Chapter 30
Arya was an incredibly bad dancer. He was, however (relatedly?), very generous with his fist pumps.
He also seemed to know the words to every song, no matter what genre, which was very amusing.
Nina couldn’t help matching his energy, enjoying herself more than she’d expected at what was essentially a more naked version of prom.
“Your date looks like Aladdin!” Ryoko screamed in Nina’s ear.
“What?” Nina shouted back. The song changed to something from Arya’s youth, which was funny and terrible in terms of the reaction it provoked in Arya.
“My sooooong!” he roared. Three other frat guys roared back, hypermasculine call and response.
“Oh my god,” said Nina faintly.
“He’s really hot, like Aladdin!” Ryoko yelled.
“Arya, they can’t all be your song,” Nina shouted at him. He ignored her, attempting something that might have been the Dougie, and her phone buzzed. “Hey, Arya? I’m going to the bathroom.”
“What?” said Arya.
“I have to pee!”
“Okay! This is my song,” Arya shouted at her, gesturing to the speakers.
“I’m peeing,” Nina informed him, and began to push her way through the sea of sweaty Kens, emerging onto the edge of the dance floor and making her way toward the front entrance.
The venue was a restaurant that had closed down for the event, something that had seemed an absurd thing for a restaurant to do until Tessa explained how much The House prepaid for alcohol.
Nina said she’d been trying not to think about stuff like that—she’d spent the first month after bid night bracing silently for the bill, like every spare breath of enjoyment in The House was being added to her tab—and Tessa had said, quote, dude, you’re in The House, you never have to worry about money again!
Nina had felt dazed at the time, fully dazzled.
Really?
Really really. Everything’s paid for. Alumnae funds.
Seriously, everything?
Seriously, everything. SISTERHOOD, BABY!
“There you are, finally—”
Someone grabbed Nina’s hand and pulled her into the corridor leading to the bathrooms. Nina hiccuped a laugh, letting herself be pressed flush against the wall.
“Missed me?” she whispered to Fawn, letting her palms trace the silk of Fawn’s dress.
“Absolutely. I’m bored as fuck. You look hot.” Fawn’s lips brushed Nina’s neck as she laughed. “But you smell like sweat and vodka.”
“Mmm,” Nina said in an exaggerated moan. She felt electric as Fawn’s hand slipped under her skirt.
“Not leaving much to the imagination, are you?” said Fawn. “Good. Who has the time.”
Nina giggled, a little breathy moan slipping out. Vodka did something to her volume control. And her balance.
“Fawn?” came a voice, and Fawn stepped coolly away from Nina, turning to look at Summer Toft, who Nina now understood was Fawn’s executive vice president.
“Everything okay, Sum?” The nickname felt weaponized, somehow. Nina shifted like she’d poked herself on it.
“Oh yeah, just Katy’s date throwing up in the bathroom. I sent them off in a cab—Katy’s fine, she’s taking him home.”
“Great,” said Fawn. “Thanks.”
“Just doing my job.” Summer smiled at Nina.
From a blurry place of observation, Nina felt there was a strangeness, some blockade between Summer and Fawn, such that one or both were pretending the other was invisible or simply did not exist. “Having fun, Nina? Your date is really hot,” Summer informed her with a wink.
“Even Alina’s boyfriend thinks so. I think he might have turned half the guys in that room. ”
“Oh, Arya’s a family friend,” Nina started to say, but Fawn gripped her hand covertly.
“We’ll be back in a sec,” Fawn said to Summer, who shifted her attention away from Nina and back to Fawn with something that might have been a grimace, although the corridor was only dimly lit. “I’m taking Nina outside to get some air. She’s feeling faint.”
“Oh shit, I’m sorry, Nina,” said Summer, looking genuine in her concern. Probably because they were sisters, and sisters cared! “Do you want me to get you some water?”
Fawn interjected, “I’ve got her, Summer, thanks. I’ll be back in a couple minutes.”
“Okay, take your time.” This, too, was directed at Nina, who suddenly couldn’t remember what it looked like to feel faint, and wondered if she were committing appropriately to the improvisation.
Summer’s voice was already growing distant, Nina tripping casually toward the door in Fawn’s thrall.
“It’s not like it’s the first time we’ve lost a cleaning deposit—”
Fawn tugged Nina out the side door, the cold night air like a knife to Nina’s lungs.
