Page 1 of Taken By the Fae

ChapterOne

Historically, the first week of the fall semester of college is one giant party filled with unhealthy amounts of alcohol and takeout, staying up all night, and trudging through lectures grossly hungover.

Which is why I find myself squished between my best friends, Allison and Oliver, in the back of an Uber, heading to my first—and last, if I can help it—party of senior year.

We’re dropped off outside a student rental in one of the nicer neighborhoods in the city where music vibrates from the three-story gray stone house.

Allison is already swaying her curvy, jean short-clad hips to Arctic Monkeys’s “Do I Wanna Know” that’s blaring inside as we make our way across the lawn, the trees we pass strung with twinkling lights, casting a soft glow across the property.

An empty beer can crunches under my ankle boot before Allison loops her arm through mine, her floral perfume tickling my nostrils as we walk toward the house. She runs her free hand through her shoulder-length golden blond waves and shoots me a smile. Oliver, who’s dressed in a gray T-shirt and black jeans with his favorite loafers, walks ahead of us and opens the door. Students pack the house; no one will notice a few more coming in, but it’s still weird walking into a stranger’s place without knocking. Evidently, I’m not well-versed in house party etiquette.

We make our way through the foyer, and my eyes lift to the vaulted ceiling while I follow the others, with an inward cringe at the overwhelming stench of body spray and weed. Oliver leads us into an open-concept kitchen with stainless-steel appliances and granite countertops—most of which are covered with empty beer bottles and pizza boxes.

A small group of people have gathered in here, away from the aggressive volume of the music. Oliver hollers at the guy manning the keg, throwing his arm around his shoulders before he grabs two Solo cups, filling them with beer, and handing them to Allison and me. The guys spark a conversation about a new album from some band I’ve never heard of, while Allison and I exchange a glance, her tawny eyes reflecting the boredom I’m sure is in mine.

Allison leans up and pushes the russet curls out of Oliver’s face, kissing his cheek—more than their typical PDA. I think they’re worried about making me feel like a third wheel, but I really don’t mind. “Ro and I are going to dance,” she announces, and then we’re moving again, this time into the living room where people are singing and dancing.

I gulp down the beer, cringing at the bitter aftertaste, and follow Allison’s lead, moving to the beat of the music by shifting the weight between my feet. She grins at me, throwing her head back to belt out the words as her merlot corset top rides up, exposing a sliver of her stomach. I laugh at her dramatic display, joining in when the only part of the song I know comes.

Allison and I have been friends since freshman year, when we ended up roommates. While we look similar enough to be sisters—though my blond hair is longer and more white than golden—our personalities are total opposites. Allison is an outgoing, carefree English major who loves to party, whereas I’d be just as content to spend my Friday night in the library. My education is the most important thing to me; I know what I want for my future, and I’ll do whatever it takes to get it. Right now, that’s a bachelor’s degree in business management. And this party is supposed to act as a distraction from my nerves over my upcoming internship interview. I have to nail it. To impress my mentor and increase my chances of receiving an offer of employment straight out of college. I need an income to pay my parents back for helping with my tuition over the last four years.

“Aurora, hey! I thought I saw you guys come in!”

I swallow the last of my beer, turning toward the voice and smiling at Danielle, who lives on the same floor of the dorm as us. She’s also in my program, so we’ve had several classes together over the years. I’ve told her on multiple occasions she should’ve majored in fashion, and her stunning pastel violet cocktail dress that she no doubt sewed herself is only further testament to that. It makes me feel slightly underdressed with my beige cardigan, black tank top, and high-waisted jean shorts, but we can’t all be fashionistas.

She grins at us, her smile bright against the crimson lipstick she’s wearing; based on the flush in her cheeks and alcohol on her breath, she’s been here a while. “If I knew you were coming, we could’ve shared a ride!”

Allison offers a brief smile before grabbing my empty cup. “We need a refill. Be right back.” She’s weaving through the crowd before I can open my mouth. I frown at her abrupt exit, wondering what the hell that was about.

“Are you having fun?”

My attention returns to Danielle. “Time of my life,” I remark dryly. “Can’t you tell?”

She laughs, tossing her straight chestnut hair over her shoulder. “Funny.” Glancing past me, her cobalt-blue eyes light up. “I’ll catch you later, okay?”

“Sounds good.”

An hour passes in a blur of drinking and dancing. My hair clings to the back of my neck and my cheeks are warm. I break away from the crowd and leave Allison chatting with a group of girls from her program while I search for the bathroom.

“Upstairs,” a deep, unfamiliar voice says. I turn toward it, my stomach dipping at his deep, grass-green eyes as they roam over me. He has dark lashes, sharp cheekbones, and a charming smile… that I’m totally staring at.

I force my gaze back to his. “Huh?”

He chuckles, tipping his head back against the wall so the sandy brown hair shifts away from his face. It’s perfectly tousled, shorter on the sides and longer on top. “The bathroom. It’s upstairs. You’re the third person to come by here looking for one in the last half hour.” He points to a set of stairs a few feet away. “There’s one on this level, but someone clogged it hours ago.”

I wrinkle my nose at the last part. “Gross. Thanks.”

“Sure.” He wipes his palm on his jeans before sticking it out to me. “I’m Grant.”

“Aurora,” I offer, shaking it. His grip is firm, cool from holding the glass bottle of beer.

“I know.” His lips quirk. “We’ve had a few classes together.”

I pull back, my cheeks heating. “I… That’s right. Sorry.” He seems vaguely familiar; I’ve probably seen him in passing more than once.

Grant’s grin widens and his voice is light with humor when he says, “Don’t worry about it. I’m not very memorable.”

It’s my turn to laugh, because Grant is easily the hottest guy here. “Right. Have you looked in a mirror, like, ever?”Fuck me. Did I just say that out loud?

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