IT’S TIMES LIKE THESE when I wish my life had a soundtrack.
I totally need a bad ass rock chick ballad playing right now as I strut up to the Omega Chi Beta house, bottle of Maker’s in hand, looking completely unlike the normal me but in the best way possible.
When I was younger, I used to love to play dress up — it’s part of the reason I enjoyed theatre so much when I did it in high school. For a while, you get to step out of your skin and be anyone you want to be. Tonight, I’m a too-hot-to-touch vixen with a mission to prove everyone wrong.
And there’s something incredibly powerful about letting yourself be everything you’re not.
My black, strappy heels click on the sidewalk as I take my last step before pushing my way through the door, but then it’s too loud to hear my steps anymore. The house is packed, music blaring, students crammed in every open space. Hoisting the bottle of whiskey over my head, I snake my way through the crowd searching for the girls. The weird thing is, people don’t ignore me this time. In fact, it’s almost like the sea is parting as I maneuver through the crowd. Those who know who I am are staring, mouth open, while those who don’t assess me with a mixture of curiosity and desire.
I smile.
When I spot Ashlei and Bo dancing, I adjust my path and clear my throat just as I reach them, popping a hip and holding out the bottle. “Who’s up for a shot?”
It’s Ashlei who reacts first — jaw dropping, eyes bulging. “Oh. My God.”
Bo is still somewhat dancing, but she halts when she realizes it’s me. “Holy shit. Roomie?!”
I give a little twirl, letting their eyes run over my exposed skin. I wasn’t naïve enough to think I could pull this off with anything in my own closet, so I let Jess dress me before she finally gave in and went to the doctor. Even with a red, runny nose — the girl has style. I watch as Bo takes in my carefully teased hair and dramatic makeup, complete with smoky eye, winged eyeliner and bright red lips. Ashlei focuses more on the outfit — painted on black jeans ripped from the knee to the upper thigh, black sweetheart crop top and my personal favorite touch — sick black leather jacket. Black on black on black.
“Holy fuck. I kind of want to lick you. Can I lick you?” Bo asks and Ashlei smacks her arm, almost as if she wishes she was the one Bo wanted to lick. Weird. “What?! Look at her!”
“I am. Jesus, Cassie. What’s the occasion?”
Confidence is not a virtue I possess, but it’s almost like it came along with the heels and makeup tonight. I know it’ll be gone again in the morning, but I’m rocking it tonight.
Cocking a brow, I smile wider. “It’s the fucking Fratalina Wine Mixer, am I right?!”
They both throw their fists in the air and cheer.
“Fuck yeah it is!”
“Not sure if your intention was to make little boys cry tonight but if it was, you’re spot on.” Ashlei shakes her head. “You’re going to be fighting them off all night.”
I smirk. “My only goal right now is to finish this handle. You two want to help me get started?”
“You know this is a wine mixer… meaning you’re supposed to get sloshed on wine,” Ashlei points out.
Shrugging, I twist the top off the bottle and tilt it to my lips with a wink. “Whiskey works faster.”
Bo and Ashlei exchange looks as I take three hits from the bottle without flinching, even though the shit burns like hell. It’s not that I never drink, it’s just that I usually stick to a few beers. Tipsy is about as far as I’ve ever gone, but that all changes tonight.
Realizing Grayson isn’t anywhere near them as I wipe the corners of my mouth, careful not to smear my lipstick, I frown. “Did Grayson not show?”
Ashlei chews her cheek, her fingers twisting in her long blonde hair. “Sorry, Cassie. We waited an extra twenty minutes before leaving the house but we didn’t hear from him.”
My heart sinks a little. I set Grayson up to get here with Ashlei so I could finish getting ready and surprise him, too, tonight. Before the disappointment can wash in too much, I take another shot and offer the bottle to the girls, but they both decline and hold up their red plastic cups filled with white wine.
“Wine pong?” I ask, nodding toward the tables set up outside. This jacket is just as hot as it makes me look, and luckily it’s chilly outside tonight. It’s probably the last cold night we’ll have until after fall, so we might as well enjoy it.
