Chapter 15
Thirty minutes later, I swing open the front door of the Alpha Delta frat house, ready to crash the Heaven & Hell party and finally corner Hayes to get some answers.
I’m wearing the only red thing I own in my wardrobe of black—an old dress I haven’t touched since I was eleven.
It was part of a Little Red Riding Hood costume I wore trick-or-treating with Hayes in junior high.
I was Red. He was the Big Bad Wolf. The cape and wicker basket are long gone, but somehow the dress survived, stuffed in the back of my closet like a relic from another life.
My costume did not look like this back then.
What used to hit my knees now barely skims the tops of my thighs. The once-loose cotton bodice clings tightly to me, framing more cleavage than I usually show and hugging every inch like it knows exactly what it’s doing. I wasn’t trying to be sexy. It just turned out that way.
I didn’t have a backup, so it was either show up in a slightly scandalous costume or don’t wear one at all, and for a college frat party, that felt like the worse choice. I already stood out enough without making it look like I didn’t get the memo.
Feeling self-conscious, I threw on my black vegan leather jacket and knee-high lace-up boots to toughen it up.
I left my choker on, the familiar band steady and grounding like armor.
A swipe of my mom’s red lipstick finishes the look.
If Amber’s playing the angel in her head-to-toe white ensemble, then I guess that makes me the devil.
The smell of beer, weed, and too-strong body spray hits me like a wall the second I step into the common room where the party is in full swing. The DJ blasts AC/DC’s “Highway to Hell,” bass thumping so hard I feel it in my ribs.
The Alpha Delt’s house has been completely transformed for the Heaven & Hell theme.
All around me, red string lights coil over the furniture like glowing vines, casting everything in a low, infernal glow.
Smoke machines puff steady, hazy clouds from the corners, curling around my boots as I walk past. Half the ceiling is rigged with fake icicle chandeliers, while flickering red bulbs cover the rest. Heaven on one side, Hell on the other, apparently.
I scan the crowd for Hayes, weaving through all the bodies pressed and dancing together like one giant, writhing organism under pulsing strobe lights.
Half-naked angels float past me in white lace and rhinestone halos, sipping neon jungle juice from plastic cups.
The devils are even bolder in their tight red vinyl, glitter fishnets, and sky-high scarlet stilettos.
I duck around a half-angel, half-devil couple making out under an archway of red and white balloons, then cut toward the back of the room.
No sign of Hayes anywhere.
Either he hasn’t arrived yet—or worse, he’s already upstairs in one of the bedrooms with some random girl. Or possibly my sister, who’s also mysteriously missing.
The thought makes my stomach twist, but I force myself to stay optimistic. Maybe he’s just out back, flirting with one of the barely-dressed sorority girls I saw heading that way. Not ideal, but still better than the alternative—him off somewhere, tangled up with Amber.
I step through the sliding glass doors onto the back patio, the thud of bass muffled as it closes behind me.
The air is sharp with the bite of early October.
A cluster of guys lounge in teak chairs near the deck, doing shots, the white linen cushions stained with spilled drinks.
On the grass, a giant inflatable pool sloshes beneath a tangle of drunk freshmen I vaguely recognize from class, stripped down to their bras and angel-themed underwear, wings abandoned in the dirt.
They shriek and splash around like overexcited hyenas.
A flicker of warmth blooms in my chest as I spot Argy curled up beside one of the fire pits.
At this point, the dog has basically become the frat’s unofficial mascot.
Someone apparently felt inspired and tried to dress him up.
A pair of red devil horns lies abandoned beside him, and he rests his head on his paws, yawning like he’s deeply unimpressed with everyone’s life choices.
“Argy!” I drop to my knees and clap my hands. “Come here, baby!”
His ears perk up, and he’s on his feet and in my arms before I can brace for it, tail whipping back and forth like he’s been waiting all night for me to arrive.
He covers my face in wet, enthusiastic kisses, whining softly.
I laugh, holding him close and pressing my face into his fur.
It’s nice to know at least he still wants me around.
“Aw, don’t you two make an adorable couple?”
I look up to find Amber standing there, flanked by Tiffany and Brooke, who giggle at her stupid joke.
Rebecca lingers off to the side, arms crossed, offering me an awkward little wave.
They’re all wearing slightly different versions of the same angel costume Amber has on—tight white dresses, glittery halo headbands, and feathered wings.
“Hilarious, Ambs,” I mutter, biting my tongue. I’m not here for drama. “Have you seen Hayes? I can’t find him.”
