“Yes.” She smiles and I should’ve known that smile was going to be the death of me.
◆◆◆
I pull on the bottom of the miniskirt that Shelby shoved me into. I’m not exactly skinny, curvy is more like it, and even though I don’t have any real self-confidence issues, this thing is so short every single guy here is going to get a flash of my crotch by the end of the night.
If and that’s a pretty big if I go out with Shelby again, she will not be dressing me.
Brushing a few strands of my silky blonde hair behind my ear I survey the crowded room. The frat house is filled to max occupancy with women and men of all ages. There’s dancing, singing, and drinking games. People chilling on the couch in the living room, smoking what I’m pretty sure isn’t cigarettes based on the sweet aroma that permeates the air.
“We made it.” Shelby huffs, a wide grin on her blood red painted lips. She acts like she just aced a test that she’s been studying for all semester. We stand together, side by side, in the middle of the room, watching as people move around it, chatting, and having the time of their lives. The longer we stand there the more attention we bring to ourselves.
I can feel eyes on me, gliding over my bare legs, and my shirt that hangs off of one shoulder. Yeah, I don’t like this. Being the center of attention. Feeling out of place and a little timid, I hide behind the curtain of my hair as I turn to Shelby.
“We came, we saw, we had some fun, can we go now?” I whine, tugging on her arm. I haven’t been to a party since that night. That disastrous night. A shiver runs down my spine at the memory, at the anger, and simmering rage that reflected back at me from all three of the Bishop brothers.
“We’ll make you pay for this, Harlow. One day you won’t have your parents’ protection, and then what will you do?”
Shrugging I say, “I’m not scared of you. You’re weak. Pathetic. Just like your parents.”
Oliver entered my bubble of space, forcing me to take a step back or be chest to chest with him, “One day, we’ll get even with you. We’ll break you. You’ll wish you were never born.”
“You’ll be waiting a long time…” I sneer, feeling the fear slither up my spine and around my throat like a snake.
Wiggling my shoulders, I shake off the unpleasant emotions coming with the memory.
“Nope.” Shelby pops the p, and grabs onto my hand, tugging us deeper into the house. The place is huge, similar to the mansion I lived in back home. There are priceless paintings on the walls, crown molding, and chandeliers that cost more than most cars. It reminds me so much of my old life, that I have to shake away the creepy feeling slithering up my back. I did my research when selecting a college and I made certain this one wouldn’t have any billionaire co-eds.
As far as I know, Shelby and I are the only two people attending this university with parents that make more than a million a year. Which leaves me to wonder whos house it is? Does another student own it? His or her parents? Why do you even care, Harlow?
Paranoid. I’m being paranoid. Ever since leaving North Woods I’ve wondered when my past would come back to haunt me. All the things I said and did. The guilt eats away at me every single day. I let my father lead me blindly into the dark. I let him feed me lie after lie. I thought I was doing the right thing, but I wasn’t.
When we enter the kitchen I notice the black marble counters and stainless steel appliances. Off the kitchen is a pair of patio doors that open up to a backyard that butts up to the beach. It’s beautiful really, minus all the college coeds that are liquored up.
There’s a makeshift bar set up on the huge island and Shelby gets to work mixing us something to drink. Everything’s okay. I tell myself, blowing out air through my mouth, before inhaling through my nose.
“Here,” Shelby says, her pink painted nails coming into view as she shoves a red cup into my hand, the contents sloshing against the sides of the cup. I peer inside of it before bringing it to my nose to sniff.
“What is this? It smells like straight alcohol.”
Shelby shrugs, her hazel eyes narrowing, “Just drink it. Live a little, will you? If you promise to have a good time, I’ll promise not to push you to go out with me so much. Deal?”
Ugh, as much as I hate to admit it, she's right. I’m eighteen, a college student. I need to live a little, and enjoy the years ahead of me before they’re gone and I’m forced to be an actual adult, with a job, and responsibilities.
“Fine. I’ll try.” I give her a weak smile and take a drink of the pink looking liquid. The burn I was expecting doesn’t come and I’m pleasantly surprised by the cherry tang that’s left against my lips.
“Good, huh?” Shelby asks, watching me like a hawk.
“Decent. It doesn’t taste like I’m drinking lighter fluid.”
“Shut up.” She giggles, taking a drink from her cup. The hairs on the back of my neck stand on end and I don’t understand why. Swinging my gaze around the room I look for anything out of place. What’s wrong with me? I think I’m losing my mind.
A loud rap song comes blaring through the speakers, vibrating through the masses of bodies and into my skull, causing a dull ache to form there. A book wouldn’t give me this kind of headache. Feeling as if I’ll need it, I drink the rest of the liquid in my cup and hand it back to Shelby with a mischievous grin.
“Make me another. I’m going to go find a bathroom. If I’m not back in ten minutes send out a search party.”
“Don’t be so dramatic.” She takes the cup and ushers me away. “Go to the bathroom. I’ll be here when you get back.”
Leaving the kitchen I notice a group of women in skirts shorter than my own enter the house. My heart sinks into my stomach at the sight. Barbies. Three girls dolled up like plastic dolls. Fake. Popular. Gorgeous. Every college and high school has them.
They stick out like a weed in a bed of flowers. They giggle, and toss their hair over their shoulders, batting their eyelashes at every man that looks their way, and there are a lot of men looking their way. Turning, I head for the huge staircase before they come any closer, I know their type—they’ll either want to befriend me and initiate me into their clan, or they’ll make me public enemy number one—I don’t want to get on their radar, I want to have an uneventful, lowkey college experience. Rushing up the stairs I almost run head first into a couple that is making out against the railing.
I mumble a half-hearted apology and continue in search of a bathroom. I open one door to find an empty bedroom with a large inviting looking bed in the center. How bad is it that I would rather curl up in that bed and read a book than go back downstairs and party with the other students?
When I pull the door shut behind me, a familiar scent coming from inside the room tickles my nose. I can’t quite place the unique smell, something like a forest after a rainy day.
I keep walking down the hall and the next door I open is actually a bathroom. I disappear inside, locking the door behind me. It is almost as big as my dorm room. I shake my head at the size and fanciness of it all.
I used to think this is all that mattered, money, pretty things and people who look up to you. That’s what my family taught me to think and there was a time when I didn’t question anything my parents told me. That time is over. Now I know better.