The girls agree and we set up quickly, reeling in some random Omega Chi pledge to be my partner against Bo and Ashlei. I sink the first cup without even hitting the rim and that’s when I feel the whiskey settle in, the warmth spreading from my stomach to my toes.
I can feel it, tonight’s going to be a good night.
MATH AND SCIENCE HAVE ALWAYS been my strengths in school, which means I should have seen this coming.
Half a bottle of whiskey plus countless plastic cups of wine equals a very drunk, very smiley Cassie McBee.
Still, my makeup is holding up and I’m keeping myself together, heels and all, like a champ. The random Omega Chi pledge is actually a freshman like me. His name is Todd and we’ve been running the pong table ever since we stepped up to it. When we win our eighth straight game in a row, I climb onto the table on my knees and swing my hair around to the music, thumbing the strings of an air guitar like I’m Jimi Hendrix as the crowd gathered around us cheers.
The moment his skin touches mine, I freeze.
I don’t even have to turn around. I don’t even have to look down at the hand hooked around the crease of my elbow. I think I felt him before he even touched me, and that’s even scarier.
Slowly, I climb off the table, fixing my hair as I come face to face with deep, chocolate brown eyes — eyes that are absolutely on fire.
“What the hell are you doing?” Adam asks, scowling, his hand still on my arm. I shake it off and hang a hand on my hip.
“Running the table. Want downs on the next ass-kicking?” I try my best not to slur my words, but I’m eighty-seven percent sure I fail.
His frown deepens. “You’re drunk.”
“And youuu are a buzz kill,” I say sweetly, booping his nose with my pointer finger before prancing off to my spot behind the table.
Adam follows, hooking my arm again and pulling me away from the crowd as I protest.
“Hey!”
“You need water.”
“I’m fine,” I argue, ripping my arm from his grasp once more. This time I stand firm, crossing my arms over my chest, trying hard to focus on his slightly-blurry face. “And, once again, I need to remind you that you’re not my boyfriend. Or my father, for that matter.”
Adam sighs, pinching the bridge of his nose. “I didn’t realize I had to be either of those to care about you.”
I scoff, rolling my eyes as he lifts his to stare at me with more questions than I care to answer right now. “Whatever. Is this not enough, Adam? Am I not ring girl material yet? Want me to strip off this jacket and hold it over my head like a round three sign?”
“What are you talking about?”
“Hey, there you are.” Grayson slides up beside me, wrapping an arm around my waist and pulling me into him for a panty-melting kiss. My brain fuzzy from the alcohol, I let the kiss sink in, feeling it weakening every limb.
“You came,” I whisper against his lips.
Grayson pulls back, smiling, his blue eyes hot on mine. “I came.” Adam clears his throat and Grayson turns to shake his hand, but his other arm stays fixed around me. “Hey man, nice to see you again.”
“Likewise,” Adam says, but his eyes don’t move from where they’ve pinned me. “Cassie, please, drink some water. Just a little and I’ll leave you alone. You don’t need to be stumbling around in this with all these horny pledges around.” He gestures toward my outfit, pain etched in his forehead for reasons unbeknownst to me.
“I think she looks hot,” Grayson says, grip tightening on my hip. “And I’m pretty sure I can handle any asshole who even thinks about touching her. And I do mean any asshole.” With that last line he glares pointedly at Adam. Adam’s jaw tenses and Grayson stands taller.
And now we’re in a pissing contest.
“Grayson, can you grab me a cup of water from the kitchen? I’ll meet you in there.” I say the words softly, but it does nothing to pull his icy stare from Adam. Framing his face in my hands, I press my lips to his and make him look at me, instead. “I’m right behind you. Promise.”
With that he relaxes, kissing me back with purpose before finally letting me go and making his way inside. When my eyes find Adam again, a sharp, tiny pang shoots through my chest. Why is it so hard to breathe?
“I’ll grab a water, and then I need to get back to the table.”