Amber tilts her head, all wide eyes and mock surprise. “Thought you weren’t coming tonight.”
“Changed my mind.” I shrug, scratching behind Argy’s ears. “Have you seen him or not?”
I rise to my feet, brushing grass from the hem of my dress, and something in Amber’s face changes. Her eyes sweep over my outfit—the red dress, the boots, the lipstick—and her mouth tightens, caught between jealousy and judgment. A few guys nearby are staring openly now. Appreciatively.
Not at her. At me.
I feel the difference immediately. And so does Amber.
“Oh my God,” she says, loud enough for everyone around us to hear. “What are you wearing? You look like Little Red Riding Slut.”
Tiffany and Brooke laugh on cue, loud and performative, always hungry for Amber’s approval.
Rebecca shifts awkwardly beside them. “Amber, come on.” She offers me a small, watery smile. “I think you look nice, Alysander.”
“Oh, relax.” Amber waves her off with a breezy flick of her wrist. “She knows I’m just joking.”
“And so witty,” I say. “Ever consider a career in stand-up?”
Amber leans in, close enough that it almost feels private.
“Look, I know you’re hurting,” she says, a tight, uneasy edge beneath her voice.
“But throwing on the tightest thing you own and showing up here like some psycho ex isn’t going to make Hayes suddenly want you around again.
You’re better than this, Ally. And if he doesn’t see that, maybe it’s time to stop chasing him. ”
I step back, my stomach flipping uncomfortably. Her words sting, mostly because I’ve already thought them myself. That maybe I came here hoping for something that isn’t going to happen. That this is exactly how humiliation looks.
“Thanks for the life advice, Oprah,” I say.
“I’m just saying, you’re giving off a sad, last-ditch-effort vibe.” Amber tilts her head, and there’s actual sympathy in her eyes now, which somehow makes it even worse. “And it’s not a good look.”
“Got it. I’m a pathetic loser,” I deadpan. “Any other pearls of wisdom you want to drop before you go?”
She lets out a frustrated groan. “That’s not what I meant.
You always twist everything around. I’m actually trying to help you here,” she says, reaching for me like she’s offering some benevolent hand of mercy.
“Look—instead of running around after Hayes all night, come hang with us instead. I promise we’ll have fun. ”
I bat her away.
“Thanks for the super tempting offer, but I’d rather swallow a box of razors.”
Two red blotches bloom across her perfectly bronzed skin, and for a second, she doesn’t have a comeback.
Rebecca glances nervously between us. “Maybe we should just go inside, Ambs,” she says, rubbing at her bare arms. “It’s freezing out here.”
I shrug off my leather jacket. “Here,” I say, holding it out to Rebecca. “You can borrow it. I’m heading back inside to find Hayes anyway.”
“You sure?” she asks, her fingers brushing mine as she takes it from me. There’s a flicker of something in her smile. Hesitant, almost shy. “That’s really nice of you.”
“Becca, gross. Quit flirting with my sister,” Amber says with a nasty smirk. “Ally’s not here to be your gay awakening. She’s too busy obsessing over Hayes to notice anyone else.”
Brooke and Tiffany erupt into laughter, and Rebecca goes rigid. Her smile evaporates as she shrinks back, pale skin flushing fiercely.
A hot pulse of anger hits me. Not because I think Rebecca is actually flirting with me, but because of what she shared with me the other day about her sexuality. Amber twisting that into a joke seems like a shitty thing to do.
“Jesus, Amber. Don’t be an asshole,” I say before turning to Rebecca, smiling apologetically. “Sorry. She got dropped on her head one too many times as a baby.”
Something shifts in Rebecca’s face, her expression curdling. “Mind your own business, Alysander,” she says, her voice suddenly cool. “I didn’t ask for your help.”
“I wasn’t—”
“And I don’t need your pity,” she cuts me off. “Or your ugly coat.”
“I’m sorry. I just thought—”
“You thought what?” She lets out a brittle laugh, her eyes sweeping over me with slow, surgical precision. “You thought I needed saving? Please. Have you looked in a mirror? That dress and that lipstick? You’re trying so hard, it’s honestly tragic.”
A knot tightens in my throat.
I can brush off Amber and the other girls. They’ve never pretended to be anything else. But Rebecca? Some part of me really believed she might be different. That maybe, in the middle of all this, I’d found someone who might actually become a friend.
“Here—take it,” she says and hurls the jacket back at my face like it burns.
Argyros’s ears flatten. A deep growl rumbles from his chest, low and warning, as he steps in front of me and bares his teeth at her.