Peachtree Beauty

Chapter 2

Hanging up with my sister, I glance down at my outfit. My jeans are ok for a night out, but my UGG boots, heavy jacket, and sweatshirt are a hard no. I know, UGG boots aren't trendy, not even in a retro way, but they are comfy and it is cold, so trendy can suck it. I need to swing by my place and change before surprising Pete. Picking up my pace, the cold air bites at my skin, alleviating any concern I have about needing to slow my roll to avoid getting hot and gross. I let myself into the house I share with five of my sorority sisters. Unlike our official sorority house that sleeps two, sometimes three, to a room, in the satellite house we all have our own rooms.

A satellite house is basically a house where a bunch of sisters or brothers from the same sorority or fraternity live. Sometimes the satellite house serves as an alternate party place for things that are against nationals or the IFC/ISC rules. Other times it is just an abode that a bunch of people from the same house rented at some point. As the sister or brothers graduate, they pass the lease down to younger members.

The lights are on in the kitchen as I make my way through to the backstairs that lead to my room. The echoing of my footsteps through the old halls lets me know I am alone in the house. Things can get loud when you have six girls living in a house. My bag hits the floor just inside my door with a thump. I kick off my trusty UGGs as I wriggle out of my sweatshirt, only bumping into my dresser once. I haphazardly toss my top onto the bed, shaking my leg to wriggle my other boot off. With a kick I fling the furry shoe into my open closet. We don't really dress up to go out to parties and bars here; it is more of a jeans and cute top kind of crowd than a sparkly minis and sky high heels sort of thing. Having to walk everywhere in the cold while drinking brings a certain level of practicality to your outfit, I guess.

I slip on a slouchy black sweater. The neck is just big enough that as the night wears on my shoulder will make more and more of an appearance. Pete goes crazy for that. My black suede ankle boots are an obvious choice. They are cute but also won't have my feet aching at the end of the night. I reach for my powder brush, dusting loose powder over my face to camouflage the grossness of the day. I am feeling a bold look, so I tight-line the rims of my eyes with a black liner, adding smokey shadow to make their cerulean blue pop.

A couple of fresh swipes of mascara, a sweep of lip gloss, and all I need to do is run a brush through my long auburn hair and I am ready to go. Purses in bars are the worst, so I opt to slide my phone into my back pocket with my ID. The jacket I reserve for bars catches my eye. It is hanging half off my chair where I tossed it last weekend. It is kind of cold out, but I hate keeping track of a jacket when I am out. Screw it. What is the point of having a boyfriend if he can't keep you warm from the cold?

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The downside to relying on Pete's warmth is that Pete isn't with me yet. The night's blistering cold bites into my skin. I let out a curse under my breath, huddling in on myself as I make the five-block walk to Pete's. I love Worobey University, but this winter cold snap has me counting down the days until spring break. Pete is from Florida. His parents have a second place on the beach. A group of us are road tripping down to Pete's beach house for a week of sand and sun. We are really going to do spring break up right, you know, like you see in all the movies and old MTV shows where it is just coeds everywhere, drinking and living their best life.

I bought two new bikinis for the trip. Not to humble brag or anything, but they look amazing! I can't wait to see Pete's face when he sees them. I'm planning on doing a big reveal, walking out of the master bedroom in a ta-da sexy moment. We are getting the master because it is his parents' place. Pete and I are also the only couple to have a room to ourselves. That means sex is still very much on the table for us, with no risk of getting sexiled. I know that as soon as Pete sees me in those bikinis there is no way he will be able to keep his hands off of me. Not that he has much trouble in that department on a day ending in "y". The boy is insatiable. Ok, it isn't the best sex I've ever had, but it is nice to be wanted all the time. And I do mean all the time.

A large group of freshmen making their way towards the Greek area forces me to step off the sidewalk. The sight of them has me smiling. It is still too early for any of the houses to open their doors for a party, but a couple of houses might have a mixer going on tonight. I love a good mixer. I hope Joy has one scheduled before spring break. A mixer is when one sorority and one fraternity have a private social for a few hours before opening up to the rest of campus for a party. Sometimes it is just the two houses hanging out and drinking, sometimes the mixer has a theme. Either way, awesome.

Pete and I met at a mixer. Our social chair, Joy, was trying to land the social chair at Pete's frat, Pi Zeta Gamma, ΠΖΓ, so she scheduled an O Brother, Where Art Thou? mixer with them. Upon arrival at ΠΖΓ, each sister was handcuffed to a brother. Joy insisted she and Dale, the ΠΖΓ social chair, needed to be handcuffed together because as social chairs they would need to be in constant contact to ensure things ran smoothly. Within thirty minutes they were at each other's throats, and not in a oh my god I can't keep my hands off of you way, but in an if I move our cuffed hands just right I can strangle you with your own arm and then I won't end up in a real set of these things because technically you killed yourself kind of way.

Why didn't they just uncuff themselves, you ask? Because they weren't allowed to. The whole fun of the event was that you had to break yourself out of the cuffs using an assortment of random and totally not helpful tools like wooden coffee stirrers and slime. We had "prison wine", which was really just a trash can full of cheap sangria, to drink while we tried to work with our partner to achieve our freedom. The wine took the edge off the awkwardness of being handcuffed to a stranger, but it also added a certain air of urgency as the need to break the seal became a real issue. There was a hundred-dollar gift card for the winning team, so no one wanted to call uncle.

While the rest of us were drinking, Joy and Dale had to stay sober because someone needed to be responsible for getting all of us out of those handcuffs. I felt bad for Joy; I really did, but it was also ridiculously funny to watch her and Dale going at it while Joy tried to maintain a smile and a sense of all was well. It was the perfect distraction to let Pete and I laugh and get to know each other as we drank prison wine. Pete and I did not win the gift certificate. We actually ended up having to be freed as I stood next to the door to the bathroom, dancing and yelling for poor Dale to hurry with that key before I peed my pants right there in front of everyone. It was not my finest moment. Pete was still laughing when I emerged, my bladder blissfully empty. He disappeared inside, returning like a second later (seriously how do guys pee so fast) and slapped our cuffs back on me.

Pete was smart enough to get the key from Dale, so there were no near emergencies the next time I had to go. Eventually the cuffs came off, and Pete and I have been inseparable ever since. Don't worry, we kept the cuffs, and they've made a few guest appearances since we started dating at the beginning of last semester.

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