“Are you seriously not drinking?” I ask, looking to Rowe standing behind me. She doesn’t have her cup in her hand, and I’m not giving her mine.
“Rowe doesn’t hold her liquor well,” Cass teases.
“She’s right,” Rowe shrugs. “It’s fine. I’ll take care of you two; make sure you get home. Make sure you don’t go home with the wrong person.”
She’s joking, and her nervous laugh is waiting for me to join in. I smile, then turn to the tap and let my lips fall back to a flat line. No, Rowe—I plan on going home to someone. But now I’m all fucked up over that, too.
“I can’t believe she’s here,” Cass says, gripping at my arm, making me spill a little of my drink.
“Bitch,” I say. I used to tease her with that word all the time, but it’s been a while. It doesn’t feel right saying it like it once did. I grab a towel from the table and wipe the drips from my jeans, then turn to see who she’s talking about. I know before I look. I think part of me knew she’d be here. That’s why I wanted Houston to stay home.
“Is that her?” Rowe asks. Cass nods and whispers something in her ear. I glide to the back, hiding behind them both as we pass into the living room, dozens of bodies and a few sofas coming between Chandra and me.
“Paige, go ask her about it. Go see what’s up,” Cass says, pulling on my arm, trying to urge me to the front of our small group.
“Stop it,” I say, shirking her grip. Her brow pinches in. “I don’t like being manhandled,” I say, not quite the I never want to see her again that I really want to say, but it seems to work and Cass lets it drop.
“So coach completely tossed her this time, huh?” Rowe asks Cass.
“Yeah, she was on probation during the investigation, but I think the athletic director made the final decision. Sometimes the bad press just isn’t worth it. Not like women’s soccer is a big draw or anything, but then people start looking into drug-use for other things—like football,” she says.
I notice Chandra along with my former sorority sister Ashley move through the kitchen to an outside patio. As long as I can keep an eye on her, I think I might be okay. And I can call Houston if I need to leave.
“You should try to get back into Delta,” Cass says, bringing my attention to her. I nod slowly, then sip my beer, always keeping my sight on the crowd that’s growing in the small apartment.
“Maybe,” I say. Or maybe not. Maybe I’m okay not being friends with a bunch of backstabbing bitches. I’m pretty sure Chandra isn’t the rarity anymore. Most of those girls, they’re clones, just waiting to step into her shoes and run things their way. I guess I was waiting for that, too. Now the idea of having to deal with girl drama sounds like a fucking nightmare.
“Maybe not,” I say aloud, still looking—always watching. Cass’s eyes meet mine for a second, and she smirks.
“Yeah, maybe you do your own thing. You know, they’re taking nominations for campus council. You should run for vice president. I’d say president, but you have to be a senior,” Cass says.
I smile and go right back to my beer, drinking the rest of it down. I feel that first one—thank god. I head to the keg, telling Cass I’ll be right back, but I think about her words while I wait in line. The fact that she thinks I could win an election like that feels nice.
“So hot,” I hear a voice whisper behind me. I glance over my shoulder, not fully looking, to see a guy standing close with his friend.
“I know, I mean…damn,” his friend says. I smile, but keep my concentration on my glass and the line ahead. Cass always hates it when guys talk about her, or any woman. She says it’s demeaning. But damn it feels nice to be noticed. It’s always made me feel sexy, even if it’s a chauvinist move, and I think tonight, I needed to feel a little sexy.
When I finish filling my cup, I flip my hair over my shoulder and turn to face my fans, my eyes hazed and my lips barely smiling, just enough to let them know I heard them. But I look just in time to see one of the guys making the motion of a blowjob, and the other one laughing. They see me catch them, and don’t even try to hide what they were doing.
“Hey,” the tallest one says, taking a step forward, getting close enough that I can smell exactly how many beers he’s had tonight. He’s taller than me, even in my heels, and when he looks down on me, I actually feel a little trapped. “You wanna head to one of the bedrooms and make a video?”
“Fuck off,” I say, shoving past him.