AllFreeNovel
Share Us
They share an intense moment of something—I’m not sure what—before Bash places his palms on both sides of her face and kisses her as if no one is in the room with them. Now, I’m the one trying not to roll my eyes. Clay and Jessica are already in their usual lip lock, mirroring Bash and Tori. I need an escape.
“I’ll catch you love birds later,” I say to the group and seek out the beer.
I’m not supposed to drink until the postseason is over. As our team captain, Bash yells at me all the time about my diet. So what if I put on a few extra pounds over the past year? In my defense, I need them with all the hits I have to take. Coach and Bash don’t see it that way. That is my excuse, and I am sticking to it. Plus, this is a party. What kind of loser would stand here and sip water? Not me.
One of my brothers waits on people behind the long, oak bar on the far side of the kitchen. With a single nod, he knows what I want and slides a solo cup in front of me. I tip the cup in thanks and chug down half the liquid.
Our house is huge, with vaulted ceilings, a large eat-in kitchen, a dining room large enough to host an army, and an endless number of rooms that make it hard to find the one I share with Mark when I get too hammered to see five feet in front of me. It’s easy to get lost in this place if you don’t know where you’re going. My grandmother had a house like this, with hallways that go on for days and old-fashioned crown molding that reminds me of another time.
Even with all the space, this house is not big enough for sixty dudes and the revolving door of women that come through here. Most of the guys are slobs and forget to clean up after themselves. Luca runs a tight ship when it comes to the cleanliness of this house. But some of our roommates are a lot harder for him to manage. It’s not like any of us signed up to be babysitters. I joined a fraternity to meet women and party. The scholarship is also a nice perk of my membership.
Dodging a few girls in opera masks and various shades of red and green dresses, I walk into the living room, pounding my beer. The brim of the cup pushes my mask up slightly, forcing me to pull it back down to conceal my identity. Not that it would be hard to figure out. I’m the tallest guy in the house, and even though some of my brothers are close in height, my muscular build and the few extra inches gives me away.
In this suit, my chest and arms are thick and tight against the fabric, the material too restricting to allow myself to be comfortable without the proper amount of alcohol. I’m lucky I was able to find a jacket on such short notice. I’d outgrown the one I had for our last fraternity function, which didn’t leave many options. Even Mark’s was too small for me to squeeze into without ripping it to shreds like The Hulk.
Doing my best to avoid the girls in barely there dresses, with cleavage spilling out from their tops and their skin matted with sweat from dancing, I keep my eyes on the door and stand with my back pressed against the wall. The music vibrates the floor, sending a tremor up my legs and back. Somehow, I find it relaxing, and people watch, as I drink my beer.
A few songs go by before everything changes. Even the DJ scratches the record wrong, throwing off the tempo he mixed when a girl walks through the front door. There’s something about her. Dressed in a floor length pale blue gown and an elaborate gold and purple mask, she could stop traffic. In this case, she caused most of the people in eyesight to stop and notice her arrival.
My heart pounds against my chest, beating faster with each step she takes toward me. She appears to be alone. Despite the mask that covers most of her face, I can tell without seeing the rest that what is beneath is just as beautiful as what I can see. She has long, blonde curls pinned up and fall from various places, framing her face.
Who is she? The question of the hour.
She scans the room, the mask shielding her eyes, giving away no indication of her next move. Is she meeting a date? A girl this beautiful would never come to a party alone. Men on campus would fight each other for a chance with her. I would be one of them. So, why don’t I recognize her? Between football and frat parties, I know just about every girl at our school.
I cannot stop staring at the masked girl and the blue fabric that hugs her delicate but curvy frame. Her skin is like alabaster, and even without touching her, I imagine how smooth her skin would be and think of how she’d react from my touch. Then, she locks onto me, holding me in her clutches. I feel it. For a split second, what my mother had told me about sends a rush of adrenaline through my body, catapulting me toward her.
My mother was right. She’s always right. Just one look is all it takes to feel that connection to this strange girl. Once her eyes wander away from mine, and she reappraises the room, I get this feeling in the pit of my stomach that she has other plans. But mine include claiming her for the night.
She moves further into the crowd that has now resumed their dancing and grinding on each other, too consumed to pay attention to the masked girl any longer. But all I can think about is her. I follow behind her, through the masses, and down the long hallway at the back of the house. Because of its size, the house can be somewhat intimidating to those who are not familiar with the layout. I assume she knows where this path leads and is baiting me into a trap, or she is genuinely lost and trying to get away from me.
Either way, I cannot stop myself from hunting her down, like a beast stalking its prey. I push forward, past the couples making out in the hall, determined to catch up to the girl. Every few feet, she glances over her shoulder, almost as if she’s running away from me, or maybe even waiting for me to catch up. But the people in the way make it hard for me to move any faster.
If this was part of her plan to lose me, she underestimated her opponent in this game, though I have a feeling this is what she had intended with the way she looks at me with a purpose. She smiles at me one last time before she turns to the left. I return the smile, even though she can’t see it now, because I know I can take my time to get to her.
Soon enough, my masked beauty will realize she has hit a dead end. And I will be there by the time she turns around to correct her mistake. Then, we can play another game, one on my terms.
Ella
Mrs. Feighry leads me by the hand to her estate, through the hedges that divide our properties.
The shrubs create a thick wall that reaches high enough that it reminds me of a castle. Unlike my house that is crumbling because of neglect, Mrs. F’s house has the same pristine shine that mine once had. I’d never wandered onto this side of the wall after my family had sold it to the new owners.
I was never curious enough about my previous neighbors even though they were more reclusive than my family. People in town would speculate who they thought lived there. I suppose my parents had known who owned the house, but they never said a word. The main house and its grounds are not visible from the street with the gate closed and locked, making it impenetrable to outsiders.
My eyes glaze over the monstrous stone front and manicured walkways that lead to the entrance. “How do you keep up with this place on your own?”
“I hired a lawn service to tend to the grounds, but I do all the cleaning and cooking myself. My husband did most of the work when we lived in North Carolina. He was good with his hands.”
I knew her Southern twang sounded familiar. It’s hard to forget when she sounds so much like my dad. Mom was a Northerner and had never even left this area until she met my dad. Sometimes, she would bust on my father for the way he said certain words. I thought it was funny. She probably even did it to give me a good laugh when I was a kid.
“My dad was from North Carolina,” I mutter, keeping pace with Mrs. F. “What part are you from?”
“I was born and raised in Raleigh—”
“My dad was from Raleigh. What are the odds of that?”
“Raleigh is the second largest city in North Carolina, so I’d say the chances are high. Most people claim to be from the big cities like Raleigh or Charlotte when they live just outside the city lines.”
