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If I had to guess, the frat house has at least twenty bedrooms, maybe even more depending on the layout. The porch wraps around from the front and down the sides of the house, where there isn’t as much room to move. Music thumps out the doors and windows, a rap beat pounding in my ears, as we approach the long line in front of us. Black and orange Halloween decorations round out the look of the house, though whoever was in charge of decorating didn’t give a shit about the execution. Abby would have had a fit if we wrapped the railings so haphazardly in paper streamers that look clumpy up close.
“I thought we were invited,” I say to Jordan, wondering why we have to wait in line.
“We were.” She shoots a smile over her shoulder at me. “There’s always a wait to get in. But it’s worth it.”
“You bet your ass it is,” Shannon says, her face beaming with excitement. “Everyone who’s anyone will be here tonight. It’s all anyone has been able to talk about this week.”
I try not to laugh or roll my eyes. It’s just a party. They’re acting like celebrities will be attending tonight. I mean, seriously, they need to get a grip.
The line inches along the pavement, until almost twenty minutes pass, and we’re climbing the stairs. We come to a halt in front of a good-looking guy, dressed as a pimp with a cane and top hat, real money shoved in the pockets of his black jacket. Lipstick is on his collar, spreading up his neck, where he has lip marks in different shades.
He’s hunched over on a stool on the porch, shuffling money in his hands. Ignoring us, he stuffs some of it in a box next to him, and then leans back against the house, his eyes now fixed on us. Scanning every inch of our bodies, he takes us in for a few seconds too long.
His lecherous gaze makes my stomach churn. Jordan was right about these guys hunting their prey, because that’s exactly how he’s looking at us. A group of guys, off to his right, give us the same once over, all of them exchanging some kind of silent communication.
“Give me your hand,” he says.
I’m not sure which one of us he’s talking to.
Jordan grabs my hand and pushes me toward the dark-haired boy. “This is my sister, Jemma,” she tells him. “It’s her first time. Be nice to her.”
A strange look crosses his face, and then he cups his hands around his mouth and yells, “Fresh meat.”
The boys on the roof above us howl, and this time, I can’t stop myself from laughing at how stupid all of this is. A group of guys on the porch also howl in unison, so I’m assuming they all belong to the fraternity.
He grabs my hand, and I tug it away from him. “What are you doing? Is this some kind of weird initiation thing?”
He laughs, a smile on his lips, and then he looks at Jordan. “You sure she’s cool?”
Not the least bit wounded by his comment, I snicker.
Jordan steps forward, her hands on her hips, and his eyes follow. She cups his knee with her hand and smiles. “Give her a break, Romeo.”
Romeo? I try so damn hard not to laugh. A guy who calls himself Romeo just insulted me. This night is becoming priceless by the second. From the looks of Romeo, he’s not all that charming. More like a dick. But a cute one.
Romeo nods, and then takes Jordan’s hand, placing a green stamp on her skin. I strain to get a better look, but before I can, he commands me to give him my hand, and presses the same stamp to my skin. Three Greek letters embed onto the top of my hand.
After Romeo stamps each of our hands, he calls over four of his fraternity brothers, who lead us into the house. The music is even louder inside, a classic rock beat mixed with a new rap song now cranking through the speakers. A large bass in the corner pounds, the vibration from the music sending a tremor up my legs. In the massive living room, which has been converted into a dance floor, people wearing various costumes surround us. They grind on each other, gyrating to the music.
Girls in string bikinis, with their asses on full display, practically hump a few guys in the middle of the floor. I’m almost embarrassed for them with how much skin they’re showing. Their tops are so small, paired with the fact the material is white, and you can see their nipples under the strobe lights flashing across the ceiling. I’m sure they have no clue their bodies are so out there, on display. Or maybe they do and couldn’t care less.
