Chapter 19 Shane #2
Drinking and partying when I’m like this is usually the worst thing I can do, but sitting in my room and drowning myself in sorrow and memories until I can fall into a medicated sleep isn’t helping either.
At least this way I can get fucked up and escape reality for a while.
Hopefully I don’t do anything I’ll regret later.
“Shane!” a round of voices shout as I step into Paxton’s room.
Our dorms at Silvercrest are massive, but the twenty or so people crammed into the space make this one feel small.
“He’s here!” Paxton announces and raises his glass with enthusiasm, splashing some of the dark amber liquid over the side and onto his hand.
“I’m here,” I say, putting on my best “I don’t give a fuck about anything” face, and close the door behind me.
“What’s your poison?” Dan asks, holding up two bottles.
From what I can tell, one of them is Goldschlager, and the other looks like either bourbon or whiskey.
“Whichever is the strongest.”
There’s a round of cheers, and Dan puts the bottles back on the coffee table and picks up one of the many others littering the surface.
“You want soda or juice as a mix?” he asks.
“Dealer’s choice.”
He grins and flicks his gaze to Cody. “Grab me a glass and the cranberry juice.”
“Do I look like your bar maiden?” Cody grumbles but gets up from the ridiculous settees we all have in our rooms.
“Don’t go giving our future leader any ideas,” Paxton says with a laugh and takes a sip of his drink. “Otherwise he’ll have all of us dressed up in Oktoberfest costumes next year.” He pantomimes having a pair of large breasts. “You know the ones.”
“Yeah, I’m not putting on anything like that,” Cody scoffs, an empty glass in one hand and a bottle of juice in the other. “Doesn’t matter who orders it. I’m not gonna do it.”
“Look at Mr. Brave over here,” Anthony, Paxton’s roommate and one of my casual friends, says with a laugh. “Like you wouldn’t shit your pants and instantly obey if Killian or the twins told you to put on a bar maiden costume.”
“I wouldn’t!” he insists, handing the glass and juice to Dan.
“Liar,” Dan says as he pours a healthy amount of juice into the glass. “You might have the balls to say no to Shane because, no offense, bro, but you’re like, the least scary person ever.” He flicks his gaze to me and recaps the juice.
“None taken,” I say dryly.
“But if Killian or the twins told you to take a dump and make a pie out of it, you’d ask them what temp to set the oven,” he says to Cody.
Loud, raucous laughter breaks out, but given how red Cody’s face is, and the murderous look on it, he’s less than amused.
“Maybe you would, but I have integrity.” He crosses his arms over his chest and glares at Dan.
“So was it integrity that made you literally lie down in a puddle, unprompted, I might add, during Hell Week, so Jace and Jax could walk on your back and not get their shoes wet?” I ask, adding a bit of sweetness to my tone.
“Or maybe it was your integrity that made you almost piss yourself when you thought you broke Killian’s favorite mug just before Christmas break? ”
He pins me with a glare as the guys around us guffaw with laughter.
“Here ya go,” Dan says, adding a splash of whatever’s in the bottle he’s holding to the glass of juice.
“Thank you, darlin’,” I drawl as he hands it to me, but almost drop the damn thing as my fingers close around the cool glass. Jace really is starting to rub off on me, in more ways than one.
Someone else makes a crack at Cody’s expense, and I take a gulp of my drink and try to get my thoughts off Jace as everyone starts laughing again.
I have no idea what the drink is, but the slight burn from whatever alcohol is in it is all I care about, and I down the entire thing without pausing.
“More, please.” I hold my glass out to Dan.
He takes it with a laugh. “Someone’s thirsty.”
“It’s been a week,” I say mildly as he fixes me another drink.
“Hey, Shane?”
“Yeah?” I glance over at Allen, another “friend” in the sense that he’s friends with my friends.
“If you’re gonna be one of the leaders next year, does that mean you can change the room assignments for us?
” he asks hopefully. “You name the price and I’ll pay it if you can get me a single.
” He smirks. “Living with this loser has really put a damper on my social life, if you know what I mean.” He hooks his thumb at his roommate, who’s sitting across the room and typing something into his phone.
“Trust me when I say that having a roommate isn’t your problem,” I tell him as Dan hands me a fresh drink. “But I’m happy to take your money if you can figure out a way to go back in time and become a founding legacy.”
That was probably a low blow considering I’m the only one in the room with founding legacy status, but whatever. It’s not like I’m wrong.
Allen shoots me a flat look, but a bunch of the other guys laugh, so at least my joke landed. I toast him with my drink and down the entire thing in one go again.
It’s a bit stronger than the first one, but the balance of tart juice and gentle alcohol burn makes it easy to forget why I should pace myself.
