Page 6 of Lilies in Autumn

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Two and a half hours later, the three of us stand in front of the mirror, analyzing our appearances. Just like I thought, Serena looks incredible in the rich green dress, which not only compliments her small waist but makes her honeyed skin glow. Her short blonde hair is tousled and sexy, almost like she just got done with a sex marathon and threw a dress on right after. If she doesn’t have every guy drooling over her tonight, then I have no faith in the male population of this university.

Next to me, CeCe is wrapped in a square neck, white knee-length dress with a thigh-high slit. Honestly, if she makes one wrong move, everyone is seeing her vagina. CeCe’s defining features, her bright green eyes, are lined with thick, winged eyeliner, making them appear catlike, while her dark auburn hair falls in smooth waves down her back. She looks both angelic and mysterious, a lethal combination.

“Jesus, Ava, your body is unreal. Are your boobs even natural?” I glance over at Serena and laugh before looking at my reflection. My breasts, double-Ds cursed by God, are almost spilling out from my strapless, black faux-leather tube dress. I tug the material up in a failed attempt to cover more of my boobs. It’s useless; there’s barely any room to breathe in this dress, let alone adjust the basketballs attached to my chest. My dark brown hair is pulled up in a messy bun with my bangs down, framing my face.

“Unfortunately, they’re real. Now, let’s call an Uber and make our way to the pregame, it’s almost ten.”

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It took fifteen minutes for the Uber driver to show up and another ten minutes to get to the address Jordan sent. We wisely spent that time chugging tequila from plastic water bottles. Liquid courage counts for something, right?

By the time we make it to the pregame, the music is pouring out of the house, a heavy techno beat set against Birdie’s rendition of “Skinny Love.” I can see countless bodies through the front windows of the two-story colonial, dancing and drinking in the middle of the suburbs. The neighborhood looks like a typical family area—black, wrought-iron fences divide the backyards of cookie-cutter homes. Stepping out of the Uber, I look around the street at the near-identical houses surrounding the pregame house. Were these houses all college rental properties, or were these sorority girls living next to, and corrupting, the children of West Helm?

The Uber speeds away as soon as Serena steps out, nearly running over our feet. “Asshole,” CeCe mumbles under her breath.

“Was it just me, or did the car smell like beef jerky?” Serena questions.

She’s not wrong; the guy smelled like a Slim Jim. I sniff my dress, making sure that the stench of dried meat isn’t clinging to me.

Serena holds out her hand with a small tube of perfume. “Here, I brought this just in case. I sprayed myself because there is no way I’m meeting people smelling like jerky.”

“Serena, you are a goddess among mortals.” I douse myself in her light, floral perfume and then spray CeCe, because let’s face it, if one of us smells like meat, all of us do. Serena tucks the bottle back into her clutch and turns to face the house. “I can’t believe I’m here. I can’t tell you how much it means to me that you invited me tonight.”

I throw my arms around Serena and CeCe’s shoulders. “Enough with the gratitude, Serena. Now, let’s pop our college party cherries, and maybe our actual cherries, tonight.”

Serena raises a brow. “Our cherries? You’re both virgins?”

CeCe and I both laugh. CeCe shrugs her shoulders and scoffs. “Trust me, it’s not for lack of trying on our parts. With Ava’s famous lawyer parents and my cousins running interference on every date I’ve ever been on, there hasn’t been much opportunity on that front.” I roll my eyes at her explanation of my parents, though she isn’t wrong about them being well-known. Both of my parents are prosecutors and partners at Gregori, Schwartz, and Moreno, one of the largest and most selective law firms in the tri-state area. They rose to fame in the early 2000s as part of the prosecution that convicted one the country’s most prolific serial killers, The Clown Killer—a lunatic that murdered young women and carved a clown face into their faces postmortem. Their winning prosecution paved the way for book deals, television appearances, and even their true-crime podcast.

To say that my parents intimidate guys I’m interested in would be putting it mildly.

“I’m a virgin, too. Just in case you were wondering.”

“Yeah, no shit.” Serena pales. Dammit, I said that out loud. “I just meant that you’ve been in college since you were, like, five and are just turning legal now. I’d imagine that dating anyone would be virtually impossible.”

CeCe nods. “Well, as enlightening as this is, we should probably go inside before the cops get called on us for lingering on the front lawn.”

CeCe grabs our hands and leads us toward the front door.

Ava

Three things simultaneously happen when we enter the Alpha Nu house:

First, two girls squeal in greeting, asking us for our names, dorm halls, and car keys, if we have them.

The second thing I notice is that the dining room table breaks, most likely because a group of girls is dancing on top of it likeCoyote Ugly.

And, lastly, Serena hides herself behind my back muttering, “Shit, shit, shit.”

I’m trying to figure out where to direct my attention, but it’s a lot to take in. The two sorority girls win out, solely because of their proximity.

“Welcome to Alpha Nu’s first rush mixer of the semester. We’re so happy you’re here!” Between these girls and Felicity and Jordan, I can’t help but think that Alpha Nu is the extremely energized, peppy sorority on campus. Suffice it to say, not my kind of people. “I’m Lizzie and this is Katie. We’re the Membership Recruitment Chairs of Alpha Nu and just need some information before you ladies join the pregame.” Lizzie hands each of us clipboards to fill out questionnaires about ourselves. Serena’s arm sneaks out from behind my back, grabbing her clipboard, while still hiding from the room. If Lizzie and Katie notice, they don’t say anything.

I lean back, whispering to Serena, “Is there a reason you’re hiding?”

She sighs. “Do you see the girl in the purple dress by the coffee table in the living room?” I look toward a statuesque blonde in a god-awful purple sequin dress and matching heels. “Well,” Serena continues, “that’s my stepsister, Marina. She’s a freshman this year and hates me. The feeling is mutual.”

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