Page 9 of Lilies in Autumn

I think I’ve heard Serena sigh more in the last fifteen minutes than in the entire twelve hours that I’ve known her. “That was Devin, Marina’s fuck buddy? Boyfriend? I don’t know what they are at this point.” She huffs, again. “We all grew up together. That’s how my dad and Marina’s mom met; we were childhood friends. Devin was our neighbor and would come over every day. For a while, I thought he liked me, but he started hooking up with Marina a few years ago.” She looks down at her cup, as though it will have the answers she needs. “Between Marina, Felicity, and now Devin, I just want to go home. I’m going to ask one of the sisters to bring me back to my apartment.”

“Of course, we’ll come with you,” CeCe responds. I nod my head in agreement.

“No, I’d rather just be alone right now, and I’d feel guilty if you came home with me, only to go back to your dorm room. Please, stay. I’ll text you guys when I get home.”

I look at CeCe before returning my focus to our new friend. “Serena, are you sure?”

Her weak smile guts me. “Ava, I’m sure. After the night I’ve had, the only thing I want to do is crawl into my bed.”

We walk Serena to the front door and arrange for one of the sober sisters to drive her back to her apartment on campus. The guilt I feel for letting her leave alone lessens by her insistence that she needs time to think without questions and background noise, and that she’ll meet us for brunch on Sunday to explain. By the time we say goodbye to Serena, the party is thick with bodies, sweat, and sexual tension.

Ava

“C, do you think we should have gone back with Serena? I feel so guilty that we sent her home in a car like that.” I wring my hands, guilt weighing on my mind as we watch Serena’s ride drive away.

“I’m not sure, Aves. She wanted to be alone and seemed adamant that she wanted us to stay. We can text her when we leave and see if she’s still up. Maybe we’ll swing by her apartment when we leave to check on her.”

Glancing behind me, I notice that the crowd has nearly tripled in size, with girls dancing in small groups in the center and guys watching from the perimeter. The scene reads very Animal Planet, as though these girls are performing a mating ritual and the guys are seeing which option is the best for the night. It’s performative and slightly nauseating.

“It’s like the introduction to low-budget porn, all these people standing around before they whip their clothes off and start pulling dildos out of the couch cushions.” I huff. I’m unnecessarily perturbed by this setup.

“Your porn viewing history is questionable, but I agree. I’m getting creeped out by the guy in the corner running his tongue over his teeth.” I look toward the far-right corner of the room and spot the guy in question. As though he feels my eyes on him, he turns his attention to me, looks me up and down, and proceeds to wiggle his tongue at me like a snake. The disgust must be evident on my face because his expression morphs into a sneer.

“C, let’s get out of the entryway. I feel like we’re on display here.”

CeCe and I make our way through the crowded living room that doubles as a dance floor, weaving around writhing bodies and trying not to interrupt the bizarre mating ritual around us. As we sidestep a pair of girls aggressively twerking, I realize that many of the people in the room are staring at the front door. Looking around, I see the unmistakable excitement in their eyes, as though they’re lions waiting for the perfect moment to spring forward and attack the hopeless gazelle.

Just as I turn my back to the entryway that holds the attention of the room, I feel the hair stand up on the back of my neck, and goosebumps travel down my arms and spine. Turning quickly, whiplash a guarantee, I see three guys walk over the front door’s threshold. Like gods assembled on Mount Olympus, they survey the party, while the party surveys them.

All three are impressive; big-dick energy radiates from them. Imposing and intimidating, it’s hard to know where to look, until my eyes snag on the blue-eyed monster standing closest to the door. Tall and broad-shouldered, he has to be at least six-foot-three, with thick, corded muscles on display in his simple black T-shirt. A dead ringer for Charlie Hunnam. His blonde hair falls to his shoulders and looks like he just ran his hands through it. Or maybe someone else did?

In front of him stands two other men. One has smooth olive skin, dark hair, and brightly colored tattoos decorating his exposed arms and neck. His features hint at his Mediterranean heritage while his ink makes me think that no sane Italian grandmother would let him date her granddaughter.

Taking my eyes off my grandmother’s worst fear, I look to the third person in their group and am rendered speechless by how pretty he is. Tightly buzzed hair highlights the strong jawline, high cheekbones, and full lips of a walking Calvin Klein advertisement. His light eyes, cold and lifeless, contrast with his caramel-colored skin and give a menacing edge to his looks.

What felt like hours, but were probably only seconds, passed before the party adjusts to their presence. The three guys walk deeper into the room. My eyes follow the blonde giant, desperate for a close-up as they walk past me and CeCe. I can’t stop staring at him. Unsurprisingly, they don’t acknowledge our existence.

“You’ve got a little drool, right there,” CeCe teases, snapping me out of my obsessive ogling.

I turn to her, frazzled. “Did you see that guy? He looked like Charlie Hunnam from the Jax Teller days. I think my vagina just exploded.”

“Aves, considering that I don’t see ovaries, a labia, or cervix mixed with the grime of the floor, I’m relatively positive your woman parts are intact.” Rolling her eyes at my response to the stranger, she continues, “Come on, let’s go find something other than beer to drink.”

“Lead the way, fire crotch.”

That earns a scowl. Except for CeCe, with her elegant beauty, she just looks like a pissed-off Cabbage Patch Kid. It’s kind of funny.

“Asshole. Remember, when you eventually lock yourself out of the dorm room with nothing but your towel and shower caddy, you’re staying out there.”

“Good, I can’t wait to cause emotional scarring and trauma to the waifs on our floor when they see the stretch marks on my thighs. I wonder if they’ll bill me for their therapy?”

Bickering back and forth as we walk in the direction of the hard liquor, I almost miss the blonde stranger standing in the left corner of the room.

Leaning against the wall opposite the counter, he seems to watch all the comings and goings in the room. His black shirt stretches, almost indecently, against his chest and biceps, as if one flex would tear the fabric from his body.

Jesus, he is delicious. What I wouldn’t do to be the kind of girl that got his attention—the model-like freshmen with tits to their eyeballs and toned, flat stomachs. Instead, I’m just me. Shorter than most, with thick dark hair and an even thicker waist. My best quality is my personality, and that’s just depressing. Even my feet have extra weight on them.

“For fuck’s sake, Ava. Would you pay attention? I’ve been talking to you for the last five minutes,” CeCe hisses in my ear.

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