“Should we be going in here?” I ask, suddenly nervous as Carter reaches for the handle.
“Absolutely. It just says that so only members of the frat enter.”
“Oh, okay,” I say, but something doesn’t feel right.
I tell myself I’m being silly as Carter opens the door and leads me inside. At first, it’s hard to see. The lighting is really low, and the entrance of the room is filled with smoke from a fog machine. I take a mouthful of it and start coughing as Carter pulls me forward.
I clear my lungs at the same time as we emerge from the fog-filled entrance, blinking against the sting in my eyes. If I had to guess, I’d say that this was some sort of game room. Couches line the perimeter of the room, and beneath the window at the far end are what I think are an air hockey table and a pool table, both draped in black tablecloths. Flickering jack-o’-lanterns cover their surfaces, providing the only real light and casting everything in an eerie glow.
The vibe in the room is completely different from downstairs, as if once we closed the door behind us we were cut off from the rest of the world.
That unsettles me.
The music here couldn’t be more different from the lighthearted beats downstairs where I was dancing with my friends. This melody is slow and sultry, dark in a way that makes my skin prickle and my nerves tighten.
There’s not a dance floor in this space, per se, but that’s not stopping a handful of couples from moving together, their bodies and limbs tangled enough to make heat shoot to my cheeks and ears.
The more I look around, the more I get eyefuls of acts I wish I hadn’t. There are pairs, and sometimes even threes, pressed up against walls and lying on the couches making out everywhere. There’s a couple in the corner that I’m sure are doing a lot more than kissing, and someone recording them on their phone while they do it. I can’t imagine that’s consensual until the girl looks up from the boy, who’s now sucking on her neck, and blows a kiss to the guy filming her.
A sour knot settles in my gut.
I don’t want to be here.
Backing up a step, I bump into Carter. He steadies me, but then he doesn’t let go. Instead, he leans down and kisses my neck.
I rear away, my pulse hammering in my chest, a jolt of fear running through me.
“What are you doing?”
“Hey, it’s okay. You just need to relax and enjoy the vibe.”
Enjoy the vibe? I don’t think so.
I was so stupid not to go straight back to Tate and Kendra.
“I’m sorry, this was a mistake,” I say, and try to brush past him toward the exit. But he blocks me and grabs hold of my arm. Hard.
“Let go,” I say, and yank free.
He puts his hands in the air. There’s a touch of glassiness to his eyes that I didn’t notice before. He seemed sober, but was I wrong?
“I just thought you might be down.”
“Well, you thought wrong,” I snap.
His glassy gaze gets a hard edge that gives me a shiver of unease. He takes an aggressive step forward, forcing me back.
“Did I?” he asks. “Because you were giving me all the signals. And showing up dressed like that?—”
His gaze slides over me from head to toe in a way that makes me feel gross. I want to wrap my cloak around me to shield myself. The corner of his mouth hitches up in the same cockeyed smile I thought was cute fifteen minutes ago, but now I think it’s anything but.
“Don’t pretend you didn’t know exactly what you were doing.”
“Excuse me?” I say, anger starting to override fear or embarrassment.
I may be inexperienced in a lot of areas, but I’m not a pushover. If this guy even knew the ways I could take him out, he’d be peeing himself right now. Instead, he’s looking down on me with a condescending smile like he’s the one with power.
He’s wrong.
