Chapter 1
Lydia Bridges
The music fills my body and I take another sip of my drink. I should stop. I’m already drunk, but it makes me feel... nothing. My body tingles and my head swims, and my world is music and dancing.
“Oh my god,” Trisha interrupts my thoughts, or lack of thoughts, and I open my eyes. The room is dimly lit and filled with people.
“What?” I ask and look around, trying to focus my eyes in the direction she’s looking.
“He’s here. I didn’t think he’d come.”
“Who?” Trisha flutters from one crush to the other and I’m not entirely sure who is on the receiving end this time.
“What do you mean, who? Wesley Porter. The sexiest hockey player at UNI.”
I search the crowd and spot the man in question. He’s standing in a group of UNI Lions, smiling at something someone says. Why do hockey players always seem to travel in a pack?
He’s not a bad-looking guy, with his soft, dirty blond hair and white teeth. Like all the hockey guys, he’s tall and muscular. And confident.
I bring my drink up, but a firm hand stops me.
“Here,” Pres says and exchanges my cup for a water bottle. “I am not carrying you home again, or holding your hair while you throw up.” She straightens her slim shoulders and gives me a stern look that must have been passed down through generations along with her wealth.
“You’re no fun,” I say, but drink the water. “You should go talk to him.” I nudge Trisha, who’s biting her lip.
“I can’t do that. It’s Wes freaking Porter.”
“So?” I shrug. “Didn’t he smile at you last week?” The smile that started this whole crush.
“But why would he go for me? He probably flirts with everyone.”
“You’re gorgeous. You’re hot AF in that dress. He won’t be able to take his eyes off you.” Trisha tucks a lock of her chocolate brown hair behind her ear.
“You should go for it.” Pres sounds almost bored. “Rumor has it he broke up with what’s-her-name over the summer and he’s looking to get back on the market. The worst he can do is turn you down.”
“Ok, I’ll do it.” Trisha downs the last of her drink and crosses the floor.
“You think it’ll work?” I ask as we watch her approach him.
“No idea. But if she doesn’t try, we’ll never hear the end of it. Have you got your eyes on anyone?”
There are frat boys all around us, but none of them pique my interest. Some of them I know, some of them I can barely remember, but none of them is getting me excited.
I finally shake my head. “No, not tonight. You?”
Pres takes a long look around the room, lingering slightly on the group of hockey players. Then she shrugs. “I’ll probably hook up with the guy from Econ. He’s been pretty insistent.”
“The cute one with the earring?”
“Yeah.”
“You could do worse.”
“I could also do a lot better.” I blink and wonder if I imagined that glance or if there is someone she has her eye on.
It’s hard to care when I’m this drunk. “Come on, let’s go outside. I need some air.”
“You’re not going to throw up, are you?”
I ignore her question as we make our way past Trisha. She’s bashing her eyelashes at Wes and he seems to be enjoying the attention.
“I guess we won’t have to wait around for her,” Pres says when we reach the outside with its fresh air and more tolerable sound levels.
“I guess not.” I feel grumpy and I’m not sure why. Maybe I’ve been doing too much of this lately. Drinking, dancing, hooking up. It was my life last year, and if it hadn’t been for my sister Ellie, I probably wouldn’t have passed any classes.
I sigh and wonder if this year is going to be more of the same. Without realizing it, my hand has gone to my left thigh and I’m rubbing the faint scar underneath my skirt.
I bypass the people sharing a joint and close my eyes. The alcohol is slowly wearing off. I don’t want that. The alcohol keeps me sane. The music and the dancing keep me sane. And yet, I know...
“Are you coming to the party at the hen house tomorrow?”
I shake my head. The hen house is off Greek Row, but not by much. It’s one of the smaller houses that every year gets rented by a group of students with rich parents. This particular house is currently rented by a group of girls. Someone made a joke about their cackling, and the following morning, they woke up to seven chickens in the backyard.
The chickens are long gone, but the name stuck.
“I can’t. I have to start my communications project.”
“You haven’t started yet?”
Pres always finds time to do her homework, even though we’re almost always at the same parties.
“We don’t all have private tutors, you know.” My voice is sharper than I intended, but Pres doesn’t notice.
“Alex is great, isn’t she? I’m so glad Daddy insisted.”
Having rich parents sure must be nice. I rub my scar again and shake it off.
“Let’s go back inside. I want to dance.” The fresh air isn’t helping my mood, I want to forget the world.
Inside, the air is thick and I drop my empty water bottle in a trashcan before heading onto the dance floor. Pres joins me and we dance with a couple of guys who clearly want more than they’re going to get tonight.
There’s some sort of commotion towards the front of the house, but I don’t care enough to find out what it is. And the guys dancing with us don’t seem to care either.
I’ve almost changed my mind about one of them when Trisha appears in front of us. Something’s wrong. I stop dancing. Even in my inebriated state, I can tell there are tears in her eyes.
“I want to go home,” she says and turns to the door.
With a worried look at each other, Pres and I hurry after.
“What happened?” I ask when we’re outside.
“Let’s just go home,” Trisha says and walks as fast as her high heels will allow her.
It takes a few blocks before she slows down enough that we can hold a conversation.
“What happened?” I ask again.
Trisha takes a shaky breath and I can tell that she’s about to cry.
“I thought things were going well. He really seemed into me. We were flirting, you know.”
“Sure,” Pres says with a wrinkled forehead.
“So I suggested we go back to my place.”
“Did he turn you down?” Pres asks.
Trisha shakes her head. “He said that was a great idea, and he... He whispered some things he wanted to do to me, tear off my dress and whatnot. And we started leaving, and everyone was watching us. Because he’s Wesley freaking Porter. And I was thinking how every woman there wanted to be in my shoes.” Trisha hangs her head.
“Go on,” I say cautiously, sharing a glance with Pres.
“If he had just said no, I don’t think anyone would have cared, but he held my hand as we walked to the door and it was almost as if he wanted everyone to see us leave together. I didn’t mind that part. But then, she showed up.” Trisha grimaces. “His ex. And he dropped my hand like last week’s trash. I tried taking his arm, but all she had to do was look at him and he pushed me away. And she gave me this triumphant look, like I was nothing.”
“Don’t tell me he went with her instead.” I groan.
“He forgot about me instantly, and I have never felt so rejected in my life. Everyone was staring at me. Then, when she turned him down, he just ran out of the party. And left me there.” Trisha bursts into tears.
“What an asshole,” Pres says.
“You are better off without him.” I give her a hug and hold her as she cries.
“I’m so stupid. I really thought I had a chance with him.”
“He’s the stupid one,” I assure her.
“How dare he treat you like that?” Pres softly caresses her back.
“Because he’s a hockey player,” I say. There’s a reason I never got into the players. “They think they’re so much better than everyone on campus, like they’re the stars of the University of North Irondale. Just because they win a few games here and there.”
“They act like everyone needs to worship them,” Pres says and huffs. “It’s annoying. Someone needs to take them down a peg.”
My eyes shine and I’m not sure if I’ve drunk too much, or not enough. “You’re right. They do need to be humbled. Wes Porter especially.”
Trisha looks at me with tear-stained eyes. “You’re not going to get yourself arrested again, are you?”
“That was one time, and it didn’t stick. I have no intention of trying that again, but someone needs to teach that man about being respectful to women.”
“I don’t like that smile,” Trisha says and pulls back a little.
“Oh, we are in for a treat,” Pres smiles and I recognize the glint of mischief that dances between us.
