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Thankfully, she tosses that one aside, too, and retreats into the closet.
“I don’t need dick,” I argue. “I’m pleasantly dick-free, as a matter of fact.”
She returns with one blue dress, somewhat old-fashioned in style, but at least it covers the important bits unlike the other two. “That’s because you’ve never tried it,” she says, holding it up.
“I’ve... tried it.”
Jenna arches her brow, knowing the truth. “Feeling Peyton Baker’s boner pressing into your hip while slow dancing at the Iowa State Fair to Champagne Supernova isn’t trying it.”
I deflate. She’s right.
Again, Jenna sneers at the dress and tosses it away.
As she strides back to the closet, I reach down and pick it back up, careful to only touch the hanger with my charcoal-blotted hands. A halter top, front-button closures, and a skirt that falls past my knees? I don’t hate it.
And it has pockets!
“What’s wrong with this one?” I ask.
“Not slutty enough,” she says.
“Great. It’s perfect.”
Jenna groans as I escape into the hall with it. “Fine, but you keep the top two buttons open!” she shouts. “If you sneeze, I want to see some nipple!”
I wince at the word sneeze.
Nope. Still not funny.
* * *
I’ve never been down Greek Row before.
I’ve passed by it plenty of times on my way across campus, but I’ve never had a reason to be this far east of the quad. Jenna seems to know her way around, so I keep on her strappy heels as we make our way down the sidewalk.
“I just love the smell of party in the air!” she exclaims. “Don’t you?”
I nod as I plunk behind her in the uncomfortable shoes she made me wear. “Uh-huh...”
“The music in my ears. The bass beneath my step.” She inhales deep and happy sighs it right back out. “It’s going to be a good night.”
I study the street ahead of me. Nearly a dozen large houses line the road, six on each side with giant Greek letters lit up above the entrances, but only one of them is packed tonight.
Alpha Delta Xi.
Jenna spins around and halts in front of me, making me run right into her. I stumble back, somehow staying upright on the sidewalk.
“Huh?” I ask. “What?”
“I said, are you going to at least try to have some fun tonight?” she asks, apparently for a second time.
“Oh.” I force a nod. “Yes. Yes, Jenna, I will try to have some fun tonight.”
“Like, real fun. Actual fun. Drink-in-hand, boy-wrapped-around-pinky fun.”
“You know, the entire concept of fun is subjective?—”
“Heidi.”
