Chapter 1
EVELYN’S POV
Perhaps I should’ve stopped drinking before I crashed my boyfriend’s party. Probably should’ve stopped before I threw all his things out of the top window. Definitely should’ve stopped before I was sick on the naked girl in his bed.
In retrospect I couldn’t really blame the Alpha Psi’s for kicking me out the frat house.
But the video was a bit much.
The video that was posted on the unofficial ice hockey page. 512k likes and counting. The camera was shaky but there was no denying that was my face I was staring at. My face covered in snot, tears and sick.
Perfect.
And I thought Friday night being curled up in an armchair clicking through Insta stories of a party I had not been invited to and seeing my boyfriend stick his tongue down a girl’s throat was a low point.
This was lower.
“You fucking cheated on me!” The sound was turned down but my voice still rang out, clear over the music and the laughter around me. “You stuck up, ugly, self-obsessed little dick!”
Much. Lower.
To be fair at least drunk me did have a point.
“Can someone get this crazy bitch out of my room.” Nate was trying to walk towards me, trying to stop the precious Four Cup Trophy being thrown out onto the pavement, but was – unfortunately for the both of us – limited by the duvet that was wrapped around his waist and wrapped around that very pretty, ginger girl in his bed. The girl had it pressed up against her naked chest and was staring wide eyed, open mouthed at the spectacle, looking on the brink of tears.
“You think you can stop me! You can’t hold me down Nate Tanner! I will not be chained by the tiny tiddler anymore. I am free!” Ginger’s reaction was probably justified.
The video shook momentarily with a low laugh.
“Chase. Jacob. Ethan bro, can you get her out of here.” My silhouette was in the corner of the video as the cameraman was temporarily distracted, just missing the shot of me attempting mouth-to-mouth on a vodka bottle. I didn’t need to look to know what came next. Most of my memories of that night have thankfully disappeared, but this one somehow survived.
The sounds of retching filtered through the phone speaker, as flashes of her horrified face filtered through my mind. Her mouth open with shock (she really should’ve closed it for what was about to come), it was almost like time stopped. The video went silent. Then- another retch. Nate was the first to come round.
“GET HER THE FUCK OUT OF HERE”
I was half gagging and half apologizing to the ginger, who probably hadn’t realized that someone could vomit with such force and cover such distance. The camera was shaking now with the force of laughter, as the ginger burst into floods of hiccupping tears, vomit dripping from her hair.
Could someone die from shame? Maybe if I willed hard enough my heart would just stop beating (or better Nate’s and the asshole that took this video) and this would all be over. Just some blip in the long embarrassing story of my life.
“Logan, can you actually help, for fucks sake.” Nate’s voice had gone all high and pitchy, I didn’t need to look to know his face would be red, that vein above his left ear popping.
Another low laugh from behind the camera.
“Alright, alright.” Was the last thing I heard before the video cut.
“So, with my high-level detective skills I’m guessing that the culprit is Logan...” A pause as my best friend Sophie laugh-snorted. “Logan. I don’t know who that is. Ugh this is awful.”
I turned off my phone, ignoring all the texts, the calls, the follow requests from the randoms that had seen my outburst. I pulled the duvets up, turning around screaming into my pillow. Well, this was it. The official death of my social life. It hadn’t even really been born yet, just a fragile butterfly unfurling its wings before being crushed under the vomit monsoon.
Perhaps my mother was right, maybe the big-shot, party hard, live fast of a city journalist might be a bit much for rural, country bumpkin Evelyn. I mean this was my very first college party and look. It was the end. If I was a politician this would be the front page. The subject of all subsequent biographies. This was vomgate.
Pretty easy to guess my desired field of journalism. Not the boring sports pieces that had gotten me into this mess in the first place.
The girl that threw up on her boyfriend’s side piece.
Fuck. This.
“It’s not as bad as you seem to think. It looks better on camera than it did in person,” Sophie was sitting opposite me on my bed. Spoon in hand and chocolate fudge ice cream round her mouth.
“I don’t see how it could look any worse in person. The bar is on the floor.”
“Well you had the smell-”
I threw a pillow in her face. “Don’t you dare finish that sentence.”
“Either way I’m sure it’ll all blow over by Monday.”
Sophie was a music scholar. And she was blessed with an ever-present optimism, matching her light blonde hair, and round almost baby-ish face.
“I don’t think this will all blow over by Monday Sophie.” A pause as I dug my spoon into the tub of ben and jerry’s chocolate fudge. If this wasn’t a good enough excuse to eat the entire tub of ice cream, I don’t know what was. “Ughhh, what’s worse is Nate will be completely free of criticism for his whoreish ways. I mean. He’s in bed with her Soph. Bed! He can’t even stand up because he’s naked.”
Sophie nods sagely, eyelashes fluttering. “Men never do.”
I’m pretty sure Sophie just copies words she hears other people say in university, she’s a musical genius and my understanding of this has been that the music side of her brain is so large it has perhaps overtaken some other mental functions.
“You know what you need,”
The way she’s saying it means I’m not going to like it. I can tell. Anything that’s said that enthusiastically I am naturally suspicious of.
“You need to go out this weekend.”
I glare at her from behind the piled high spoon of chocolate ice cream. “Are you out of your mind.”
“No. In fact I am functioning at such a high intellectual capacity that I have a plan. Go out. And fuck his enemy.” A pause. Perhaps a strange entity – a thought – had entered her head and she realized with her last cell of common sense that this was just setting me up for more embarrassment. If only I was that lucky. “No. No. You need to fuck his friend.”
“No. I’m not going.” I stare at Sophie; she blinks innocently up at me.
“You know my father’s hosting a party on Thursday, every prestigious alumna of Edge Bridge is going to be there, he did ask me if I wanted to invite anyone, but maybe-”
“Oh, you’re such a bitch.” I groaned, dropping my head into my arms. Sophie was impossible. Arguing with her was the equivalent of banging my head into a brick wall: painful and I think it even makes me more stupid. I really need other friends.
“But this weekend- I’m going to see my parents.”
“Then no Thursday.”
“But- ugh. I hate you sometimes.”
She gives me a flirty little giggle. I want to bash her head into aforementioned brick wall.
So much for my relaxing weekend.
“Yay! It’ll be so much fun! I’ll come round tonight to help you get ready!”
“Wait Sophie tonight...”
“Yep! Alpha Omega’s house throwing a party, be here at 7 with drinks-” it’s like she could hear my objections already about to spurt out of my lips, because she jumps off the bed, hightailing it to the door.
“Got to go for Fall Recital practice, love ya, bye!” She’s leaving out my apartment, before sticking her head back into the room, “Seven pm! Don’t forget. And um- maybe have a bath or something.”
