Chapter 6 – Kat
SIX
KAT
“Have you seen my pink liquid lipstick?” Jenna’s voice carries from our shared bathroom with a franticness the situation doesn’t call for. We’ve been trying to get out the door for half an hour, but Jenna’s nervous energy keeps pulling us back inside.
I gnaw at my thumbnail as I stare down at my phone, sitting on the floor in front of my full-body mirror, scrolling through the pixelated photos from last semester littering my photo gallery. A short video of Jenna doing a keg stand during a homecoming weekend Kegs and Eggs party last year pulls a chuckle from my lungs.
Without looking up from my phone, I yell, “Didn’t you have it last night?”
I remember because we both wore the lipstick and Jenna threw it in her crossbody bag for us to touch up throughout the night. It proved to be ineffective, though, as Jenna quickly disappeared from the party. Therefore, I was left walking back to our dorm with the worst butthole lips in existence .
Absolutely no one likes butthole lips.
“Oh shit, you’re right!” Jenna says excitedly as she steps into my room, wearing a romper and white sneakers.
I’m so glad we abandoned the idea of wearing heels out after freshman year. Was it cute? For sure. Did it hurt worse than period cramps? Pretty damn close.
Jenna pulls the sleek tube of pink out of her bag and stands behind me, applying the bright hue with precision. The color has always looked incredible on her, the vibrant shade causing the golden strands of color in her eyes to become more obvious.
“Do you want some?” She holds out the tube, gesturing for me to take it.
“No, I think I’m going to just wear a clear gloss tonight.”
“Planning on making out with someone, are we?” She smiles from ear to ear. I should be asking why she’s choosing to wear a bright pink lip that is only moderately transfer-proof, but I resist the question.
“Doesn’t hurt to be prepared,” I say as I bite back a grin. Truth be told, I’m hopeful.
Everything from before is hazy. The longer I’m present, the harder it becomes to remember details. I remember that I meet Elijah tonight, but outside of that, everything is a blur.
Will I eventually forget the future completely? I hope not. I want that knowledge.
“Oh my god, you met a guy!” Jenna squeals.
How do I tell her I haven’t met a guy, but I will meet a guy? That today is the last day I’ll be this person?
Tonight I don’t just meet a guy. I meet the guy. The one that changes everything.
The kind of love that they write sonnets about; the kind of love that consumes you so much that you’d do anything to hold it in your fingers.
Elijah Hanas, my person.
“No…but I’m hoping to.”
She doesn’t appear convinced, but as she shrugs and turns around to grab shoes from her room, I know she accepts my answer.
We take the elevator down to the main floor of McDowell Hall, not wanting to walk any more than we already have to with the impending trek across campus. Deciding to live in the Twin Towers—which is just a shorthand way of referring to Beall and McDowell Halls—was a choice made based on one thing. It’s not the fanciest dorm on campus, nor the most conveniently placed—it’s not even the cheapest—but they are the only two dorm buildings on campus in which upperclassmen can have alcohol in their room.
We venture out into the still-humid late summer air and instantly pass a group of freshman girls, who are no doubt also walking to a party. The difference is, while Jenna and I are wearing more reasonable shoes, they’re all wearing heels. They’ll learn by second semester. We all have to do it; builds character.
“Cute dress!” Jenna says with a smile to a girl wearing a blue minidress with a cutout under the bust.
“Thanks!” The nameless girl looks down at her dress, her self-conscious slouch straightening with confidence.
Jenna has a way of doing that—making you feel confident with a few short words.
As we approach the Kent State fountain, the sound of splashing water grows louder. We see a young man, wearing an oversized T-shirt with Greek letters that are barely legible, stumbling through the knee-deep water.
Jenna calls out to him from a safe distance, her voice laced with amusement and concern. “It’s a bit early to be that drunk, don’t you think?”
The guy scoffs and attempts to climb out of the fountain, but his movements are unsteady and comical. His words come out slurred as he denies being drunk, only to be interrupted by a loud belch.
“All right, big guy, you’re not drunk.”
This seems to appease him, his bloodshot eyes squinting and crinkling at the corners. Pride radiates off him like heat from a fire as he believes he’s successfully deceived us.
Drunk guys are weird.
We continue walking.
“Do you plan on seeing Marcus tonight?” I ask.
Jenna tries to play it cool, but she’s never been great at playing anything cool. “Maybe,” she sighs before allowing herself to express what she’s really thinking. “He texted me twenty minutes ago. He’s going to be at the Lambda party!”
The squeal she expels would be irritating if I wasn’t so damn happy for her.
“He seems like a really good guy.” Truth be told, I shouldn’t know that. Actually, I’m not sure I do know that at this point. Everything is such a blur.
“Isn’t he?!”
The group of freshmen from before manages to catch up with us and we watch as they huddle together, doing a terrible job of stashing the flasks they have tucked in their necklines.
“Freshman year feels like eons ago, doesn’t it?” Jenna seems almost…reminiscent .
I can’t help but laugh at her words, because that is the understatement of the year. “You have no idea.”
