The First to Fall ⚢

𝐟𝐨𝐮𝐫 • 𝐚𝐬𝐩𝐞𝐧

When Norah was talking up this frat house so much, I didn't realize she was talking about a frat mansion.

The pool is exactly as she described—absolutely insane. It goes ten feet deep and completely wraps around the backyard, leaving enough room for an entire dorm building of students to fit inside of it. And by the time we arrive, it looks like an entire dorm building already is relaxing inside of it.

As soon as we walk through the grand back door to get into the house, the music is blaring and Norah is ready to go exploring while Opal has to hold her hand to keep her from getting too far. Immediately, I spot the giant, double-oven kitchen where some frat guys have made a makeshift bar out of the massive island in the center. Of course, "makeshift" in this case looks quite professional, actually.

Opal yells at me over the music, and I can barely hear them despite our bodies being pressed so close together because of the crowd of people drenched in neon trying to both enter and exit.

"We'll be in the front room!" Opal yells. "Can you get us some drinks?"

I nod with a grin and they tell me just to get them whatever I'm drinking, so I make my way to the kitchen, preparing myself to safely travel across a party mansion with three drinks in my hands. As soon as I arrive, there's a line of college kids waiting to get a drink from the frat guys tending the bar, and I fall in line behind the girl in front of me with short black hair and a kind of outfit that I've only ever seen ravers wear.

Then, as soon as I get comfortable, a body slides in next to mine, and part of me is shocked to see that it's Cara.

"Why aren't you with the others?" I ask without looking, my words coming out admittedly sharper than intended. "I thought you hated me."

Cara scoffs. "I don't feel like dancing yet."

"There are plenty of places to sit," I offer, though anyone can see that every seating option is currently occupied.

"You know this isn't the kind of environment I'm used to," she tells me, refusing to look in my direction either. I can tell she's already frustrated with me. "I don't feel comfortable alone and I'd rather stick with someone I know in a mansion full of strangers."

Before I can say anything else, I realize we're next in line and there's no way I can take these drinks back to the other two without a casualty, so maybe having her around to help out isn't such a bad idea.

"You want anything?" I ask her with crossed arms and a tall nose.

She observes the collection of booze on the back counter. "How much is it?"

"It's a party, not a nightclub," I tell her. "It's free."

"Just get me whatever you're getting," she finally decides as the girl in front of us moves away with two drinks in her hands. The bartender looks at us expectantly, gluing his eyes to Cara for just a second too long and making the entire encounter feel exceptionally awkward.