I make to turn, but Adam stops me, gripping both my arms in his rough hands. “Cassie, look at me.” I don’t. Tucking my hair behind my ear, I look down at my freshly manicured toes, instead. “Look. At. Me,” he demands again, but the moment I do, I wish I wouldn’t have. I’ve never had eyes look straight through me before. Adam takes a breath, one that takes mine with it, and then he says what we both know to be true.
“This isn’t you.”
Swallowing, I stand as straight as I can. “Don’t act like you know who I am.”
“Oh, but he does?” he gestures to where Grayson just disappeared in the crowd without taking his eyes off mine. “I call bullshit.”
“Well, he doesn’t confuse me.”
“And I do?”
My ears fuzzy, I answer only the way an intoxicated, uninhibited girl can.
“No one confuses me more.”
Adam’s hands drop from my arms, and I watch as the number of questions in his eyes multiplies at my words.
“Goodnight, Adam.”
With that, I spin on my heels and walk with shaky ankles into the house, wondering if it was the leather jacket or the alcohol that gave me the balls to say what I just did. Maybe it was both.
Or maybe I had just lost the resolve to hold it back any longer.
IT’S JUST AFTER FOUR IN THE MORNING by the time Grayson and I crash through the door of his dorm room, all tangled arms and heavy breaths. The alcohol still buzzing through me intensifies every touch, every kiss, and I try as hard as I can but I can’t seem to take a full breath.
Grayson pulls me back to his room, pushing me against his door to close it behind us before dragging his tongue along the skin of my neck. I moan, tiny alarms sounding in my head to no avail — his touch is too loud for me to hear anything else.
Breaking from our kiss, Grayson leans his forehead against mine. “You are so sexy in that outfit,” he breathes and my confidence disappears, a blush breaking on my cheeks. “But I bet you can’t wait to change.”
I laugh. “These pants are the worst.”
Smirking, Grayson pushes off the door and yanks open the first drawer on his tall dresser, tossing me a pair of boxers and a t-shirt. Rolling the fabric in my hands, I chew my bottom lip, trying to decipher my next move. My hands trembling, I drop the clothes on the edge of his bed and slip out of my jacket, letting it fall to the floor where my eyes are fixed. Slowly, button by button, I undo my pants, finally finding the nerve to flick my eyes to Grayson. His blue pools are on my fingertips, nostrils flaring. When my hands find the hem of my crop top and I pull it up and over my head, my hair falling against my naked back, he pushes a long breath from his lips and squeezes his eyes shut.
“God, why do I have to be a gentleman?”
I pause, my voice just above a whisper. “What do you mean?”
Grayson opens his eyes just enough to grab the shirt and boxers on the bed and press them into my hands, covering my chest, though his hands hover there for a moment while he tries to steady his breathing. “Cassie, I want nothing more than to take you right now. Right here. In my bed, on this floor, in that shower…” he trails off, releasing his grip on the clothes to run a hand through his hair. “But you’re drunk. I’m drunk. And I don’t want my first time with you to be tainted with alcohol.”
My first instinct is to be upset, but the way he’s looking at me, blue eyes pained, heart beating hard enough for me to hear it — I know it’s as hard for him to say no as it is for me to hear it.
“My bathroom is right there,” he says, gesturing to the door behind me. “Get changed and then come back in here so I can hold you.”
My heart leaps and I smile, stepping up on my toes to kiss him quickly before escaping to the bathroom. I don’t catch my breath as I change, so when I join him again, crawling into his sheets as he turns down the lights, I feel like I may explode if he doesn’t touch me.
As if he can sense it, Grayson pulls me into him, my back against his chest, and a flash memory of being in Adam’s bed assaults me in the darkness. Twisting in his arms to face him, I shake the thought, focusing on the man with his arms around me, instead. We lie with our eyes locked, his fingers lazily tracing the hem of his boxers on my hip bone.
“I think I might really like you, Grayson Anderson,” I whisper in the darkness.
He swallows, taking his hand from my hip just long enough to run it back through my hair and pull me in for a kiss. “Likewise, Cassie McBee.”
And just like that, another player is added to the game.