“This man stole from you. Each of you. He pulled the money out of your pockets, your family’s pockets, your children’s dinner tables. He thought himself immune to my wrath and hidden from my eye. He was mortally incorrect.”
I straighten my collar before speaking again.
“I hope none of you find yourself in need of this lesson again.”
Ivan rises beside me, and my second and I trail out of the room, cutting a path through the stunned bodies lingering in the space.
“Get someone to come clean my carpets, please,” I mutter behind me.
Cassandra
The decrepit, broken-down staircase shakes with our weight as we ascend toward the thumping music of the house party above.
It’s been a while since Sophia and I last visited the local phenomenon of Twickham House, and all I really remember from the previous party was the searing beat in my eardrums and stumbling down these familiar, chipped steps with my best friend in hand. Good to know they’re still not interested in home improvements.
As we slip behind a slobbering couple and make our way inside, an overwhelming, thick heat attacks my senses. Not the kind that comes from a radiator in the wall, but the sweaty, choking type mixed with body odor and various perfumes flowing through the gaps between exposed breasts and damp limbs.
“You want to get drinks first? Then we can try to meet up with my lab buddies,” Sophia shouts against the curve of my ear. Still, I can barely make out her words through the cacophony of sounds vibrating alongside the beat.
“Sounds good,” I shout back, before she wraps her icy fingers around mine and pulls, weaving us through the bodies in the crowd.
I don’t really like these types of parties, mainly because college kids love to penetrate personal space—a thing I value more than pretty much anything else. When crowds close in around me, I can feel the start of one of my signature freakouts emerge: the thinning of air, a racing in my chest. Thankfully, Sophia is excellent at finding the fastest path to the most open space possible, and she never fails to make sure I’m somewhere I feel comfortable.
I look toward my thoughtful friend, who’s already gotten us free from the crowd and is currently managing her next task: procuring drinks. When I had first opened up to her about my various issues, I had been expecting to scare her off. Sure, I thought she might express some discomforting sympathy toward me, but I was sure she would never want to deal with the complications of hanging out with me or going out together. Instead, she’s been my first line of defense, always pushing me out of my comfort zone and opening me up to new experiences. So much of my progress this year has been thanks to Sophia.
I watch her lean close to the scrawny nineteen-year-old playing bartender for the evening, and I laugh to myself as the poor kid shoots heart eyes back at her, practically tripping over his own legs to make her what she asks for. He never even had a chance.
Walking over to the drink cart, I wrap my arm around Soph’s waist, settling my palm on the curve of her ass. She turns her head to kiss my cheek, playing along with our well-rehearsed escape route.
“Who’s she?” the kid asks, confusion lacing his face.
“My girlfriend,” Soph responds with an innocent smile, taking both drinks from his hand and pulling me away. We laugh as we make off with our loot and head toward the kitchen in the back, where her friends said they would be.
Sure enough, Sophia’s lab friends are all clumped together as always, passing a joint around the kitchen table while deeply invested in a gameof Go Fish. I remember a lot of them from various run-ins, but their names are kind of fuzzy in my mind.
“Hey guys!” Sophia pulls the girl closest to us into a tight hug. “You remember my friend, Cass?”
“Cassy!” The nearest girl shouts before moving to throw her arms around me, too.
Fuck. Rebecca? Renee?
“Hey... you! So great to see you again,” I say, hugging her back. When I pull away, I catch a glimpse of her pink cheeks and wide eyes, pupils stretched like round saucers.
“Looks like we have some catching up to do!” Soph laughs, pulling the joint from a nearby hand and taking a hit. I go to take a sip of my drink, but for some reason, my stomach sinks when my eyes catch on the rim of the cup, and I just settle for holding it by my side like a feral animal I’m learning to trust. The people at the table scoot down to make room for us to slide into the bench.
“Deal me in, deal me in!” Soph shouts, shaking the arm of the guy shuffling cards.
“I’ll just watch this round,” I say, sitting back against the wall.
“Ah, Cass is just trying to take notes on us all so she can pull a sneak attack in the next round.” Soph sticks out her tongue at me. I flash mine back at her.
“So, your name’s Cassy?” the rumble of a guy’s voice asks on my other side. I look over, processing his looming form and dark brown eyes. He’s one of those tall, skinny guys who reminds me a bit of a Tim Burton character, complete with the pale skin and dark circles.
“Cassandra,” I correct, extending my hand. Mom’s the only one who calls me Cassy. He wraps his large, clammy hand around mine.
“Adam,” he supplies, a smile pulling at his lips. “What’s your major?”
“Business,” I respond, glancing down at my drink again. Was it always this color? I feel like it got redder. I sneak a glance at Sophia’s, comparing the two hues with meticulous consideration.
