Chapter Three
The music was too loud. That was amongst the first things that Margie noticed and she knew it was going to be a problem for her. She’d borrowed a black chiffon cocktail dress from Claire and let her hair hang loose. The same coral lipstick as the previous day was all the makeup she was wearing. The heels she had borrowed from Claire were already proving to be difficult to walk in.
The frat house was pumping with music, nearly shaking with reverberation under her shoes as she pushed her way through the crowd. She had never been in the house before, never even been close to it. The lights were low, the music was loud and everybody was drinking. She had started to feel claustrophobic from the moment she walked into the house and, in the midst of the crowd, she now felt lost and lonely. Lance was nowhere in sight and she didn’t know any of the other people around her.
Someone shoved a plastic cup of beer towards her and she took it from them, in a daze. Margie hated beer and most other alcoholic drinks. It one of the many reasons she didn’t think there was any reason for her to go to parties.
“Excuse me!” She tapped a guy on the shoulder. He was swaying to the music with his eyes closed. She screamed at him again until he opened his eyes and smiled.
“Have you seen Lance Healy around?” she asked at the top of her lungs, and the guy, who looked slightly familiar to her, smiled.
“Of course I have. He organized this. Who are you?” he asked, grabbing her free hand and twirling her around. Margie forced herself to smile, although she could feel herself beginning to panic. It felt like she was in a small, closed space and she needed to get out.
“I’m Margie. He invited me. I was wondering where he is,” she leaned in to say in his ear. The guy laughed. His hand had crept up to her waist.
“You could check the pool. But who knows where Lance ever is?” he said wistfully, and let her go. The guy was swaying again and Margie pushed past him. She couldn’t understand what the appeal was in coming to these parties, if everyone was drunk all the time and it was impossible to have a productive conversation with anybody.
She continued making her way towards the back of the house instead. The pool sounded like a good idea. It would give her a chance to catch a breath, as well.
When she saw the glass sliding doors, a wave of relief washed over her. Finally, an opportunity to make it out and away from all the noise and the people crashing into her.
She grabbed the knob and started to gently slide the door aside, and when she looked up, she saw him.
Lance Healy was standing at the edge of the pool in a pair of cotton trunks. His bare chest and thick sculpted legs were all exposed to the world. Margie felt her breath catch in her throat. He had a half-empty bottle of beer in his hand and he was looking down, talking to two girls in the pool, their swimsuits barely visible in the water.
Margie slid the door aside and stepped out, but remained where she was. That nervous feeling crept up again at the thought of having to talk to him. He had presented her with another impediment on her path to self-confidence - his gorgeous, naked body. She could see the drops of water glistening and sliding off the muscles of his smooth back and arms. Clearly he had just stepped out of the water. His poker-straight brown hair was damp and matted at the back, swept away from his face.
As she stood staring at him, he turned and caught her eyes. With one hand he wiped his face, and with the other he waved at her.
She had no choice, he had seen her. She would have to do something.
Margie waved slowly and took a few steps in his direction.
“You made it!” he said, as she approached him.
“Of course I did. I know what is good for me,” she said with a laugh, barely able to make the words form in her mouth. Lance bent down to grab a discarded towel on the grass.
“You quote me like I’m a celebrity,” he said, throwing the towel around his shoulders. His muscles flexed, clenched and moved and Margie could feel her eyes following their every action. Lance Healy was like a work of art.
“You are one,” she managed to say, and he laughed again.
“You flatter me, Margie.” He threw his arms open to her again, and this time, she tried to hug him more confidently, instead of allowing her body to cave in and lie flat against his chest.
“You smell beautiful. What is that?” he asked, as he pulled away from her.
“Just some rose water.” Margie blushed. “My mother forced me to use it as a child, and now I can’t give it up,” she added, as Lance watched her intently.
“That’s lovely. Come, sit down with me.” He turned on his heel and led her towards the deck chairs.
She felt self-conscious, even though he was polite and attentive. Margie knew that all eyes were on her. Everybody was wondering who she was, and why Lance was even talking to her. The two girls in the pool who he was speaking to earlier were staring directly at her as she walked. She tried not to look at anyone.
“So Margie, what do you think?” he asked as they sat down on two of the chairs. He had started dabbing the towel on his hair and the back of his neck. He was so confident naked, he was showing off, in fact. Nobody had seen Margie naked. She didn’t know how she would ever deal with it.
“The music is too loud,” she said, and Lance broke into another laugh.
