Chapter 7
SEVEN
ANNIKA
This week flew by because I am not sure how it’s already Saturday and how I’m already approaching the frat house.
We arrive an hour after Isaac says to show up to the party.
There is no way in hell that I am going to be the first one there.
Almost immediately after walking in, Chloe pulls her boyfriend, Dane, off to the side, leaving me looking like an abandoned puppy in the middle of the foyer.
Up until this moment, I was having a great time.
We spent Friday morning picking up iced chai lattes, elbows linked as we frolicked through the streets of Gaslamp, hopping between stores and gathering different clothes and accessories for our outfits.
We then spent four glorious hours today getting ready, which might seem like a lot to the average person, but this is why Chloe and I are best friends.
We both love the process of getting ready, even if it means different things to each of us.
For me, it includes two face masks, one detoxing and one hydrating, showering, and blow-drying my shoulder-length straight hair so it’s sleek and shiny.
For Chloe, it’s dancing and singing to her favorite songs and changing her outfit ten times.
Then Chloe and I sit on the floor as we do each other’s makeup.
Now, usually, I don’t approve of this. However, she begged me and said it would be fun to get out of our comfort zone.
I figured I was already stretching my comfort zone by attending this party, so why not let Chloe draw on my face?
Chloe gave me cobalt blue eyeliner to match the holographic halter top I picked up from Crossroads.
Then she drew little white daisies on either cheek.
I have to admit, I look rather cute, and it makes me want to exude the same carefreeness that Chloe wears naturally.
I drew my signature black wing on Chloe’s eyelid, then added an emerald glitter to the end of the wing.
When she opened her eyes, the glitter made the light green flecks in her blue eyes sparkle.
She pulled on a strappy black and green floral jumpsuit and slid her feet into her trusty Birkenstocks.
Shoes are always my hardest choice because I don’t have a lot of options.
We live in a small dorm room with limited space.
So I decide to follow Chloe’s suit and settle on my ol’ faithful: a pair of high-top white Converse.
It gives my blue halter top and high-waisted jean shorts a casual look.
I feel a little exposed with most of my back on display, but I layer with a lace bralette just in case anything tries to slip out.
Chloe reassures me and says I look hot, so I’m taking her word for it.
I want to look hot but also be comfortable.
My comfort left my body with Chloe as she left my side once we stepped inside the frat.
She yells to me, “I’ll meet up with you in a second!” and drags Dane with her to the study off to the left.
They are clearly on better terms after him not attending her art show.
It looks like a cozy spot to curl up with someone and suck their face, which about three other couples are already doing.
May his lips rest in peace after she’s done with him.
I thought it would just be Chloe and me, the dynamic duo, Thing One and Thing Two, dumb and dumber, the two cool rats.
But no, she brought Dane along, of course.
He gave her a million compliments when he slid into our ride-share that stopped at his apartment before coming here.
Something just seems off about him. I can’t place it.
The house looks exactly the same since the last time I was here at the beginning of the year.
A pain in my chest starts to rise as I glance up the foyer at the iron staircase.
It swirls up each of the four levels to the bedrooms and executive bedrooms, which, regrettably, I know all too well.
Before the flashbacks hit me, I swerve to the room on the left to look for Isaac.
If I make myself known within the first five minutes, then I don’t feel as bad if I ditch the party shortly after.
The living room is packed with people. College students are draped over the three large sofas surrounding a massive flat-screen, some are chatting, and others are engrossed in the soccer game on the TV.
I spot Isaac sitting at the edge of the sofa closest to the wall and head over to him.
“Well, well, well, if it isn’t lil’ Ojai Anni! Jed, you owe me twenty dollars!”
Gosh, I hate that nickname he gives me. Isaac springs up from the sofa, arms open wide as if he thinks I’m going to greet him with a hug. In his dreams. And then I remember it’s his birthday, and it’s probably the least I can do.
I meet his hug, pat his back twice, and quickly separate my torso from his.
“Wow, you have got to be the world’s worst hugger,” he says with a belly laugh.
