"Well, well, well…looks like Dashie finally got dragged to a college party," a voice sounds behind me, my heart jumping out of my chest as I straighten up. I knew that voice anywhere. "Now her straight-edge life can be sprinkled with a little fun." I whip around to see a tall, slightly tanned young man in a navy blue checkered shirt and dark wash jeans, his sun-touched brown hair combed to one side and the toe of his black Converses gleaming dully in the light of the first floor.
"You're an asshole, you know that, Soarin?" I roll my eyes and chuckle, punching him in the arm forcefully and then tucking a bit of hair behind my ear.
"Yeah, but you should expect that after so long," he laughs back and punches me back, placing one hand in his pocket and smirking.
It was true; I should expect that. Soarin Mosconi, arguably the most honest boy this side of campus and the cockiest freshman around. We met in Calculus I when the teacher made the class participate in one of those idiotic icebreakers so that she could learn our names and something about us. Soarin's turn was a little after mine, and he stated that he could put both feet behind his head and lift himself on his hands at the same time. Naturally, most students thought he was bluffing, and they were thoroughly amazed when he actually was able to do it. We talked after class, me calling him a freak for his ability and him calling me a weirdo for the collection of beer bottles I created from my dad's many trips to the liquor store. Although I have amassed over 120 bottles, my dad is not an alcoholic; he just enjoys "tasting what the world has to offer", as he would say whenever I asked. Over the first semester, Soarin and I grew to be the best of friends, sharing each other's jokes and complaining about schoolwork and teachers. The second semester started, and he had a different class schedule than I did, but they ended at the same time, so we could talk between and after classes. I was tolerant of his faults and he was tolerant of mine. In short, he was a fantastic and infuriating person to be around.
"I'm assuming this is all Pinkie's fault?" he extends his hand to the side with a knowing gaze, only nodding his head as I nod mine. "Figured. She would be the only one to own a dress in that style." He looks at me with a chuckle and a sigh, sitting down against the wall as I sit against the opposite wall and gaze at my feet.
"I don't get it. Why were her pleas so effective this time? I've been able to hold her off before, but it's like she was aiming a battering ram at my head." I make a fist and pound it into my other palm several times, each hit accompanied by a verbal bam.
"Maybe you wanted to go to this…" he looked at the door and laughed, "eloquent soiree."
"Pfft, and you came to the party to meet the Queen of France."
"Who says I didn't? The queen is a party animal when she gets the chance to be."
"What would she be doing here at the college anyway?"
"Probably checking up on the dean to make sure he doesn't screw up. I mean, after what happened a few days ago…"
"Wait, what happened?" I say eagerly, getting on my hands and knees and crawling over to him.
"I don't know if I should tell you Dashie," he teases, punching me in the arm, "I don't want to ruin your innocence with the terrible, unsavory events of the head of our school."
"Really, Soarin?" I simply raise an eyebrow and smirk, which causes him to immediately break out into laughter and lean back against the wall. It is a loud, harsh, high-pitched cackle, and I can't help but join him. Hey, even ugly laughs can be contagious.
"O-OK fine, I'll tell," he manages to get out through sporadic breaths as he puts a hand over his chest. He calms down and then lowers his voice as I lean closer. "So I was walking by the dean's office when I heard a drawer closing inside. Naturally I wanted to take a look, so I placed my body against the wall, poking my head out so that I could look through the window. The dean was looking from side to side, taking something out of his pocket and sitting down at his desk. I couldn't read what was on it, but I'm pretty sure that it was a Playboy magazine or some other magazine like that." With another laugh, he added, "I even took pictures so that I could have proof. The girl on the cover was really pretty…and totally naked! Wowza!"
"You would think that was cool," I roll my eyes and place my hands in my lap. "But seriously, the dean was reading porn? We better not let anyone else know that, or else he'll get fired for sure."
"I don't plan to tell anyone…that is, unless I have to blackmail him for a higher grade or something."
"You'd really do that to him: blackmail? That is low, even for you." I shake my head and face-palm, imagining Soarin walking up to the dean's office with the pictures, a smirk on his face as he demands that his history grade be raised from a C to a B. He just doesn't have a head for people or dates; the numbers and names always get jumbled in his head, and I have to help him study often.
"Hey, a guy's gotta do what a guy's gotta do," he shrugs nonchalantly and looks up at the ceiling, admiring the patterns in the tiles as I admire the patterns in the carpet on the floor.
