I was in the mood for dancing. For laughing. For flirting.
Maybe Riley didn’t think that I was hot, but other guys did. It wasn’t going to hurt to look good and have a little appreciation tossed my way.
“OMG, it’s crowded here,” Robin said, her huge earrings shaking as she scanned the room for the action.
“Good.” It had taken twenty minutes to walk from my apartment to the house, since Robin was in no shape to be driving. You would have thought my buzz would have slowed since I hadn’t been able to drink since we’d left, but if anything I felt more drunk than I had when we started walking.
“Jessica!” A big, brawny guy called out, holding up his arms. “Give me some love.”
Aaron was a guy from my Dead Sea Scrolls class last semester. Like me, he was also getting a secondary degree in Religious Studies. Like me, he was also drunk.
“What’s up?” I asked, giving him the hug he was requesting.
“Want a drink?” He gestured to the toilet in the corner that had a pony keg resting on it.
The Shit Shack had gotten its name from the many toilets and plumbing fixtures left over from its former life as a shop. Now it was a dumpy college rental where a revolving door of frat guys lived, and it was notorious for killer parties.
“Sure,” I said, because my mouth was hot and dry. “This is my friend Robin.”
“Stellar.” Aaron held up his hand to Robin for a high five. She giggled and gave him one, her tiny palm swallowed by his massive one. He gave her a look of pure sexual interest and entwined his fingers around hers so they were holding hands.
She let him.
Fabulous. I was not jealous of my friend, but what was with the Robin Effect lately?
Ten minutes later, I actually was jealous. Robin and Aaron were making out and I was trying to shove myself down the narrow hallway to the back door, wanting some fresh air. My beer sloshed over the rim of my cup as someone jostled me. “Hey!”
“Sorry.” Though the guy didn’t even look remotely sorry.
I clung to the wall and checked my phone, almost dropping it. No text from Riley. That just further spurred my desire to have a good time. Fuck him. These were my classmates, and we were having fun. When a guy I vaguely knew from previous parties pulled me out into the yard where everyone was dancing, I let him. He tried to bootygrind and I laughed, pushing him away, keeping an arm’s length between us.
So he changed tactics, doing some kind of swing dancing thing, flinging me around and around in circles so that I was breathless and laughing hard.
“Dancing with the Sig Eps!” he yelled in a frat battle cry, lifting me up at the waist and spinning me around.
“Shit!” I cried out when he lost his balance and we started to slice through the crowd, beers sloshing and bodies scattering. He ended up on his ass, and I landed with a knee in his gut.
But it didn’t really hurt because I was trashed. Even seeing the other knee that had hit the hard-packed dirt now covered in blood and grass clippings, I didn’t really feel any pain. I just laughed and offered my hand to help him up off the ground. But when he stood, his own laughter died out and he shifted in front of me in a protective gesture. I glanced around his body to see why his tone had shifted and I realized that in the middle of a crowd of colorful tops on the girls and polo shirts and cargo shorts on the guys, Riley and Tyler were standing there in black T-shirts and jeans. They looked like a metal band had been dropped onto a college campus for a free concert. Riley’s shirt featured Ozzy Osbourne in his infamous bat-biting shot, and Tyler had a lock on a chain around his neck above his Metallica shirt. Neither looked like they belonged. Neither looked happy.
“Can I help you?” Frat Boy asked.
“Yes, you can,” Riley said. “You can move out of my way so I can say hello to my girlfriend.” He sounded deceptively calm. But I could see the tension in his jaw.
But I was too drunk to sense the danger. I was just stupidly, ridiculously happy to see him. I shoved around the guy and said, “Hi, honey,” and threw my arms around him, wanting a kiss.
He did kiss me, but he pulled back and met my eyes. “You’re drunk.”
“Duh.” I laughed.
“So why were you on the ground with that guy?”
“We fell dancing.” I eyed my knee with a squint. “I think I’m bleeding.”
“Yes, you are.” He took my hand firmly and turned to his brother. “Do you see anyone you know?”
“Nathan’s over there. And Bill.”
“Really?” I said, excited. “I didn’t know they were here. I should say hi!” It didn’t seem to occur to me that if Riley didn’t look at all pleased, then he probably wasn’t pleased.
I did catch on when he frowned though. “What’s the matter?” I asked, scratching his cheeks and chin, liking the feel of his beard stubble.
He sighed. “This isn’t really my scene.”
“Do you have a scene?” I asked sincerely. In my drunken state, I was just remembering him saying he didn’t really have any friends, and I felt sad about that.
The corner of his mouth lifted. “No. How much did you drink?”
“A lot of vodka cranberries. But it’s okay because I ate six peanut butter cups.”
“Oh, yeah, that will totally prevent you from getting trashed.” Riley shook his head. “Come on, let’s find Nathan. Hell, I’ll even be glad to see Nerd Boy in this crowd. I feel like I fell into a prep school. I’ve never seen so much pink cotton in my life. And I’m about to choke on the smell of wasted money.”
“There’s drunk money here?” I asked. It made sense to me.
But Riley gave a snort of laughter. “Shh, Pita, don’t talk.”
I stuck my tongue out at the back of his head as he pulled me along through the crowd. I was aware of the other partygoers blatantly staring at us, though they parted rapidly, like they didn’t want to come into contact with Riley.
My boyfriend, I mouthed to a group of girls who were looking scandalized. Then I winked.
Robin had come outside with Aaron, who didn’t seem to fear Riley. He called out to me, “Shalom, Jessica.”
“Right back at ya,” I told him with a point of my finger. Only in turning to talk to them, I didn’t notice Riley stopping. I ran into his back and bit my tongue. “Shit.”
Riley glanced back at me. “What the hell are you doing?”
“I’m walking.”
“When did you get so tall?” he asked me.
I lifted my food to show him my high-heel wedges, only I lost my balance. I would have gone down if he hadn’t grabbed me and held me upright. “Oops.”
But in the movement, I had accidentally kicked a guy standing by the garbage can filled with barf booze, the miscellaneous alcohol punch that anyone could pour in to, only the brave and stupid would drink out of. Before I could apologize, he shot me an angry look and said, “Watch it, you drunk cunt.”
“Ah!” I was stunned at his venomous dig. Normally I would have a quick comeback, but I was too drunk to be quick-witted.
But before I could do anything, Riley had dropped my hand and stepped in front of me. “Excuse me?” he asked the guy.
“You heard me,” Douche Bag said, his hair flopping in his eyes, lip in a sneer as he eyed me. “She’s a cunt.”
Then Douche Bag’s face was in the barf booze and it was Riley’s hand and arm shoving it there.
Robin screamed, and Aaron dragged me backward out of the way as there was gurgling and splashing and scuffling. Tyler was wedging himself between Riley and the guy, and he was saying urgently, “Come on, man, bad idea.”
Riley pulled the guy’s head back up and yanked him by the hair hard, tossing him to the side. Douche stumbled and sat down on the ground, swearing. “Asshole!”
“You don’t call my girlfriend a cunt,” Riley said. “You’re lucky I didn’t knock your fucking teeth out.”
“Trailer trash. She’s just slumming for a thrill, you know.”
For a second, I thought Riley was going to kick the guy in the chin with his boot, but he took a few deep breaths and clenched and unclenched his fists.