Page 26 of Fall From Grace
Why am I going out tonight? That’s twice in less than two weeks. Once to the club, and tonight to a house party. All last year, I never went to a single party. When I hung out with Mike, we always hung in the dorm room… with Meghan.
Maybe we should’ve been going out after all—although Meghan probably would’ve tagged along, too.
God, I really was blind, wasn’t I?
“Yes, you do,” she tells me, grabbing me by the shoulders and forcing me to look her in the eyes. “You had a long week. It’s time to unwind, relax. Time to have some fun and not have a care in the world.”
“Going out and meeting strangers isn’t my idea of fun,” I mumble.
“Maybe not,” she says as she squeezes my shoulders then lets me go. “But clearly what you did in the past didn’t work out, so it’s time to turn a new leaf. Time to live a little.”
“Isn’t that what you said last week, before I hooked up with a guy who I’m going to see three times every week until the semester is over?”
“Hey, the odds of that happening were super small. This is a huge campus. There’s, what, twenty thousand students or some shit? I can’t be held accountable for that.” Sloane chuckles, while Elias rolls his eyes behind her. “Tonight isn’t a club, so there should be a different crop of boys for you to choose from—and in that dress, I bet you’ll have your choice.”
Elias mutters, “Or you don’t have to listen to Sloane at all. We don’t have to go. We could stay home—”
She holds up a hand and stops him. “He’s not a fan of… well, anybody, really. If there’s someone you shouldn’t listen to, it’s him.”
He scoffs with a frown, “As if you’re a fan of people. You hate them as much as I do.”
“People are rotten most of the time, I’ll give you that, but for someone like you—” This part is spoken to me. “—it’s different. You’re sweet. You’re a rare breed these days. You deserve to have some fun and find someone who makes you feel alive.”
It’s supposed to be a sweet reassurance, I think, but I get stuck on the rotten part. She sure does like to use that word. It’s her favorite adjective for describing shitty people.
I run my hands down my sides, lightly touching the dress. When I caught a look at myself in the mirror, I didn’t look like Wren Lyons. I looked like a different girl. A pretty girl. Someone who’s used to getting the attention of boys. For so many years, I had Mike, and he never complained that I didn’t like makeup and that I never dressed up.
Sloane’s right. This year’s motto should be: new year, new me. And this new me should have some fun, make some mistakes that I’ll look back on when I’m old and wistful and smile. Nothing so huge I’ll regret it for the rest of my life, but… I deserve to live a little. I deserve to let it go. To flirt. To give my number out to strangers. To hook up again, if I want to.
Nothing is tying me down anymore.
“All right,” I say, swallowing down any fears I may have. “Let’s do this thing.”
Sloane slips her arm through mine, and together we walk out of the house, followed shortly by Elias. Sloane must know a lot of people, or she has the right connections, because she knows exactly where to go. The Greek houses are a good ten-minute walk from where we live, and we have to cross two busy streets on the way, along with numerous side roads.
Technically, you’re not supposed to throw parties if you’re in the dorms. It’s how the Greek houses got away with it; they’re not on campus, just directly beside it. The fraternitiesand sororities are always doing something; their members are constantly handing out flyers near the union, though I never take them. Obviously, tonight will be my first frat party, and I don’t know what to expect.
I’ve seen movies and TV shows, but I don’t know how close to reality they are. Will I be overdressed? Will everyone have already decided who they want to hang out with and hook up with tonight by the time we get there? Sloane said it’s better to be late than early; the official party began an hour and a half ago, at nine.
There will be drinking. Maybe drugs. I don’t plan on partaking in either of them. If I have a cup, you can bet your butt it’ll be full of nothing but water. There are some things I still draw the line on.
I don’t understand drinking or drugs. Why would you want to lose control of yourself? Why would you want to not be inside your own head? I can’t imagine not being in control of my body, and it doesn’t sound like fun to me.
Then again, I think the same of hooking up with people you barely know. That night with Logan was… well, I had some fun, yes, but did the fun overshadow the regret? I don’t know. The orgasms were nice, at least.
The party is in full swing by the time we get there. Groups of people crowd around the house’s front porch, red plastic cups in their hands. Sloane and I walk side by side through the front door, with Elias close on our heels, the muscle to our beauty for the night. Immediately we’re greeted with the sounds of a party: loud music, laughing, shouting, the works. It looks like a table is set up in the living room, with a crowd around it, cups arranged on it. Beer pong, maybe? I wouldn’t know.
We make it to the kitchen, where we have our selection of drinks. Sloane asks, “What are you drinking tonight?”
I’m busy glancing all around, feeling so terribly out of place, that I stutter in my reply, “Uh, just… just water is fine.”
I’m pretty sure she rolls her eyes, but she takes a red cup to the sink and fills it up for me regardless, and then she hands it to me before getting her and Elias something. Tap water. Yummy.
The following hour, I get a taste of what it’s like to be the third wheel. Sloane and Elias are handsy, all over each other. Eventually they manage to claim a couch in the living room, off to the side, where Sloane hangs on his lap while they talk and watch everybody else play beer pong. I sit beside them, taking sips from my gross tap water every now and then, not thinking about anything in particular.
After a while, a guy comes and sits on the armrest of the couch next to me, sipping from his own drink—not water, if I have to guess. His hair is cut super short, not really something I find attractive, but his face is kind of cute. Not like Logan or Professor Scott, mind you, but cute enough.
“You going to play?” he asks me with a smile, gesturing toward the beer pong table in the center of the large room.
