Before You Go

Part 2

Before You Go

Unproductive. The word revolves in my head like a trapeze artist repeating the same routine—as deafening music—drowns out the chaotic voices of party attendees around me.

Unsurprisingly, most of the people who'd caught wind of the party are either drunk or very close to it. While a few others are tucked in a corner of the frat house, snorting and smoking who knows what.

"Here," a girl with red curls thrusts a clear plastic cup in my hands. "You look like you need it," she nods at the bluish liquid with a cherry at the bottom of the cup.

Before I can protest about having a drink being forced on me she spins away. Her face pensive and her eyes noticeably glassy as she teeters like an unbalanced top out the front door with a group of 3 guys and a girl dressed in tight jeans and a skin-tight crop top that I doubt can be considered clothing at all.

"Have I ever told you how lucky you are to have a brother that's the president of this fraternity?" Alice wraps one arm around my shoulders and takes a sip from my cup. "My genius level brain came up with this earlier today and it looks like people are loving it. Drink," she presses the cup to my lips and kisses my cheek before bouncing towards my brother who's waiting for her at the bottom of a set of stairs that lead up to the second floor of the currently packed frat house.

I roll my eyes when Luke pulls my best friend in for a kiss, his hands resting atop her butt. Unmindful of the people around them he gives her arse a light squeeze. Their make-out session quickly escalating into him trying to swallow her face.

"For fuck sake," turning away from the PG-13 couple, I catch sight of a tall figure with grey eyes standing alone at the back of the house.

Unlike the rest of the party-goers, the darkly clothed stranger doesn't have a drink in his hands. And unlike them he looks complete bored and irritated for being here in the first place.

You and me both. I sympathize with the stranger's agitation as he leans against the back door, his jaw clenching in annoyance when someone tries to talk to him.

Then, whether it's the trick of the light or the thick smell of weed getting to me, the stranger cocks his head slightly as he notices me watching him. His grey eyes making me feel like a dissectible specimen on a culture plate as they gain a glint of interest.

Walk away. Walk away. Now. My inner-voice instructs the exact moment I turn sharply to my right.

"Hey. Watch it!" Someone from behind slams into me, the force of our collision making me lose my balance.

"Sorry," I grip the drink in my hands as my eyes collide with that of a towering brunette.

Her face the definition of pissed-off.

"You little b with an itch," she swipes at a large blue stain that's soaked into the skintight white blouse she's wearing. "You ruined my favorite top," her eyes flash with an icy fire and before I can muster another apology or even back away she raises a hand aimed for my face.