The venue was one in a row of high street restaurants, beside which was another hot downtown spot with a long line of respectable-looking middle-aged adults.
Fawn guided Nina out of sight, into the narrow entry path between buildings.
“Holy fuck, it’s cold out here,” Nina gasped, and then Fawn’s mouth was on hers, warm and delicious. She capitulated with a sigh, or maybe something louder, before licking the inside of Fawn’s mouth. Like catching drips of maple syrup, honey falling on her tongue.
Fawn laughed. “You’re horny as fuck. Down, girl.” She gestured over her shoulder, taking a step away. “We’re in public.”
“I’m drunk,” said Nina. “You’re hot. Do the math. What’d we come outside for anyway, if not this?”
“Not my best plan, all things considered.” Fawn kissed Nina hard, then stepped away, back toward the restaurant’s side door and in view of the street. “Are you gonna be hooking up with your date tonight?”
“Depends,” Nina said coyly, reaching out in an attempt to find Fawn’s nipple through the whalebone of her shapewear and then giving up once she realized it was an impossible task in her current state. “What are you doing later?”
“Not me, dummy, your actual date. What’s his name? Arya?”
“Oh,” Nina said, her hand slipping to find Fawn’s. “No way. I told you, Arya’s just—”
She stopped, unintentionally locking eyes with one of the people in line for the restaurant next door. He was looking curiously over at her as a woman stood impassively beside him, typing something into her phone.
“Professor Villanueva?” Nina registered aloud without thinking.
“Nina!” exclaimed Professor Villanueva, his voice excessively upbeat. “I thought that was you.”
“Oh, yeah,” said Nina, realizing now how ridiculous she must look. Her hand was still floating midair, untaken for obvious reasons. “It’s an invite. It’s Malibu Barbie themed.”
“Oh, a classic,” said Professor Villanueva meaninglessly.
Something felt off, Nina realized. She knew she was drunk and dressed like a sex object, but there was something much more off than that.
The woman had looked up from her phone, frowning slightly at her.
Then a different look passed over her face, which Nina didn’t know what to do with.
“This is my friend Fawn,” Nina said to fill the silence. “This is my philosophy professor,” she added to Fawn, hoping she’d catch her drift.
“Oh, right, I forgot you were taking that class this semester,” said Fawn. “Nice to see you, Professor!”
Odd phrasing, Nina thought. Or was it? Fawn had so many voices, Nina realized, as if from a dream. She could sound like so many people, with so many timbres and meanings and aims.
“This is my wife, Dr. Hartley,” Professor Villanueva told Nina, maneuvering slightly out of the way. The woman beside him had a curious look on her face, like she was solving a math equation, though she managed to lift a hand in greeting.
Something lit inside of Nina like a sudden, distant triumph.
She knew, like glimpsing another life through a keyhole, that this was what she had narrowly avoided by saying yes to The House.
A boring life, waiting in line for a restaurant, having nothing to say to a man who probably fucks his students, who’ll think about Nina’s tits tonight when he comes in missionary while the baby sleeps.
“Dr. Hartley!” said Fawn in an animated voice. “You’re our academic advisor, right?”
“Yes, oh, hi,” said Dr. Hartley politely, like an email ending with the phrase all best. She wrapped her coat tighter around her—it was red, so beautifully tailored, effortless like she’d just pulled it on over her outfit, no forethought required. “God, aren’t you girls cold?”
The side entrance opened, revealing a stumbling Arya in the frame.
“There you are!” he announced when he spotted Nina. “I was checking on you in the bathroom but then one of the other Barbies said—”
He stopped, straightening, when his eyes drifted over Nina’s shoulder to Professor Villanueva and Dr. Hartley.
“Oh, Sloane,” Arya said as if he couldn’t help himself.
“Arya,” Dr. Hartley replied in a low, amused voice. She looked suddenly more awake than she had in the moments previous.
“This is … I don’t normally—” Arya coughed. “I don’t usually refer to women as Barbies. I just—Well, I told you about my cousin Nina, right?”
“I do recall that you have one, yes.” Dr. Hartley sounded like she was trying not to laugh.
Nina thought she was really pretty, actually, especially now that she’d become interested in the conversation.
She seemed like someone who probably knew what a good wine was and how to wash delicate fabrics and why that coat fit her so perfectly, like a glove.