Thankfully, the door swings open, pulling everyone’s attention from me as they cheer and shout as someone walks into the room with a bag of ice under one arm and a growler of something in his other hand.
Instead of getting Dan to make me another drink, I head over to Paxton’s desk to take a look at the options.
There are the usual suspects like vodka, rum, tequila, whiskey, bourbon, and various kinds of liqueurs and schnapps, but also some sake, a few types of wine, and what looks like jungle juice.
I settle on a vodka soda and stick close to the desk because I know this won’t be my last drink before we head over to The Crypt.
The mood is light in the room, and everyone is smiling and having a great time, but the dark clouds that have been hovering over me only get heavier and harder to ignore the longer I’m there.
And it takes most of my self-control to not chug as many drinks as I need to in order to stop feeling things.
“Ready to head out?” someone asks after what feels like hours.
I look up from my drink, and the slight spin to the room and the way I sway a bit on my feet tells me my mission was accomplished. Hello Buzzville, next stop Drunktown.
I snicker at how ridiculous I’m being and shoot back the rest of my drink. I think that’s number four, but it could be my fifth.
I pause and cycle through my memories. Nope, that’s definitely the sixth.
I think.
“You good?” Paxton asks and slaps me on the shoulder.
“Right as rain, darlin’.” I motion at the door and the line of people filing through it. “Lead the way.”
The world is getting fuzzy as I follow Paxton out of his room, and I’m blissfully numb with just a hint of the giggles as we troop down the hall and to the stairs.
The cool night air helps sober me up a bit, but only enough so I can walk the mile and a half to The Crypt without tripping over anything.
Everyone is laughing and joking and making hookup predictions for the night, but I mostly tune them out. I’m here for drinks and distraction, and the last thing I’m even thinking about is hooking up.
I pause as it occurs to me that that’s weird, but whoever is behind me gives me a little push, and I start walking again.
Usually there are three things I gravitate toward when I’m like this: booze, drugs, and sex. And typically, my goal is to have all three of them at once.
Tonight I’m all about the booze and drugs, but even the thought of going through the motions and finding a girl to hook up with is about as appealing as wiping my ass with poison ivy.
“Because the idea of spending my time trying to wrangle a bunch of entitled frat boys is about as appealing as wearing a condom made of poison ivy.”
Fuck.
Why did I have to think about Jace and his stupid mouth right now?
No, not his mouth. His words.
I’m definitely not thinking about his mouth.
Or about how much I want to feel it wrapped around my dick again.
“Careful,” Dan steadies me as I trip over my feet. “You good?”
I shoot him a thumbs up, even as my mind spins with thoughts of Jace’s mouth and all the magical things he can do with it.
Why did I have to think about him now? I’ve been actively trying to not think about him since I got out of the shower earlier, where I definitely didn’t jerk off thinking about him.
Nope. I made sure I didn’t think about anything, but that didn’t stop my stupid brain from flashing images of him on his knees and staring up at me with those icy eyes when I finally came.
Shaking my head, I push those thoughts, and mental images, out of my head and glance around to orient myself.
We’re only a few minutes away. I just need to keep my mind blank until we get there, then I can drink my face off until I can’t think thoughts or feel feelings.
The Crypt comes into view as we cut through the field, and I follow the crowd as we make our way over to it.
The Crypt is just an old three-story Queen Anne-style house that was built when the school first opened and was abandoned back in the nineties.
The lore surrounding the house is a bit of a mystery.
No one really knows why it was built or what it was originally used for, but the rumors are that something bad went down there, and some students either died or were killed, and the building was subsequently abandoned.
I have no idea if the rumors are true, and it seems a bit weird that they’d abandon the house but not tear it down or make it off-limits to students if something terrible did happen in there, but the mystery around it is one of the reasons it’s so popular.
Especially during Halloween and as a hazing ritual where first-year hopefuls are tasked with spending the night locked in the house while the frat members play pranks and do their best to scare the piss out of the pledges.
And it’s the only building on campus with no visible security, cameras, or key logs, so it’s one of the few places where people feel comfortable enough to truly let go and not give a fuck about anything other than having a good time.
The house itself has been well maintained by both the school staff and the various houses and frats, and there’s an unspoken rule about cleaning up after using it that people have been good about following.
But years of parties have taken their toll on what’s left of the furniture and fixtures, and the house looks like something out of a horror movie with its chipped paint and scarred wood exterior to match its run-down insides.
It doesn’t have electricity or water, but it does have a generator, and right now, the many front-facing windows are lit up with a mix of bright lights and twinkling string lights, and the thump of music can be heard through the open door as we file inside.
It’s not nearly as busy inside as I thought it would be, and we pass little groups of people dotting the many rooms of the main floor as I follow Paxton to the back of the house to where the drinks are usually kept.