“Alright, children, time to head out.” Freddie stands, pulling Alex up with him. “The night isn't getting any younger.”
I check my watch. It's already past ten, and the frat houses will be in full swing by now. Tara jumps up from the couch, tugging Alfie along with her.
“Come on, let's go! I want todance. This is going to be so fun!” She's practically bouncing with excitement. My sister, the eternal optimist.
We grab our jackets. It’s still warm enough to walk, one of those perfect September nights in Colorado, where themountains are silhouetted against the starry sky and campus is alive with energy. The air has that crisp edge to it, warning of the winter to come, but for now, it's perfect.
As we spill out onto the sidewalk, I hang back slightly, watching the others walk ahead. Freddie and Alex hand in hand, Tara now on Alfie's back demanding a piggyback ride, and Ethan beside them showing something on his phone to Alfie, probably trying to convince him to take some obscure shot he read about online.
“You coming, Troy?” Tara calls back, her voice carrying in the quiet night.
“Yeah, yeah.” I jog to catch up. “Someone's gotta keep you all in line.”
The walk to frat row only takes about fifteen minutes, but it's enough time for Ethan to get us all singing some terrible pop song at the top of our lungs. Lights from the houses ahead pulse against the night sky, and the distant thump of bass grows louder with each step.
Senior year. Last first week. Last time we'll all do this together.
I push the thought away and focus on the night ahead. No point getting sentimental now. We've got a whole year of memories to make first.
Ahead of us, the Alpha Si house is already overflowing with people, red cups in hand, music blaring.
Let’s getfuckingwasted.
The party’salready in full swing by the time we arrive. Within minutes, I lose the guys when one of my course mates pulls me aside.
“Troy! Tequila time, baybay!” Jared yells, already slurring.
I force a grin. I fucking hate shots.
“Of course, my man. Let's fucking go!” I hoot, setting off a chorus of hoots from the surrounding guys.
“I knew you'd be down. Everyone is such a fucking pussy tonight—nobody wants to drink with me.” He spits into an empty cup.
I fake-laugh, say something equally douche-y in agreement. While he’s turned away, I pour him a full tequila shot and myself a glass of water. Nobody notices.
When he turns back, he frowns at my glass.
“Dude. What size do you call this?”
Before I can bullshit my way out of it, he’s already grabbing the bottle and topping up both of our shots to the brim.
Great. Fucking fantastic.
Jared disappears in search of another victim, and I finally scan the crowd.
That’s when I see her.
Delilah Greer.
I spot her from behind—neat black bob, tight jeans, and a leather jacket.
And, not to be an asshole or anything, but she has afantasticass.
How the hell did I never notice how toned she is?
Maybe because every time I was with her this summer, she was glowering at me like she was plotting my murder.
I should keep walking. Find someone who doesn’t actively loathe me.
