“I can’t believe they actually decorated all the rooms like that,” Tate says.
“I’ve never seen anything like it,” I say with a grin.
“So you’re doing all right?” she asks nervously.
“Absolutely! All this is just . . .” I’m at a loss for words.
Kendra’s smile is smug. “Glad we twisted your arm to get you out?”
I nod.
“Good, because once I cool off, we’re going to go dance!”
My stomach drops. I have zero clue how to dance.
Seeing my face, Kendra laughs. “Don’t worry, girl. We’ve got you. I can promise you no one here is going to care about your dancing skills . . . or lack thereof.”
“Hey,” I say, not sure if I should be offended or not.
Kendra just grins wider. “I need something to drink,” she announces, her head on a swivel until she spots what she’s looking for and asks if we want anything.
I eye all the red plastic cups, and then the keg, and shake my head. I’m tempting fate enough by being here. I’m not touching whatever is in those cups.
When both Tate and I decline, she heads off with a finger wave, the furry tail pinned to the back of her dress swishing with every step. Tate and I chat lightly, but my attention keeps drifting over the backyard and partygoers. Everything feels new and exciting, like I’ve stumbled into another world.
A couple times, a few guys drift over, lingering near Tate and me. Tate ignores them completely, but I can’t help casting coy looks their way. Not because I’m interested, but because they’re just . . . there. One time, one gets bold enough to cut into our conversation, but Tate politely but firmly shoots him down, telling him we’re just having a fun girl’s night out and aren’t interested. I’m honestly surprised when he smiles good-naturedly, and then with a plastic cup salute, saunters off.
Maybe college guys are more evolved than I thought?
When Kendra returns, I’m relieved to see her holding a can of soda instead of one of the red cups. She offers me a drink and I take a big swig, letting the sugar-filled coolness slide down my throat.
“All right, ladies, you ready?” Kendra asks.
Tate and I nod.
Tate bounces excitedly on the balls of her feet. “Which room should we go to?”
“Any one but that clown one,” I say with a shiver.
“Agreed,” Kendra laughs, and then turns to lead us back into the house, which is somehow even busier than it was when we arrived.
We have to snake through the mass of partygoers single file, holding on to each other’s hands so we don’t get separated. Kendra stops when we reach a room that’s crowded but not wall-to-wall bodies.
This one is actually my favorite so far. It’s decorated in a gothic theme, with fake spiderwebs hanging over the chandelier in the middle of the room, and plastic candelabras on the unlit fireplace mantel. One wall is completely taken up by floor-to-ceiling bookshelves. Flickering lanterns are interspersed between books that look untouched for ages, their thick layer of dust proof enough. Hung on the walls are cockeyed antique pictures of severe-looking men and women, their eyes seemingly following us around the room wherever we go. And a thin layer of fog covers the ground. It’s spooky and interesting, and I’m having serious trouble imagining frat guys setting it up.
“These decorations are seriously cool,” I say, raising my voice so Tate and Kendra can hear me.
Tate nods. “The guys’ sister sorority helps them decorate every year. I think they do most of the work.”
Kendra rolls her eyes at that. “Typical. The women do the heavy lifting, the men get the credit.” She waves a hand through the air. “But enough about that. Let’s get out there.”
Grabbing my hand, she drags me into the crowd, where partygoers are moving and twisting to the music pumping through the speakers.
When we reach the center of the chaos, I freeze.
It’s one thing being on the sidelines, watching the action unfold, but it’s a totally different experience being in the thick of it. In a way, it felt like I was invisible before, just an interested spectator, taking it all in. Now I feel exposed.
Kendra and Tate start dancing, their moves fun and fluid, big smiles on their faces as they sway and dip to the beat, clearly having the time of their lives.