“Happy Birthday!” I say, grinning, and pull out a card from my crossbody purse. Before I can hand it to him, he snatches it from me. “So you bet on me showing up even though the chances weren’t in your favor?”
“Well, it is because, selfishly, I was hoping you would.” He glances up from the card in his hand to meet my eyes.
The softness in his expression lasts a moment before his eyes shoot back down to the card. What the fuck was that?
I promptly change the subject. “So, anyway, the gift card is from Chloe and I. She’s, uh, preoccupied at the moment but wishes you a happy birthday.”
I glance through the hall and see her straddling Dane’s lap in the study near the fireplace. Her face is engulfing him, and he has his hands running through her hair. Seeing their PDA gives me a strange pang in my chest. Is it disgust or envy? I hope the former.
Isaac tears open the envelope and pulls out a green mermaid gift card. “Oh, coffee shop gift card, sweet, ya know I can always use those.”
Isaac tries his best to force a genuine smile, but he knows it’s a lame gift. He starts to lean in for another hug, but I pull back before he can.
“Hey, drinks in the kitchen?” I slowly step backward, motioning towards the double doors I’m hoping lead to the kitchen.
I think I catch a look of disappointment on Isaac’s face that washes away in a split second.
“Yea, just through there, down the hall and through the dining room, we have like every kind of beer, some tequila, and mixers. Help yourself.” He motions with his arm and bows like I’m a royal. “Mi casa es su casa.”
Unfortunately, the double doors do not lead to the kitchen. It opens to what looks to be an endless hallway going in both directions. I try to remember where Isaac said the kitchen was. Was it the left or right?
I decide to go right since I see more people sprawled along the walls in that direction. There are photos of the frat bros through the years along the wall and pairs of college students scattered throughout the hallway.
Word definitely got out that there was a party here.
This is not a small gathering like Isaac suggested it would be.
Each room I pass has students milling about.
Some have already had way too much to drink.
Others are hooking up or sitting in groups, talking.
I can’t say I recognize anyone here. I’d like to find the kitchen as quickly as possible, so I can have a drink to distract me from the lonely dread that is bubbling to the surface.
Finally, at the end of the hall is the giant kitchen. There seem to be twice as many people in the kitchen as in the living room, if that is even possible. I doubt Isaac invited all these people, let alone knows all these people here.
Two girls dressed in matching pink mini dresses sit on the kitchen island, flirting with two frat brothers.
One guy stocks one of the two industrial fridges with Coke, White Claw, and various La Croix flavors, while two others argue about where to put all the beverages.
In fact, this entire kitchen is a professional chef’s dream.
Marble countertops blanket an island the size of a full-size bed.
Two sinks, two fridges, two stoves, two microwaves, and two instant coffee machines are at the disposal of these forty frat dudes.
I try to wiggle my way through the crowd to grab a watermelon La Croix before it gets shelved in the massive fridge, but a glacier of a guy steps in front of me, and I run into him like the Titanic.
The familiar stench of men’s body spray stings my nose.
Trey Roberts.
He towers over me uncomfortably. My gaze follows the buttons on his pastel floral shirt up to his slimy smirk.
His icy blond hair flips over his forehead as he looks down at me.
I’m considered taller than the average girl at five foot nine, but Trey, standing at six foot five, towers like a yeti in front of me.
Suddenly all the memories I’ve tried to push toward the back of my head come rushing forward all at once.
My vision blurs as I think back to the first week of college. Isaac invited us to his first frat party. He was so excited, and we were happy to support him. The haze washes over me. I recall stepping foot in this exact house as Trey opens the door for me.
I’m dressed in my favorite blue metallic skater skirt and a twist-front crop top.
He scans my body as I walked in, looking at my curvy figure like it’s a sandwich board and he’s about to choose which cheese he wants.
Chloe gets pulled off to the side, and before I can follow her, Trey grabs my hand and whispers in my ear if I want a tour.
Naively, I nod all doe-eyed and excited that I caught the attention of an upperclassman.
Except it’s not a tour. Except he doesn’t explain what’s on the glass display shelves.
Except he doesn’t tell me the history of the building.
Except he doesn’t show me the theater or gaming room.