Losing Control✓ (New Adult Romance)

Chapter Eleven

Sigma Alpha Epsilon doesn't look like a fraternity house. It's a modern white home with near-invisible greek letters decorating the second story exterior. A thick path leads from the street to the front door, where two boys lean against the entrance. As I hand the taxi driver some cash, I crane my neck toward the house. It's oddly quiet, the music audible, but just barely.

I slide out of the cab and stand at the end of the walkway. One of the boys raises a hand in my direction, but I feel too awkward to return the gesture. I remain at the curb and silently check my phone. Rebecca hasn't answered any of my texts or calls. Most likely, that means her phone is on silent. A small part of me, however, fears that she has been ignoring me on purpose.

"You coming up?" asks the boy who waved. He flashes a smile and a matching pair of dimples. "We don't bite, I promise."

Again, I feel like I should respond, but I don't. Something about the greek system makes me uncomfortable, especially the frats. They seem sex-craved and heartless, too charming to be believed. I glance over my shoulder, longing for the taxi to reappear. When it doesn't, I take pseudo-confident strides to the front porch.

The waving boy asks a few questions, mostly about whether I'm already hammered, and then, he pops open the door.

"Have a good time," says the other boy. "You'll find everyone downstairs."

It seems odd to enter a house that belongs to people I've never met. The air is stagnant and smelly, about thirty times worse than my own dorm. A few people linger on the main floor, but a pulsing beat radiates from the downstairs. My heart winds up in my chest as I head down the steps, and when I reach the bottom door, it releases in a whirlwind of erratic pulses.

The music amplifies as I push into the basement, and my vision is stolen by a flashing strobe light. One moment, I am surrounded by nearly one hundred people. The next, I am alone in darkness and sound. People. Darkness. People. Darkness. I move forward like the undead, arms outstretched, legs stiff. My feet stick in puddles of beer or sweat or something undeniably gooey.

"Rebecca?" I call, but of course, she doesn't answer. Not even I hear my voice.

My fingers start to quiver as I mill my way through the crowd of grinding dancers. Every breath is a lump of clay, until soon, I'm barely breathing. I should've stayed home, should've watched the stupid movie with stupid Wesley. Sure, it would've been miserable, but it would've been better than this. Better than horny people rubbing against each other.

A hand closes over my shoulder. I scream, loud enough that a few people turn to give me cautious glances. The hand disappears from my shoulder, instead moving down to my elbow. I wriggle sideways and try to work my way back into the pulsing crowd, but the hand pulls me backward.

I finally turn, opposite arm raised in a clutched fist. But it isn't a perverted or aggressive guy, it's just Lex. He drops his hold of my arm, instantly putting both hands above his head. His mouth is moving, but it's too quiet to hear him.

"Lex," I say.

He shakes his head and points to his ear before bending down to my level.

"You scared me," I shout.

"Sorry," he says. His breath is warm on my neck, sending a tickle down the length of my spine.

"How'd you find me?" I ask.

"Your hair," he says, pointing at it. Then, he gestures toward the mob of dancers. "You wanna dance?"

I look out at the grinding girls and boys, trying to imagine myself among them. Even stranger, I try to imagine me dancing with Lex. His lean arms wrapped around my waist, my back pressed against his chest, his lips tickling my ear. It would be beautiful, even though we'd be surrounded by masses of drunken partiers. I almost say yes, almost dare to take his hand and lead him to the dance floor myself.