Page 2 of Twisted Fate

“Did you get homework dumped on you this week, too?” I ask Allison.

She nods without looking up and pushes her wavy blond hair away from her round face. She must’ve had an early class this morning because she skipped her makeup routine.

“It’s not fair,” she mumbles, continuing her typing rampage.

Oliver hollers and shoots his fist into the air, startling both Allison and me.

“What the hell, Oliver?” Allison huffs as she closes her laptop.

He looks up from his phone. “We’re going to a party. Tonight. Get ready. Right now.”

My stomach flutters. “The one off campus?” Was he talking about the one Grant invited me to?

“Hell, yeah. C’mon!” He jumps off my bed and shoves his hand through his sandy brown curls. He puts his shoes back on while humming under his breath before standing upright. Oliver towers over my five-foot-three frame, but he doesn’t have much muscle on him.

Allison and I exchange looks, trying not to laugh at his adorable, childlike behavior.

“You’re awfully excited for this party,” I tease.

“The first kegger is always the craziest. It’s the best party of the year. Now quit your stalling and put on some clothes that don’t make you look like a homeless person.” Apparently Allison’s shorts and crop top are sufficient for this party, considering he doesn’t comment on them.

In the small, three-piece bathroom, I change into jean shorts and a flowy tank top and shrug on a cardigan as I second-guess going to this party. I’m not one to frequent them throughout the semester, but I’ve tagged along with Allison and Oliver on a few occasions. I always have a good time; I would tonight, but Ishouldstay home.

Screw it.

It’s my senior year of college. I want to start it off with a bang.

The cab drops the three of us off at the curb of a student property on the less urban side of Rockdale. The music from inside is vibrating through the house, and Allison is already swaying her hips to whatever pop song is playing.

The house is huge, which is not what I expected for a student rental in the city. Where most are run-down bungalows, this place is three stories of gray stone. Several trees cover the yard, all glowing with the soft hues of twinkling lights strung through the branches. An empty beer can crunches under my foot as we’re walking across the lawn.

We approach the door, and Oliver, without knocking, lets himself in. Far too many people fill the house to notice more entering, so Allison and I follow him. We make our way through the hallway, and my eyes flick to the vaulted ceiling before we make it into the open concept kitchen, furnished to the nines with stainless steel appliances and granite countertops—most of which are covered in empty beer bottles and pizza boxes.

Oliver shouts at the guy manning the keg near the French doors which lead to the backyard where more people are dancing, and the two of them spark up some conversation about a party they were at last semester.

Allison and I grab a couple of beers, leave Oliver talking to his friend, and migrate into the living room where people are singing and dancing.

“Allison! Aurora!” We both spin around at the high-pitched squeal of Danielle, a girl from my program who lives on our floor. Her cheeks are rosy; the beer in her hand probably isn’t her first.

“Danielle.” I smile as she clinks her bottle against mine, then Allison’s. “How’s it going?”

Her eyes shift between Allison and me. “Great! This place is packed!”

She’s right. I wrinkle my nose at the overwhelming smell of pizza, beer, and a mixture of perfume, cologne, and body odor.

Allison nods and takes a drink of her beer. I flick my eyes over to her, wondering why she’s glaring at Danielle.

“We’ll catch up later, okay?” I say.

“Sure.” Danielle giggles. “Have fun, ladies.”

When she’s out of earshot, I turn to Allison. “What was that about?”

She shrugs. “Nothing. Let’s dance.” She plasters a smile on her face as if it’s been practiced, and I frown before following her through the crowd. Allison and I stick together, dancing side by side, chatting with the people around us, while Oliver hangs with the guys in the kitchen.

Hours pass in a blur of drinking and dancing, talking over the music. The country songs aren’t anything I’m a huge fan of, but the beer I’m tossing back makes it easier to enjoy.

I manage to break away from the crowd and leave Allison with a group of girls from our building while I look for the bathroom.

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