“Well, that’s us, I think,” announced Professor Villanueva, gesturing to the name the host had just called, and that was when Nina clocked it. The strangeness. Professor Villanueva hadn’t even glanced at Fawn, and was conspicuously not looking at her now. “Nice to see you! Enjoy your evening!”
“Looking forward to our hedonism discussion on Monday!” Nina called back unthinkingly.
Dr. Hartley gave something of a strangled laugh before following Professor Villanueva inside.
“That’s the professor, isn’t it?” Fawn said to Nina, who had forgotten they’d been joined by Arya.
“What professor?” he asked.
“The one Nina has the hots for.” Fawn had a strange smile on her face, like it was forced. Was she jealous? Something in Nina roared with heat.
“Not really,” said Nina. “I mean, he’s hot. But I think he might actually do it, which makes it less fun.”
“True, the fantasy is the fun part,” Fawn agreed. Her gaze drifted sideways, interest lost.
“Oh, I don’t know,” said Arya quietly, half to himself. “Sometimes the fun is the fun part.”
He looked like he’d sobered up in the past five minutes, or had tried to and failed. He no longer seemed joyful or free.
Then he turned to Nina, who, by contrast, was lightheaded with something she couldn’t yet articulate. “You okay? One of your friends told me you were feeling sick.”
“No, I’m—I mean, I’m fine now,” Nina assured him, fumbling the lie. “I do still have to pee, though. Fawn?” she asked, turning to her. “Want to come?”
She didn’t know what she’d accomplish sneaking into the bathroom, but she had a feeling that whatever it was, it wouldn’t take long.
Seeing Professor Villanueva in the wild could have been awkward and embarrassing—it certainly wasn’t not—but what it really did was make Nina feel even more craven about her real life. About the little treats she deserved.
“Sorry, you know how girls are,” Fawn offered to Arya, alive again, interested again, following Nina to the bathroom with a giggle once the three of them had gone back inside.
The stalls were roomy and ideal. Nina and Fawn slipped into one and kissed soundlessly, Fawn’s fingers shoving Nina’s flimsy thong aside to dive inside her. “This can’t take long,” she said in Nina’s ear. “Someone will notice I’ve been gone.”
“I won’t take long,” Nina assured her. “God, Fawn—”
“Don’t say my name,” Fawn whispered. Then: “Not until I make you come.”
Nina nearly came on the spot. “I think you’re onto something with the sneaking around.”
Behind closed eyes she saw Dr. Hartley’s red coat, like a lipstick stain on a starched collar. Fresh blood from a shallow cut. She wondered if elsewhere in the venue someone would feel it, the way the flutter of her orgasm around Fawn’s fingers could spell out I love you in Morse code.
“I think I’m onto more than that.” Fawn grinned wickedly, quickening her pace as she slipped her fingers in ad out of Nina, pausing to rhythmically circle her clit. “This’ll be so much easier when you move into the house,” she murmured.
The thought of it made Nina sick with pleasure. “One more week.”
“Mm.” Fawn’s tongue slipped out between her lips. “What do you think about your professor?”
“What?” Nina felt fucking indecent, riding the knuckles of Enchanted Evening Barbie like she’d never had a pure thought in her life.
It felt ecstatic, freeing. She couldn’t imagine the version of herself who’d wanted to fuck Professor Villanueva, even just for fun.
It had seemed exciting once as a fantasy, but now it was pathetic, some grown-ass man who’d probably shove his dick down her throat while his wife checked on the casserole and changed diapers alone. Fucking disgusting. “I’m over him.”
“I don’t mean that.” Fawn’s eyes looked a little glazed over, watching Nina’s breath quicken as she worked her fingers in and slowly out, one hand covering Nina’s mouth to stifle her animal groans of urgency. “As a candidate.”
“Candidate for what?” The words were muffled into Fawn’s hand.
Nina was so close it was physically painful.
The angle was ever so slightly off; she wanted to part her legs wider, to be fucked somewhere she could leisurely spread out.
She wanted nothing more than to scream for Fawn’s mouth.
The words suck me, please, I beg you crossed the forefront of her mind, which somehow made everything even more explosive.
Outside the door, the pulse of bodies was a minor revelry, a fleeting high. Not a hunt. The House in heat. Fawn pressed her hand flat against Nina, letting her grind herself hard into Fawn’s palm until Nina finally, blessedly, came with a strangled moan.
“For dinner,” whispered Fawn in Nina’s ear, biting down hard on her lip.