Though it was supposed to be a closed party, we can see the house is filled with bodies from wall to wall. The brother manning the door is being loose with the list in his hand.
“Name?”
“Jenna Hannover and Kat Marritt.”
I guess Jenna gave Marcus our names to add to the list. The guy seems pleased, but something tells me he’s letting in any girl he deems minorly appealing anyway.
Lambda Rho has been my and Jenna’s go-to place when we go out since the middle of our freshman year. It can be chaotic on a party night, but we feel comfortable here. How we went two years without meeting the guys, I don’t know.
As if he can hear my thoughts, Marcus arrives by Jenna’s side, slinging his arm around the back of her neck and pulling her into a hug.
Jenna melts into him with ease and little concern for the chaos surrounding them. She lifts onto her toes and presses a kiss to Marcus’s cheek, then whispers something to him—knowing Jenna, I probably don’t want to know what.
“I’m going to go grab a drink,” I yell over the music, wanting to give them privacy but also genuinely wanting a drink.
The bass from the stereo nearly shakes the room as the guy behind the DJ table works to keep the energy up. The party is mostly centered around the spacious living room with a vaulted ceiling. People stand shoulder-to-shoulder as they chat amongst themselves, making it nearly impossible to locate a beverage.
After searching for what feels like forever, I find the kitchen. I groan when I realize that this isn’t a regular old keg party. Where I was hoping to find a big metal barrel, there is something else—in the place of the designated keg is a large storage container filled to the brim with a mystery beverage. The smell of alcohol mixed with fruit juices and pop wafts through the air, indicating that this party will be one wild night.
Jungle Juice.
Equal parts gross and effective.
“Can I buy you a drink?” An all-too-familiar voice carries from behind me. Instantly, it makes me smile.
I roll my eyes, turning around to find Tanner grinning down at me. “The drinks are free.”
“Fine, if you want to be, like, a scientist about it.” He chuckles as he snatches two red plastic cups from the stool beside the transparent container, which is filled almost to the brim with the unknown red liquid. He holds it out to me, seemingly posing a question.
“Sure, why the hell not?” I chuckle.
He holds our cups and dips them into the murky liquid before handing me the cleaner-looking one. I watch in disgust as he casually plucks a fruit fly out of his cup and flicks it to the side. My face scrunches up in revulsion at the sight.
“What? Extra protein.”
“You’re gross,” I respond with a laugh.
“You wound me.” He grins as he lifts the cup to his lips. “So, you’re Jenna’s roommate, eh?”
“Are you Marcus’s?”
“Oh, ha—no. Marcus doesn’t have roommates. Too dedicated to school. I live in the house,” Tanner says as he waves his hands around. “Everything the light touches is mine.”
“Did you just quote The Lion King ?”
“Oh please, it was a paraphrase. It would be absurd to quote The Lion King to a cute girl on our first date.”
My brows raise nearly to my hairline at his words. “Date, huh?”
“If you want it to be.”
“I’m not looking for anything right now,” I respond awkwardly. It’s not not a lie; it’s a partial truth at best. I’m not looking, because I’m about to find it.
It’s not that I don’t find Tanner attractive. Hell, for a brief moment I find myself considering his words. However, it would be a waste of time.
It’s Elijah—it has to be Elijah.
“I hear ya,” Tanner says before swallowing another sip of Jungle Juice. “Friends, then?”
“Friends.”
“Well, friend…how is your night?”
“We just got here. Jenna and me, I mean. She—” I nod my head in her direction, finding her pressed up against a wall with Marcus’s tongue down her throat. “—is busy, apparently.” I chuckle as I scratch the back of my neck.
Tanner’s eyes follow my gaze, and a much more boisterous laugh escapes him at the sight.
“Classy.”
At first I think it’s Tanner responding, but my heart instantly crawls up into my throat as my eyes venture upward. Instead of Tanner’s adorable green eyes, I am met with dark, piercing eyes and a cocky smirk.
Elijah .
My heart races as he extends his hand. I shake it, feeling a jolt of electricity at the simple contact.
“I don’t believe we’ve met. I’m Elijah,” he introduces himself confidently.
His strong grip makes me feel off-balance, like my whole world is tipping toward him. My stomach is swarmed instantly by a kaleidoscope of butterflies, the tiny wings pushing me closer and closer to vomiting.
Or maybe that’s the Jungle Juice—it’s hard to tell.
“And you are?” Elijah’s grin lingers on his lips, but his eyes are filled with confusion.
I stand there, his hand still in mine, but words escape me. “Huh?”
“I didn’t get your name.” He nearly has to yell over the music as he leans toward me, the familiar tropical yet musky scent of his cologne filling the air around me.
“Kat—Katarina. Katarina is my name, but people call me Kat.” My anxiety spills out as I stumble over my words.
“Nice to meet you…Kat, Katarina.”
On instinct I think to correct him, then notice the amused expression on his lips. He finds my nervousness entertaining.
“Nice to meet you too.”
I don’t miss the way his hand is still holding onto mine.