Chapter Nine
Emerson
Six years ago…
“S hould I be nervous?” Clover asks as we walk up the path to the Sigma Chi brownstone, the thumping bass of the music hitting me before we even reach the front door.
“No, of course not,” I tsk, my eyes glued to the windows glowing with multi-colored lights that spill out into the night.
“But I’m not even a student here.” Clover has come to visit me at Columbia for the weekend and tonight, we are heading to a frat party.
“No one is going to ask, Clo,” I reassure her. “And if they do, we’ll just say you’re looking at transferring and checking the place out for the weekend.”
I pull her inside before she can argue with me any further. The living room is a makeshift dance floor, packed with people moving to the beat and bodies pressing in from all sides.
The air was thick with the mingling scents of sweat, beer, and a hint of smoke. In one corner, I see a makeshift bar being manned by a guy who looks like he has been mixing drinks all night. Red plastic cups are being passed around, filled with only God knows what .
Weaving through the crowd, I grab two cups for us and pass one to Clover. I take a sip, the bitter taste of cheap beer washing over my tongue. It isn’t great, but it’s all part of the experience.
In the kitchen, groups of people are huddled together, shouting over the music, and the noise is slightly more bearable.
“Let’s go check out the backyard,” I yell over the music to Clover, who nods and lets me lead her outside.
People gather around playing beer pong, their cheers and groans of disappointment punctuating the muffled noise coming from inside the house. Others lounge on worn-out patio furniture, laughing and chatting, some passing around cigarettes or joints.
“Let’s play beer pong!” Clover ushers excitedly, dragging me over to the table where a game was already in full swing.
We wait patiently, sipping the beer from our cups, and watching as players take their shots. Clover is bouncing up and down with adrenaline, waiting for our turn while I keep a watchful eye on who will be our opponent.
As we step to the table, that’s when I notice him—standing across from us with his friend, ready to play. He’s tall with a confident stance, and his eyes meet mine with a spark of interest. He has a killer smile, bright and infectious, and my heart skips a beat.
“Ready to lose?” he teases, his voice smooth and warm.
“We’ll see about that,” I reply, trying to match his playful tone.
We start the game, and every time he lands a shot, he flashes that stunning smile. It’s impossible not to be charmed, especially in my alcohol-induced state. He’s good—really good—but I manage to keep up, sinking a few shots of my own.
Clover and his friend, on the other hand, might as well not be playing. They are too busy chatting— flirting—with one another to notice neither of them have taken a shot for at least five minutes.
As the game progresses, we start teasing each other, the chemistry between us undeniable.
“You’re not making this easy,” I say after he lands another perfect shot.
“Maybe I’m just trying to impress you,” he replies with a wink and my heart flutters.
He has a laugh that is contagious, and it could be the beer talking, but I find myself inexplicably drawn to him. He has this air around him that’s charming, making me desperate to know more.
At one point, our fingers brush as we both reach for a stray ball, and there’s a brief, warm jolt at his touch. He looks at me with those captivating eyes, and I feel a rush of excitement.
As the last cup finally sunk, he raises his hands in victory, but his attention remains on me.
“Good game,” he says, stepping closer, that killer smile still in place. “You almost had me. ”
“Almost,” I laugh, feeling the warmth of his presence. “Maybe next time.”
He grins, and it feels like a promise. “I’ll hold you to that.”
Once the game ends, he introduces himself properly. His name is Miles, and suddenly, I love the name Miles.
Clover and his friend are still chatting as we move away from the table, talking about everything and nothing, but neither of us wants to leave the other just yet.
“You want to grab another drink?” he asks, and I eagerly agree.
We go inside, pushing through the crowded kitchen to the makeshift bar. He hands me a fresh cup, our fingers brushing in a way that sends a shiver down my spine.
He leads me to a quieter corner to talk, the music a distant thrum now.
He tells me about his major and his interests, making me laugh with his quick wit and charming personality. He’s two years older than me and he’s majoring in intellectual property and technology.
When I tell him I am a law student, he explains he is currently taking Columbia’s ‘Computers and the Law’ class, as he is hoping to qualify into the legal technology industry.
And I find myself amazed by how much we have in common.
As the night goes on, we dance a little, laugh a lot, and flirt shamelessly.
His smile is mesmerizing, each glance he sends my way filled with a promise of more. The party swirls around us, but it feels like we are in our own little world.
“Want to get some air?” he suggests, nodding towards the door.
I agree, and we slip outside again, the cool breeze a welcome contrast to the warmth of his presence beside me.
Clover is exactly where I left her an hour or so ago.
We walk and talk, the hours slipping by unnoticed. By the end of the night, I’m more than smitten, his killer smile firmly etched in my memory.
As we exchange numbers, he leans in close, his voice a soft murmur in my ear. “I had a great time tonight.”
So did I, Miles, so did I.