Page 12 of Beyond the Lines
“Look,” Mike says. “All I’m saying is that you could use some fun.”
I follow his gaze again. The blonde is pretty, I’ll give him that. And if nothing else, it looks like she’s definitely looking for some fun. But there’s something calculated about the way she keeps glancing our way, like she’s sizing us up. Like she’s hunting.
“She’s all yours,” I say.
“Your loss!” Mike calls after me.
I turn to Linc. “You mentioned something about beer?”
“Locked fridge upstairs.” Linc gestures vaguely toward the ceiling. “My buddy’s got the good stuff stashed. Come on.”
We weave through the crowd, dodging drunk freshmen and what appears to be an impromptu dance circle forming in the living room, ready to pulverize what’s left of the furniture. The stairs creak ominously under our feet—this house has absolutely seen better days.
The bedroom is surprisingly neat compared to the chaos downstairs. Linc opens a mini-fridge tucked in the corner, revealing rows of actual craft beer. I grab a bottle of local IPA, silently grateful for something that won’t make my liver cry uncle.
“See?” Linc cracks open his beer. “Not so bad, right?”
I take a sip. “The beer’s not bad. The party’s still terrible.”
“You’re just mad because you had to stop working on your art.”
“I’m mad because EDM is an affront to music everywhere.”
“Linc!” Someone calls from the ground floor. “Beer pong! We need a fourth!”
Linc’s face lights up. “Coming!” He turns to me. “You coming?”
“Hard pass.”
“Your loss.” He heads for the door, then pauses. “Try to have fun, OK? Talk to people.”
“I talk to people.”
“The team doesn’t count.” He disappears into the hallway, then calls out to me as he retreats. “Neither do classmates, professors, or your family members.”
I head outside the room and lean on the staircase landing, watching the scene below. The party’s become even more crowded, if that’s even possible. The living room is a sea of bodies moving to the beat, while clusters of people mill around the edges, shouting conversations over the music.
My attention catches on a group of freshman girls huddled together near the front door, their body language screaming discomfort. One keeps checking her phone while another fidgets with her dress, tugging the hem down. I remember that feeling—the awkward uncertainty of those first few college parties, trying to figure out where you fit in.
I’d been lucky; the hockey team had given me an instant in-group. But I still remember walking into that first party, feeling like an imposter in my skin. Then some drunk girl had stumbled out of the kitchen and promptly thrown up on my shoes.
Good times.
A commotion from the kitchen draws my attention. Some guy is projectile vomiting into a potted plant while his friends cheer him on. Classy, but at least my shoes are spared. Then I spot Mike heading upstairs, that predatory blonde from earlier in tow.
Time to make a strategic retreat.
I carry my beer downstairs and slip out the back, grateful for fresh air. The backyard is less crowded, though still dotted with small groups of people. I find a tree stump in the corner of the yard, far enough from the house that the music is muffled to a dull thud.
It’s the perfect vantage point for some quality people watching. It’s one of the better things to do at these parties, sometimes giving me inspiration for a painting or a sketch, and sometimes a good laugh.
One girl I vaguely know—Sarah? Sienna?—is having what appears to be a heated phone conversation. Her free hand slices through the air as she paces, and even from here I can see the flush of anger on her face. I assume the poor guy at the other end is having a bad night…
“No,youlisten!” she shouts into her phone. “I don’t care if she’s not as hot as I am, you shouldn’t have put your dick in her mouth!”
Trying not to laugh out loud, I take another sip of my beer, settling in for what promises to be quality entertainment. One beer, ten minutes of watching Sarah/Sienna, and then I’m out of here. But then movement near the sliding glass door catches my eye.
A girl emerges from the house, and my breath catches.
