Tau doesn’t tolerate that kind of bullshit at our parties, but no matter how much we try to keep the kind of assholes who spike girls’ drinks out of our house, it happens. Have fun, but don’t leave your drink unattended and be careful.”
“Thank you,” I say, really meaning it. This wasn’t what I was expecting from a frat house, or from a guy who would join a frat, but so far I’m pleasantly surprised.
“I’m Van, by the way,” the guy says, with a smile that could melt panties at a hundred yards.
“Emmy,” I say, biting my bottom lip as I smile shyly back at him.
“Maybe I can find you later for a dance?” He asks.
“Maybe,” I answer, just as Griffin drops his arm over my shoulder and pulls me into him possessively.
“Wanna move it along here, shortcake? The rest of us are all waiting on you,” Griff says, his tone short and annoyed.
“Oh, sorry, sure.” Lifting my hand, I offer Van a quick wave, then step forward and into the house.
The others all take their red cups, and Van offers Nova a SipChip, but he doesn’t speak to any of the others and when I risk a glance back at him, his eyes are narrowed and his lips pursed into a straight line.
The house almost seems bigger on the inside than it did from the outside and I let Griffin lead me down the short hallway and through a doorway into the main party. We suddenly hit a wall of people. The music seems to swell and the smell of sweat, lust, and sex permeates the air.
This is hell, I think to myself as we shuffle forward into the mass of writhing bodies. Sometimes being short sucks. All I can see are the people in front of us, so I melt into Griff’s hold, letting him guide me wherever Zeke is leading us.
It feels like an eternity later that the crowd thins and we emerge into a large backyard, a firepit off to the left and several kegs lined up to the right.
“I think beer’s your only option tonight, ladies,” Zeke says with a gleeful laugh as he makes a beeline for the kegs. He waits for the handful of girls ahead of him to finish pumping their own cups, before he steps forward and starts to fill his, handing it back to us and then taking one of the empty ones to start the process all over again.
Looking to Nova, I see her eyes are wide and she’s leaning against Valentine like he’s the only thing keeping her upright. “Are you okay? Do you want to go?” I ask her.
She shakes her head, lifting her cup to her lips and sipping. Her chest visibly rises and falls as she sucks in a deep inhale. “I’m okay. I just need a minute, there are a lot of people.”
The guys chat back and forth as I watch Nova. She gradually relaxes, standing more upright and less dependent on Valentine. When her cup is empty, she moves to the keg and pumps herself another cup, skipping back to us, a genuine smile gracing her lips.
“Okay, I’m ready to dance now. Em, come on there’s a dance floor inside,” she says, her voice strong and confident.
“You want to go back inside?” I ask, glancing horrified at the mass of p
eople still squashed inside the house.
“Yep, and you’re coming with me.”
Ignoring my protests, she grabs my arm and pulls me toward the door we exited out of earlier. She drags me behind her as she pushes her way through the throngs of people until we hit the makeshift dance floor, which is really just the living room, with the furniture pushed to the side.
Girls fill the space, some laughing and dancing with their friends, others putting on a show for the guys that circle the small area. I simultaneously feel both under and over-dressed. My eyes fall on a girl who is only wearing a bikini top and bootie shorts, grinding against another girl who is in a dress so short and tight I can see everything she has to offer.
Considering my dad is an honest to goodness biker, and I’m not naïve enough to be oblivious to the ‘club girls’ who hang out at the clubhouse to entertain the single members, I’m surprised to find myself a little scandalized with the way these girls are dressed and behaving.
It’s not the pseudo lesbian show they’re putting on, per se, but for some reason I wasn’t expecting them to be so obvious. The thought makes me feel young and inexperienced. Maybe if I’d attended more high school parties, I’d be more prepared.
Nova pulls me onto the dance floor, throwing her arms into the air and swaying her hips to the music. I take another look around me, then lift my cup to my lips and take a long pull before I throw my hands up, close my eyes and start to dance.
The music invades my senses and I lose myself to the rhythm. I might not be a fan of parties, but I’ve always loved to dance. The song changes, but I don’t stop moving, smiling and laughing with Nova as she twirls around me.
