And on the first weekend of school, no less.
People will come up with any sort of excuse to have a party and then slap a random label on it to make it sound legitimate.Welcome party, back to school party, the day ends with a ‘y’ party. As far as I could tell, they were all just different names for the same thing. Trash music, a lot of alcohol, and strangers packed into a house like sardines..
To each their own, I guess. Personally, I’d rather spend my Friday night doing just about anything else.
“I don’t know,” I admit. “Parties aren’t really my thing.”
“Aw c’mon!” She groans dramatically. “It’ll be fun!”
I open my mouth, trying to come up with a good excuse not to go, but Kaitlin barrels right over me.
“Besides, you’re literally the first friend I’ve made here. That automatically means we’re besties now.” She points at me with the pen. “And as my new best friend, I need your help finding something to wear.”
A grin spreads wide across her face.
“And who knows? Maybe there’ll be some really hot guys there. Or girls, whoever you’re into, I don’t judge.”
I giggle. “Well, I appreciate your commitment to inclusivity.”
“Absolutely. Lord knows I didn't choose to like men.”
I can’t help the laugh that bubbles out of me. Kaitlin is impossible not to like. And for being someone I just met, she is making it remarkably difficult to keep hiding inside my shell.
The truth is, parties make me nervous. And maybe it’s just past trauma, but every ‘hang out’ or party Austin used to drag me to would end up with me in tears because some kid was an asshole. Now the thought of them practically gives me hives.
I toss the idea around in my head, trying to decide if there’s any benefits to actually going to this thing, other than pleasing Kaitlin. Right now, that seems like enough. She seems super sweet, and maybe it wouldn’t be so bad having at least one friend here.
“Please.” Kaitlin drags out the word, her puppy dog eyes staring into mine.
What the hell, I guess I can give it a go.
“Alright, fine! I’ll go!”
“Yay!” She cheers as another wave of students walk through the door. “Do you have anything to wear, or should we go shopping?”
I don’t. When I moved across the country, I hardly packed anything. Then again, I barely owned anything to pack in the first place. I’m not exactly rolling in cash, but clothes are kind of a necessity, so I guess shopping wouldn’t be a terrible idea.
“We can go shopping. Um, would you happen to know of any places? I just moved here.”
Kaitlin claps with excitement, a large smile plastered across her face.
“Yes! I saw a shop when I was walking to campus earlier. It’s right up the road, and everything in the window looked super cute. I’m sure we can find something there.”
Our professor finally arrives, dropping her briefcase on her desk, signaling that class is about to start. Kailin and I try to quietly make plans to meet up after class, but she catches us and gives us a pointed look.
Quietly, we face forward once again, pretending to focus on the lecture she just started, but the weekend plans were already forming between us in silence.
The week has flownby now that I have Kaitlin to spend time with. We spent the last few days trying on so many different outfits for the party tonight, but decided it was best to wearsomething simple. We didn't want to seem overly eager at the first party of the year.
Now that Friday is finally here, we’re both standing in front of the mirror, hair curled and makeup perfected. We both have on shorts, only I’m wearing a black tube top to match my vans, and she has a rich, brown tank top that perfectly accentuates her bronze skin tone.
As we approach the party, an overwhelming sense of dread and regret washes over me. I don’t think I can actually go through with this. I shouldn’t have told Kaitlin yes. This is really out of my comfort zone.
Pulling into the driveway, the feeling intensifies as I catch a glimpse of all the discarded red solo cups and trash scattered across the yard of the three-story frat house.
Of course, it’s a fucking frat house.
Several people are outside mingling in their little groups, most of them seem drunk off their asses. A group of potheads pass around a glass bong on the side of the yard, giggling as the smoke twirls around them. They either don’t care enough to get caught, or the cops around here don’t usually patrol this side of town.
