Page 24 of Rush of Jealousy

“Oh hush. We are only a few miles away from the party. Plus, you need to rest your hand, and we both know how bad of a driver you are. And probably even more so now that you are handicapped.”

I flip her off with my good hand and glare over her comment.

“Stop making me laugh. This underwire thingy is about to pop a boob.”

She is too much sometimes. I throw my accessories into the backseat, joining her multicolored ones. I then carefully get into the passenger side and cross over with my left hand to shut the door. I cannot wait until I have full use of my right hand back.

It takes us five minutes to arrive at the frat house. It’s more like a mansion. Even with the windows up, we can hear that the party is loud and already in full swing.

“Remember, if we get separated, do not accept random cups of beverages from no-names, got it?”

I nod.

“Oh, and no trying to earn wings for the Mile High Club,” she says, giggling.

I roll my eyes and resist adding snark to her good-natured concern.

“But seriously, Angie, I know you are going to snoop around here,” she says. “I can already tell by the wire you stuffed into your bra and the recording device.”

I feel the blood leave my face. “Shit, how did you see it?” I ask, turning in the passenger seat.

“I didn’t. But you just confirmed. So yay, I win.”

I feel lightheaded. “Seriously, how did you even suspect it?”

“I saw the delivery box on our front steps yesterday, and it basically told me on the outside what you ordered,” she says with a shrug. “So, being super good at math, I added two and two together.”

“I’m only here because I want to find out what is happening to the girls.”

“And to have a tad bit of much-needed fun,” she interjects.

“Hardly likely, but sure—I will try. You know these types of parties are not my thing. This is my one shot at producing something worthwhile that can land me an internship; otherwise I settle for a career I really don’t want. It’s like everything I’ve been working toward for the past four years will be a complete washout. A waste.”

“Hun, you put this unreasonable amount of pressure and expectations on yourself. You need to stop doing that. There is nothing wrong with coming up with a Plan B that will also make you happy. What about all the other doors that can open?”

I shake my head sadly. “I’m okay with failing, Claire. I am not okay with failing because I gave up too soon.”

“Just be careful. You’ve become a bit of a danger junkie.”

I smirk. “Keeps life interesting.”

“Okay, let’s go and drink and be irresponsible. Ethan isn’t here to judge my actions, so I’m a free woman tonight.”

“Oh boy…” I groan.

“Oh yes,” she chirps. “And I plan to send him some sexy selfies later just so he can ravish me when he is done being stuck-up.”

“Drinking cheap beer and dressing in silly costumes not his scene?”

“Lame, right?”

We both slip out of the car, flashing crotches and way too much upper thigh. It is inevitable when we are both dressed like sexy sirens. The thumping of the bass is making my head throb, and I am thankful I proactively thought ahead to pop a few Motrin and a chaser pill just to help with the anxiety.

A group of guys is gathered on the front porch, blowing puffs of clouds into the air from their cigarettes—and probably a few joints. A handful have actual costumes. Some just have a scary mask or a simple printed T-shirt.

I hold my breath and follow Claire inside. The sounds of whistling and catcalls fill the air. I am sure we are above the average age in attendance—Claire working toward her master’s and me taking a year off to cope after the accident—but I find their actions extra immature. Like in a couple of years, these guys might be in charge of administering medicine or verifying structural integrity or making life decisions that can affect an entire population. Yet, here they are, smoking and drinking and making lewd comments…just because they can and just because society allows “boys to be boys” no matter the outcome.

Maybe some of my jadedness is from growing up way too fast. Maybe it is from seeing the world with a new perspective. Or maybe it has always been ingrained in me to understand that people treat me how I allow them to treat me.

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