“I had a feeling you would say that. My ever-responsible tutor.” Lance’s focus was on her, she was the center of his attention and she could barely believe this was all happening.
“Did you get yourself a drink?” he asked, and she nodded.
“Yeah, someone handed me a cup of beer. I don’t know where I left it, though,” she said and bit her lip.
“We’ll arrange for another one, don’t worry,” Lance said, and before she could stop him, he was waving at somebody at the other end of the backyard.
“Will you get us two beers, Jim?” Lance yelled across and the guy nodded and disappeared into the house. Margie blushed. This was not the kind of atmosphere she was used to. Lance Healy was the king of his castle, other people his groupies.
“I could have gone and gotten myself one, he didn’t have to do that,” Margie said, and Lance placed a hand on her bare knee. She felt an electrical surge run down her spine.
“Jim is responsible for the alcohol. It’s kinda like his job.” Lance laughed and withdrew his hand from her knee. Margie wasn’t sure how to react to that. Was she supposed to feel elated that Lance had that kind of a relationship with his friends? She was growing increasingly uncomfortable. Lance Healy in his natural habitat was a surprise, a mixture of all the things that she had not expected him to be. Arrogant, carefree, polite and sincere all at once.
“So this is what frat parties look like?” Margie said, looking around her just as somebody flew into the pool with a splash. Lance laughed and nodded.
“Yes, exactly. Sometimes even more fun,” he said, pointing and laughing at the guy who had jumped into the pool, crashing into the two girls.
“So this is usually how you spend your Friday evenings?” Margie turned to ask him again. Lance was not looking at her anymore. He was yelling out friendly insults to his friends in the pool, and Margie tried to smile.
Did he want to talk to her anymore?
“So, I was asking…is this how you spend your Friday evenings usually?” She smiled sweetly at him, but he still hadn’t turned back to her.
“Hey, Margie. Excuse me for a second there. I’ll be right back.” Lance suddenly stood up and ran over to the pool, stretching out his arm to one of the girls who was struggling to climb out.
Margie watched as the girl grabbed on to his arm and Lance pulled. She fell on top of him, with Lance lying on the grass on his back. They were both laughing, and the girl was leaning over him, whispering into his ear.
Margie had had enough. She didn’t know what Lance wanted from her, why he had suddenly started ignoring her, or why he was flirting with other women right in front of her.
“Here’s your beer, princess.” She heard a voice and when she looked up, Jim, Lance’s friend with the alcohol, had turned up with two bottles.
“I don’t want it, thanks,” she said, with her brows crossed, and stood up from the chair. Jim shrugged and turned away from her.
Lance was still on the grass, his hands on the bare waist of the girl on top of him. She was wearing a skimpy pink two-piece and was straddling Lance as she sat over him.
Margie turned on her heel and began to walk away, towards the house again. This was a bad idea. She should not have wanted to see Lance in his usual surroundings. This was who he was in reality, the rest of it was just a fantasy. What was she even thinking? She could feel the rage rising up in her throat. In just in a matter of minutes, everything had changed for her.
“Hey! Margie! Where are you going?” She heard Lance’s voice and she turned around to look at him. Her face was a bright red, she knew that already, but she made an effort to smile anyway.
“Sorry, I have to go,” she said and waved at him. Lance pushed the girl from on top of him onto the grass and started to straighten himself up. Margie turned away and slid the glass doors open. She didn’t want to have to explain to him that she was jealous. That she thought he was interested in her, and it made her blood boil to watch him flirting with somebody else. What would he think of her if she told him that? Maybe the look on her face had already given her away.
Margie was pushing through the stream of the crowd again, the claustrophobia rising in her. She couldn’t believe she had been so stupid. Claire was right all along, Lance was nothing more than someone taking advantage of her naivety.
She felt an arm around her waist and, when she turned around, it was the same drunk guy who had directed her to the pool. He grabbed her and pressed her close to him.
“Where are you going? Come dance with me,” he said, close to her face. His breath stank of beer and Margie moved her face away.
“I don’t want to dance with you. Let me go.” She pushed against him, but his grip was strong. She didn’t know how she was going to escape him. She could feel his hands all over her and she felt like she was going to be sick.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing, Bryan? Let her go!” Lance’s voice thundered behind her and she felt the guy’s grip instantly loosen from around her.
“Hey, you okay?” Lance touched her shoulder and Margie lunged at him, wrapping her arms around his waist and burying her face in his chest. That was her first instinct, to not let go of the man she was falling in love with.