Page 25 of Rush of Jealousy

Despite there being at least six large couches circling a huge two-story great room, no one is sitting down. Coeds are standing in clusters, drinking and laughing and talking over each other. Orange and black Solo cups are sloshing over with mediocre beer and fruity mixed drinks.

We get greeted by a few classmates and acquaintances, but overall see no one we are mutual friends with.

“I feel like we are overdressed,” Claire whisper-yells into my ear.

“Ha, that says something, considering we are barely wearing clothes.”

“It’s sad that society has lost the true meaning of Halloween,” she says with a serious and thoughtful tone.

I laugh because I can’t tell if she is being sarcastic or not.

“Let’s go out back and get some liquid courage,” I suggest, pointing to where the keg is set up on a couple of cinder blocks. “But one of us has to stay semisober.”

“So three drink maximum?”

“Sure.”

We step outside into the back courtyard, where the party comes to life. Orange outdoor lights are strung up on huge poles, lighting the entire grassy plain. The drinks station is set up in the middle of the yard, surrounded by pumpkins and fake cobwebs. Several tables feature ongoing games of beer pong. Mismatched lawn chairs line the fenced border, but no one is sitting in them. Halloween music blasts through the sound system, and drunk dancing is already in full swing. Some guests must have pregamed all day, considering the party was supposed to start just an hour ago.

Claire and I blend in better with our costumes out here, and I am finally able to relax my shoulders. Nothing looks out of place. Everyone appears to be having a good time.

“You ladies look like you both could use a drink,” some dude dressed like a banana says, attempting to hand us Solo cups.

“We’ll get our own, ‘kay, thanks,” Claire chimes in, answering for the two of us. She leans into my ear. “Not even here fifteen minutes and guys are already trying to get us drunk. Like we need assistance.”

I raise my eyebrows at her. “Three drink maximum. Remember?”

She grins. “What size are the cups?”

“Normal size, Claire.” I shake my head at her.

“We both know how bad my estimation on size is. Probably has to do with the male population constantly giving me false information on what eight inches means.”

She grabs my good hand and pushes past Banana Boy, making a beeline for the keg. She grabs two clean cups from the middle of the stack and fills them up. I take a sip of the bitter amber liquid and am reminded why I hate cheap beer. It’s gross.

“Cheers to being just the two of us,” I say, smacking my cup with Claire’s.

“Cheers to making horrible decisions,” she says excitedly.

“Umm, no.” I shake my head for added emphasis.

“Starting now”—she holds her cup up into the air—“with this awful piss potion.”

“It’s horrible,” I agree, throwing some more down my throat, just to get it over with. It apparently is a rite of passage to drink disgusting beer at college parties. Despite having a slow start, we are checking a few items off our imaginary list tonight. I am already feeling a bit more relaxed and ready for some much-needed fun. “Let’s play some pong.”

“Great idea,” a male voice behind us interrupts. “And you ladies sure look amazing.”

I turn to see Bryce make his way over to us. He is dressed like a Twister game mat. “Hey Bryce,” I say cheerily, embracing him in a hug. “Nice costume too.”

“Here, take a spin,” he says, showing me the spinner. “See where you land.”

Upon inspection, I notice that about 90% of the spinner sections are green. When I find the only green dot on his body, it is straight over his crotch. “You are—”

“Genius, I know.” He has a satisfied smirk plastered across his face. “But it does feel good to be reminded now and again.”

Claire and I burst into a fit of giggles.

“You are too much.”

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