"So, why are you really here, queenly reasons aside?" I ask, sitting up straighter and adjusting my dress over my legs. The air-conditioning was starting to get to me, my skin forming goose-bumps as I tried to rub my arms for warmth.
"Well, Alpha Beta Delta came here…" Soarin started.
"The fraternity that you have been pining to get into?" I question, moving a bit closer to him so I wasn't directly in front of the air conditioning vent that was conveniently positioned across from me on the other wall.
"Yeah, that one," he said as he let out a sigh and looked towards the door. "Well, it turns out that initiation includes doing a keg stand and jumping off the top of the building, and I do not want to be a part of that. More than 20 initiates are in there right now, hanging upside down with tubes in their mouth or preparing to jump off the 4th story balcony."
"Oh god, really?! That is ridiculous!" I say concerned, "Nobody should have to go through that to secure a spot in Greek life."
"I know, right? No part of my glorious figure is going to be messed up tonight. I worked too hard on my hair and my clothing style."
"Oh, thank goodness. I thought you actually had morals." I laugh snidely and jump back as the door slams against the wall and a drunken girl, one shoe off and her bra showing, stumbles a few steps before passing out on the rough carpet. I poke her with my foot gently, her body not moving, and turn my head quickly towards Soarin.
"Is she OK? Should we help her?" My voice cracks a little as the sound of my heartbeat fills my head. I turn my attention towards the girl again and see her chest moving up and down very slowly. At least it was moving.
"Yeah, we should probably get her inside. After all, we wouldn't want these boozehounds to have their party ruined, now would we?" Soarin asked, his words playful but his eyes hiding a sort of genuine concern for the girl. "Is there even an empty area in there where she can rest?"
"The couch that I was sitting on should be clear by now. We can lay her there. And remember, on her side, not her face or back."
"Yeah, yeah. I know what to do."
I nod with an eye roll, hearing the nasally student advisor go over why drinking and drugs are bad for the "general health of all students, faculty, and accompanying guests" in my head. I agreed with their policies, but after the second time of hearing the same lecture, it had become boring. It didn't help change the student's perspectives either, as evident by the party inside the lounge still going strong.
Crawling over to the girl, I take her heart rate and slip my arm under her head, making sure to support it so that it wouldn't loll to the side. Soarin crawls over a few moments later and slips his arms under her shoulder blades and back. Standing up slowly so that my heels didn't twist the wrong way and break, I help steady the girl's limp body and carefully walk with Soarin into the dark, loud, seizure-inducing storm.
Luckily, my instincts are correct and the couch is empty, the two couples nowhere to be seen. We lay the girl on the stained cushions – a soft area away from most of the noise was better than a clean dangerous area - and watch her arm drape over the front, the placid features of her face smudged with makeup.
"I think both of us should just leave!" I yell over the music, cupping a hand to my mouth. "Maybe play some video games after we change!"
"Yeah, that sounds like a good idea!" Soarin yells back, "Since I didn't get accepted into the frat, I just have my normal housing!"
"That's good! I'll meet you there! Do you have the new Super Smash Brothers?"
"Hell yeah! I have only played a little bit of it, so you finally have a small chance to beat me!"
"Ha! I will destroy you!"
"In your dreams!"
I punch him in the arm, and he punches me back, both of us laughing for a little bit before he waves goodbye, turns around and leaves. Nothing that we had said would ever matter to the people grinding on each other, but to me, it meant that I could have fun for the first time in a while. I turn towards the door and start to make my way out as well when a cold hand grabs my wrist, the nails digging into the red scars harshly.
"Let me go, Pinkie!" I yell loudly, not even having to turn around to know that my roommate is standing right behind me, a half-empty bottle of tequila in her free hand and a torn skirt that showed the right side of her underwear. I yank my arm away, but her daggers made sure that I wouldn't leave without crimson casualties.
"Nuuu, stay wif *hic* meeeeee…!" Pinkie slurs as she spins me around, and I can see that her hair is a tangle of knots, her face looking more like a Jackson Pollok painting than a makeup application. "U gogssta have funi stuff…herrr *hic* drunk thish tahap yuuu r *hic* relasss and shuuttt!" She swings her arm over to me, offering me the tequila bottle, and I push it away politely. She swings it more violently at me, and again I refuse, backing up a little. The bottle is thrown directly at me the third time, causing me to duck so that it doesn't take my head clean off, and I hear the familiar shatter of glass on carpet.