When I feel someone step up behind me, I expect to turn around and find Zeke or Griff, but instead I find Van, the guy from earlier. He smiles at me as he steps closer, his back meeting my chest, his arms moving around me, holding me loosely.
I freeze for a moment, looking forward and meeting Nova’s excited eyes. “Oh my god,” she mouths, nodding and urging me to dance. So I do. I don’t grind back against Van, but I dance with my body pressed against his, his arm wrapped around my waist, his thumb rubbing circles against the bare skin of my stomach.
For the length of a song, all I can think about is the cute guy dancing with me until he’s ripped away and three huge, angry looking Scions take his place, surrounding me and forcing me from the happy little bubble I was basking in.
“What the hell?” I cry, when Van’s arm is literally ripped from mine and cold air replaces the warmth of his body.
“What the fuck, Emmy? Who the hell is this guy? And why are you letting him grind all up against you?” Griff cries, his tone laced with indignant anger.
Anger swirls through me and I spin around to glare at him. “Fuck you, Griff. He wasn’t grinding on me, we were dancing, and what the hell does that have to do with you anyway?”
Griff’s eyes widen before they narrow perceptively, his brows furrowing, his lips falling into an angry straight line. “What does it have to do with me?” He seethes.
“Yes, what does it have to do with you? I wasn’t doing anything wrong. I wasn’t doing anything inappropriate. I was dancing. PG13 dancing with a guy. So, I’ll ask again, what the hell does it have to do with you?”
Griff steps toward me menacingly, but he doesn’t frighten me. I’ve known him my entire life. He would never, ever hurt me, no matter how angry or ridiculous he’s being.
“Hey, dude, calm down. I didn’t know she was your girl, chill,” Van says, stepping in between Griff and me, his hands raised up in a conciliatory gesture.
Griff growls, honest to goodness growls at Van and I swear I see steam burst from his ears. “She’s not my girl, but I will beat the ever loving shit out of you if I see you touching her again.”
I open my mouth to argue, but before I can, Zeke wraps his arms around me and lifts me up, swinging me to the side away from an angry, posturing Griff and a confused looking Van.
“Griff,” Zeke says, the single word a warning.
Griff’s attention spins our way, his eyes calming slightly when he sees me in Zeke’s arms. “What?” He cries. “If anyone should be—”
“Enough,” Zeke snaps, silencing whatever Griff was about to say. “Parties over, let’s go.”
Griff physically seethes, his shoulders rising and falling with each angry breath he takes. I half expect him to turn back to Van, but instead he nods his head, purses his lips, then turns and heads for the front door.
Nova and an assessing Valentine follow behind him, leaving just me, Zeke, and a thoroughly bewildered looking Van behind.
Van looks at me, his brow furrowed. I shrug at him, not sure how, or what I could possibly say that would explain the madness that just happened. Before I get a chance to say anything, Zeke gently pushes me behind him, leans in and speaks into Van’s ear.
Van listens, pulling back from Zeke, his brow arched slightly. Then he nods, his eyes not looking at me as he turns and walks away.
Zeke looks to me, a triumphant smile on his lips, as he curls his arm over my shoulders and guides me through the crowd who instinctively part, moving out of our way as we head for the exit.
As we emerge from the Kappa Tau house, I spot the others huddled together on the sidewalk, Nova talking animatedly with her hands to Griff, who looks tense and angry, his attention barely on her. As we cross the street, Nova’s hands drop to her sides and she smiles at me as we approach.
I ignore her, shrugging off Zeke’s arm as I march straight over to Griff. Without pausing, I step up to him, curl my fingers into a fist and punch him in the face. His head barely even snaps back with the force of my punch, but I don’t wait for his reaction. I just walk away, wiggling my fingers surreptitiously at the pain in my hand.
I don’t look back. I don’t wait to see if they follow behind me. I know they will, but right now I’m just too angry to care. How dare Griff behave that way? Like I’m his old lady or his property. It doesn’t take a genius to know this is my dad’s doing. He will have threatened the guys, tasked them to keep me safe, to keep me away from boys, and used their prospect status as incentive to get what he wants.
