Page 62 of Royal
Rummaging in my closet, I locate a stretchy black skirt, and a cap-sleeved deep-purple top that crisscrosses over my chest and leaves my midriff bare. I shimmy into the clothing I’ve selected, then slip on the heels Freya had loaned me last weekend. I’d forgotten to return them, but I doubt she’ll complain as long as I show up tonight.
Once I’m dressed, I apply a quick smoky eye, every so often glancing in the reflection to the locked window behind me. Eyeliner. No one’s there. Mascara. Nothing out of the ordinary. Pink lip gloss. I’m fine. I’m okay.
I let out a ragged breath, staring at my reflection. I’m as put together as I ever am. It’s two minutes to ten, so if I hurry, I can walk up Greek Row with the rest of TZE. I slip my phone into a tiny black bag and sling the long strap over my head so it settles across my chest and rests on my hip. I’m ready. I think. I shake my head at myself as I leave my room. I’ll get used to this whole party thing eventually.
The girls are laughing and talking on their way out the front door, so it looks like I’m right on time. I spot Cassie and sidle up to her. “Hey, I need to ask you about something, but it can wait until after the party. Can we maybe talk tomorrow?”
“Sure. No problem.” She’s distracted, and rightfully so, as the entire sorority is scrambling to leave. “Are you looking forward to this?”
I twist my lips. “Well, there’s no bonfire smoke to send me running, so I’m hoping it’ll be a good time.” For a second time, I bring a smile to my lips.
Giving me a genuine grin in return, she pats my back. “Good. You deserve some fun. Have a few drinks. Let loose. And no, I, as TZE’s president, did not just encourage underage drinking. I’ll deny it until I’m blue in the face if you say otherwise.” She shoots me a wink, then hurries to the front of the group of girls making their way up the sidewalk.
Exactly as Samantha told me earlier, there’s no question which building is Kappa Delta Kappa. The sound punching into the night alone makes it obvious, but the place is also absolutely bursting at its seams. Rowdy drunk people flow out the front, and when we get close enough to glance between houses, the same is happening in the back. The house is like a too-full glass—once it reaches capacity, it overflows all over the lawn.
I take a deep breath as we mount the porch stairs and file inside. I know the TZE girls at this point, and, obviously, my brother. But this is much like the bonfire had been. A sea of unknown faces. At least I know Royal is bound to be here somewhere, so he won’t be able to leap out and surprise me this time. And I’m definitely not going for a little walk in the woods tonight. That fucker. If he comes near me, I’ll punch him in the junk at the first opportunity.
Shani, a sophomore in TZE, stands beside me, and she’s been nice enough this week, so I hook my hand into the crook of her elbow and whisper, “Okay, where can I get something to drink? I won’t make it tonight without a little liquid courage.”
She grins at me. “For sure. Come on, I’ll show you.” She takes me through a few rooms until we get to the kitchen area where there’s a bar set up. A tub of something that looks sickly sweet resides on the counter, a keg stands beside the island, and a plethora of bottles and mixers are scattered about. She sees me eyeing the tub with suspicion, and she laughs. “Exactly. Don’t even think about it. I don’t know where Freya went—” She stops to look around.
“Probably with Zane.” I huff out a laugh, which she returns.
“Right.” She stops to laugh and point at a couple up against the wall. “You called it. Anyway, I was going to say Freya should have already told you this shit, but always make your own drinks. You’ll be in for less trouble that way.”
The music pounds so loudly that the dude standing beside us obviously didn’t hear what Shani just said to me because he nudges my arm and tries to hand me a drink.
I look up into his face, doing a quick assessment. Drunk off his ass. Flirty. Recovering from a broken nose. I raise a brow.
“Hey, I’m Chris.” He frowns when he realizes I haven’t taken the cup from his hand. “You don’t like this? Lemme mix something for you. I’m a great bartender.”
I glance at Shani out of the corner of my eye. “Um, Chris here thinks he’s making me a drink.”
“That’d be a nope, Chris. Why don’t you roofie yourself for a change? Maybe you’ll find it fun.” She takes a step around me and shoves him by the shoulder. The dude is so drunk, he goes down like a sack of bricks. She cups her hand around her mouth and raises her voice, “Can someone take this one outside? He needs to be hosed down!”
To my utter delight, a group of young, eager guys who I’m guessing are possibly sophomores—because I can’t imagine they’d have people rushing take care of this sort of thing, not yet, anyway—show up in about two seconds flat, pick Chris up, and haul his inebriated ass out to the back patio. My mouth drops open because what ensues is utter hilarity. “Oh my god, I thought you were joking.”
Shani finishes mixing a couple of drinks, then hands me one. “Nope. Anyone gets too obnoxious or causes a problem, they get the hose.” She laughs. “So, are you ready for Bid Day on Sunday?”
I let my eyes widen playfully. “As ready as I’m going to be.”
She shoots me a wink. “Don’t worry. We’re pretty tame. Lots of mimosas and flowers and frilly tablecloths.”
“That’s a relief, honestly.” I take a sip of my drink, glancing around to see if I recognize anyone.
Lifting a hand, Shani waves to a girl on the makeshift dance floor. “I see a friend over there.” As they wave back to her, I spot none other than Emory and Benneti dancing with a redhead. Shani’s eyes follow mine and her mouth drops open. She huffs out a laugh. “Wow. I’d like to—”
“Be in the middle of that manwich.” I nod, hoping to stem the flow of drool in my mouth by taking a sip of the drink she made me. She sputters with more laughter. My eyes never leave the show of masculine energy on the dance floor as I gesture toward her friend. “Go ahead and hang with your friend. I’m going to people watch for a bit to get my bearings while I work on this drink.”
“Cool. Don’t blame you one bit for that.” Chuckling, she waves. “I’ll see you around.” Within seconds, she disappears into the crowd.
Quickly glancing around, I find a chair against the wall that must’ve been pushed out of the way to make room. I perch on the arm and slowly sip my drink as I take in every last detail of these men who have become my friends. Emory. Damn. He’s sporting a black T-shirt that emphasizes his chest and a pair of dark-wash jeans. I keep getting flashes of a silver belt buckle, too, as his hips move to the music pumping through the speakers. And Benneti—he’s no slouch, either, wearing a white tank top that’s practically molded to his body, and a lighter-wash jean.
It’s like the devil and an angel have taken control of this girl between them. She appears to be immensely enjoying her time as the inside of this hot-guy sandwich. They’re rubbing up on her from either side—Emory in front and Benneti in back. Her arms are up as she sways to the hypnotic music, her face one of pure bliss. Their hands are on her hips, but I don’t miss for a second the way Benneti’s covers Emory’s. My brow furrows as I study them further. This girl is so busy basking in the glory of being with them, she doesn’t seem to notice the heated connection in their gaze. Emory told me they both like women, but at the moment, they seem very focused on each other.
I like it. It’s hot. And I wish the girl were me. Only they’d be paying me plenty of attention, too, if I had my way. A grin creeps onto my lips at the thought of it. I take a long swallow of my drink.
As I continue to watch, the song blends from one into another, and there’s a shift to a slower, sexier rhythm, altering the way the three of them move together. I wonder who she is because it’s apparent she’s the envy of a lot of females in the room … and quite a few males as well.
