I want to hang back with Ben, find out as much information about him as I can, but Nate has other ideas. He guides me up the driveway with an authoritative hand on my back and won’t let me go. His boyfriend seems to have calmed down, so that’s one good thing at least.
It’s only once we’re all ushered inside the house by the famous Annabeth—a woman with the most pristine hair and makeup I have ever seen—that I see Ben again. He’s still lingering at the back of the group, talking to a lanky blondguy with a strong southern accent, and someone he keeps calling ‘Creg’—which I’m sure the British guy (Craig) absolutelyloves.
We’re gathered into a grand reception area with a chandelier and sweeping staircase reminiscent of the Beast’s castle inBeauty and the Beast.When everyone funnels into the hallway to get a drink as Annabeth suggests, Nate keeps me and the freshmen back.
“I know you guys are new to sorority parties,” Nate says. He’s looking at the new guys, but his gaze keeps flickering nervously back to me. “So, I just want to lay down a few ground rules.” He takes a deep breath and squares his shoulders. I try not to roll my eyes. Does he really think I don’t know how to act around women?
“No hassling the girls. You can talk to them, but if they don’t seem interested, leave them alone. No unsolicited touching—obviously. No going into rooms you haven’t been invited into. And I’d rather you didn’t hook up with someone tonight. If you like a girl and she likes you—like she makes it very clear with verbal consent—then get her phone number and take her out on a date. Okay?”
The freshmen nod vigorously, except this one guy with dark hair and thick-rimmed glasses. He doesn’t look interested in hooking up with sorority girls anyway. I’d bet one hundred euros on him having a Morrissey poster on his wall.
After a stern glance, Nate lets them go. I’m about to follow when he puts a hand on my chest. I instinctively square my shoulders. Despite the height difference, Nate doesn’t back down.Interesting.
“That speech wasn’t really meant for you, Elias,” he says. “And I know I don’t have any authority over you. You’re not in the fraternity. But I’m asking, man to man, that you don’thook up with any freshmen girls. If you have to hook up with someone, can she at least be a senior? And I’m not going to insult you with the whole consent thing, I’m sure you’re well aware.” He’s glaring now like if I’m not aware, then I’d better get aware, fast.
“Don’t worry,” I say. “I have no intention of hooking up with a sorority girl.”
He nods, his shoulders dropping with his hand.
“And I think they prefer to be referred to as women.”
Nate’s head shoots up, but I’m already walking away, a smile ghosting my lips.Too easy.
In the kitchen,I accept a cup of something handed to me by a very sweetwoman. I take a sip and almost spit it back out. Is this supposed to be beer? I keep hold of it anyway—just so no one tries to hand me another—and scope the party for someone interesting to talk to. Everywhere I look, polished guys with straight, white teeth are flirting clumsily with extremely well-dressed women. Some of the women are wearing prim dresses and have their hair straightened within an inch of its life. One woman is dressed in a pair of stylishly loose-fitting silk trousers. One’s wearing Prada reading glasses. One thing they all have in common is how well put together they are and how happy they appear to be here, drinking this piss and listening to this godawful music.
Then I spot someone leaning against a wall, looking just as annoyed as I feel. She’s drinking angrily from her red cup and glaring at anyone who comes near. Her hair is more Kate Bush than Victoria’s Secret, her outfit straight out of an Alanis Morrisette music video.
I make a beeline for her, enjoying the scowl she sends my way as I lean beside her on the wall.
I hold my cup up to her. “You like this piss?” I ask.
I feel her eyes on my cheek. Her glare burning a hole.
“What do you expect?” she asks finally. “It’s non-alcoholic.”
Non-alcoholic beer? What’s the point?
“Why are you drinking non-alcoholic beer if it tastes so terrible?”
She shrugs. “I’m hoping the placebo effect will kick in. If I’ve gotta be here, then I’d rather do it as close to shit-faced as I can.”
I turn to face her, admiring the freckles dotted along the top of her nose and her piercing green eyes.
“Before you try to hit on me, I’ve got a boyfriend. He’s a hockey player, and he’ll kick your ass if you try anything.”
From the expression on her face, she does not enjoy the grin splitting mine.
“Noted.”
She’s still squinting suspiciously at me.
“I’m gay, by the way. So don’t worry. You just seemed like the most interesting person at this party.”
I note the slightest of smiles at that, though she hides it admirably.
“Good.” She goes to take another swig of her watery—non-alcoholic—beer and realizes her cup is empty.
“Here, have mine.”
