Chapter 32
CHARLIE
I don’t know why I decided to ask about Brooke right before we left the house. I’d sworn to myself that I wouldn’t broach the subject, and then bang, my tongue got the better of me.
He asked if I’m jealous. Of course I am. Any girl would be if Brooke had dated their boyfriend in the past. She’s a freaking cover model.
I hate that I’m feeling so insecure about myself. I’m not blind. I clean up cute. And Troy has shown me time and time again that he likes what he sees. But it still manages to get to me.
Damn it, Charlie. Shake it off. You’re Raven, the hottest sorceress in all the land.
“Our ride is here,” Troy tells me, bringing me back to the here and now.
I glance at the beer in my hand, then chug it, taking several large gulps in one go before setting the bottle back on the counter.
“Thirsty?” Troy smirks.
“Not anymore.”
The ride is short, only ten minutes. The party is being held at a frat house.
Troy told me which one, but I already forgot.
I texted Blake earlier to ask if he wanted to join us as a joke.
His reply came swiftly—a string of angry and barfing emojis.
I also extended the invite to Fred and Sylvana, but both already had plans.
It would have been nice to see familiar faces here, but on the other hand, venturing out of my comfort zone is something I have to do from time to time.
The party is already in full swing when we get there. Everyone we pass greets Troy as if he were a celebrity. It’s all high fives and shouting. People don’t seem to care that he had no part in the game’s outcome today since he didn’t play.
Despite all the attention on him, he doesn’t let go of my hand for a second, and when he stops to chat with some people, he introduces me as his girlfriend.
Not a single person mentions I’m the girl who wrote the nasty article about him.
I’m guessing no one knows or cares except Brooke and her nasty friend.
We finally reach the core of the party, the open kitchen where most of the team is gathered.
Andreas is on top of the counter with red Solo cups in both hands.
He tilts one of the cups back and then the next before he glances in our direction.
Even from where I stand, I can see his eyes are glassy.
He must have started drinking as soon as he left the stadium.
“Hallelujah, Troy Alexander is finally here. Someone give him a fucking drink already.”
Danny, the young quarterback, gets to us first. Instead of speaking to Troy, his attention is on me. “Hey, Charlie. I’m glad you could come. What do you want to drink?”
“I’ll have a beer, thanks.”
Bending over, he fishes a bottle from the cooler on the floor next to the counter. He twists the cap off before passing the bottle to me. “Here, you’d better drink the good stuff. I can’t vouch for what’s in those plastic cups.”
“I’ll have a beer too. Thanks for asking,” Troy pipes up.
“Get one yourself,” Danny replies with a good-humored laugh.
Troy shakes his head and then glances at me. “See the shit I get from this rookie here?”
Before I can reply, Troy slings his arm around Danny’s neck and brings him to the level of his right hand so he can mess with the guy’s curly hair.
“Hey, cut it out,” Danny complains.
Two of Troy’s teammates see the scene and join in the wrestling or whatever this is. I step back, not wanting to get my beer knocked out of my hand. I only stop when my back presses against the wall.
It doesn’t take long for Troy to be engulfed by his teammates, out of my reach. He hasn’t hung out with them in a while, and this is an important evening for the team. I’m fine with just watching and hoping no one bothers me.
But of course, my solitude doesn’t last long.
Wherever those guys are, a flock of giggling girls follows.
It’s easy to spot what kind of clique they belong to.
The sorority girls are all dressed to the nines as if they were going to a wedding reception instead of a football party.
They’re all wearing cocktail dresses, and their hair’s styled to perfection.
Then there are the cheerleaders, wearing jeans and sexy tops like the ones Sylvana wanted me to wear.
And finally, I see some girls who are clearly athletes judging by the confident way they move and talk.
Their attire is less sexual, and they make me look puny next to their top-notch physiques.
One of them catches me staring and walks over. She looks familiar. “Hey, I haven’t seen you at any of these parties before. I’m Vanessa.”
“Hi, Vanessa. I’m Charlie. Yeah, it’s my first time here.”
“Are you a freshman?”
“Oh no, I’m a junior. And you?”
“Sophomore. Did you go to the game?”
“Which one?”
She smiles. “The football game, obviously. No one here would ever go to one of our games.”
Finally, it dawns on me where I know her from. Ludwig has a major crush on her and keeps her picture by his desk. “You’re on the soccer team.”
“Yeah.”
Someone shrieks, drawing our attention to the noise. It’s one of the cheerleaders losing her shit over a spilled drink.
“Oh crap. Better see what my evil twin is crying about now.”
“That’s your sister?” The question slips from my mouth before I can stop it.
Vanessa gives me a pitiful smile. “Yep. Heather Castro, the Ice Queen of Rushmore, is my twin. There are worse fates; we could be identical.”
She pushes her way through the crowd to get to her sister.
I search for Troy and see he’s still busy socializing with his friends.
It’d be fine to wait for him, but my bladder has other ideas.
I shouldn’t have guzzled down all that beer before coming here.
I go in search of a bathroom, but the house is so crowded, it’s impossible to get to anything. Finally, I ask a girl next to me.
“Oh, you don’t want to use the bathroom downstairs,” she tells me. “It’s disgusting.” She staggers forward, tripping over nothing.
Great. Drunk as a skunk.
“Use the one upstairs,” a different girl chimes in. She looks more lucid, so I follow her advice.
I head for the stairs, and I’m actually surprised it’s not off-limits.
In fact, traffic is pretty heavy going up and down.
Soon I find out that there’s a second party going on in some of the rooms. Yeah, this is definitely party central.
I’m about to ask again where the damn bathroom is when I see two girls stumble out of a room.
They leave the door ajar, and with a quick peek inside, I spot the door to a bathroom.
This is someone’s bedroom, but my bladder is about to fail.
Fuck it. If they wanted to keep people out, they should have kept it locked.
I walk in, closing the door behind me, and then hurry to the bathroom.
I try not to look at anything too closely; this is a guy’s bathroom, after all, and it’s also been turned into a Grand Central Station restroom.
I pee standing up, even though it takes me ages to get it going in this position.
Guys are so fucking lucky. In moments like this, I have serious penis envy.
After a minute in a squat position that has my thighs burning, relief comes, but also the knowledge that after this first piss, I’ll need to go every fifteen minutes.
Oh joy. I should have gone straight to tequila.
I’m washing my hands when I hear a noise outside the bathroom—a drunk girl, judging by her slurred speech, and someone else. My hand is on the door handle when I hear Troy’s voice.
What the fucking hell?