Right now, I don’t care. All I know is that one of my best friends just embarrassed the hell out of me at my very first college party and I doubt for a single moment that what I wanted or what I was feeling even crossed his mind.
Nova is the first to catch up to me, her heels clipping along the sidewalk as she keeps pace. She doesn’t say a word, just takes my hand and walks beside me. Right now, her silent solidarity is exactly what I need and I squeeze her fingers tightly, to thank her for being my friend, for being here for me and doing the perfect thing right this moment.
It doesn’t take long to walk home and I sullenly ignore all three guys as I wait for Zeke to open the front door. Brushing past him, I stomp up to my room, slamming my door before I strip out of my clothes, the beautiful outfit marred by Griff’s dickish behavior.
Wrapping myself in my robe, I stomp into the bathroom, turning the shower to scolding hot, before I step inside and try to wash away all of the embarrassment of the night. Twenty minutes later, the shower has started to cool and I don’t feel a moments remorse at using all the hot water as I dry myself off and wrap my robe around my slightly damp skin.
I’d hoped that a shower would cool some of my anger, but I’m still as furious as I was when I walked into the house. When I push back into my bedroom, I find Griff laying on my bed. “Get out of my room,” I hiss, angrily pulling a pair of shorts and a tank from my drawers.
“Emmy,” Griff says, his voice coaxing, but I don’t want to be coaxed, or soothed.
“I need to get dressed,” I hiss. “Unless you want to see me naked, I suggest you leave.”
Griff pauses for a moment, then slowly climbs off my bed and leaves, closing my door behind him.
Dropping my robe to the floor, I pull on my pj’s, brush my hair out and twist it into a messy braid
before I climb into bed, so angry that I know, unless I calm down, I won’t sleep tonight.
When my door cautiously pushes open fifteen minutes later, I tense, not wanting to deal with my caveman best friend or his stupid excuses. Griff pokes his head around the door, his eyes shut. “You decent?” he asks.
“Yeah,” I say, resigned to having to talk to him and listen to him try to justify his behavior.
“Can I come in?”
“Will you go away if I say no?”
“Probably not,” he admits, his lips curling into a wry smile.
“Fine,” I say, sighing loudly.
He slowly moves into my room, silently shutting the door behind him. As he pads toward my bed, I realize that he’s gotten changed too and is only wearing thin athletic shorts and a muscle shirt that drops so low beneath his arms, that his pecs and abs are visible.
He climbs onto my bed, making the mattress dip beneath his weight, then lies down on his side, looking at me. “Emmy,” he says.
“I don’t want to hear it, Griff. You were was a dick tonight. I’m not a child and I’m not your old lady. There’s no other situation where the way you behaved tonight would be acceptable. I wasn’t doing anything wrong and neither was Van. We were dancing, that’s it, not even suggestively dancing, just PG13, middle school dancing. You were so far out of line. I’m mortified. More embarrassed than I’ve ever been in my entire life and you caused it.”
“There was nothing middle school about the way he was touching you, Em, or the way he was looking at you,” Griff growls.
“If you’re going to start again, you can get out. I’ve had just about enough macho biker bullshit tonight. You guys pull this shit and you wonder why I was planning to run as far away as possible from this caveman, chauvinistic asshattery.”
“Shortcake,” Griff says and I can feel the warning in his voice, but I’ve had enough.
“No, Griff, fuck this. You guys run around screwing anything with a pussy and no one says a word. I dance with a guy, once, fully dressed, and all hell breaks loose. Well no. I refuse to put up with this double standard. If you guys keep it up, I’ll transfer. I’ll leave and I won’t tell any of you where I’m going. Nova is fucking Valentine in the same house we’re all living in and you don’t say a thing, even though you know Uncle Echo wants her to sleep in a separate room to him. But with me you all become my fucking prison wardens. I am not a fucking idiot. I’m not a child and I refuse to let any of you treat me like that. Just go, Griff, I’m too angry to deal with this now.”