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Grace was a thorough stylist, and had added a pair of strappy sandals as well as some gold hoop earrings, to my ‘mandated wear’ pile. In short time, I had the entire ensemble on, clasped and zipped and walked across the room to check myself out in the mirror.
“Shit,” I said under my breath. I looked… hot. Really hot. Was this the aftereffects of Simon on my skin, this newfound confidence?
Grace smiled with satisfaction, and affirmed, “You are like Gigi Hadid hot right now and I could kind of murder you if I didn’t love you so much.”
“Thanks. Wouldn’t have been possible without you almost literally dragging me out of bed,” I joked.
“Worth it.”
Though I was reluctant to admit as much, she was right. It felt good to do something simple, straightforward, something as normal as getting dolled up and going out with your sorority sisters. Unlike everything about Simon, it wasn’t complicated.
My hand darted up just in time to catch a lipstick Grace had chucked in my direction.
“On. Now,” she ordered.
I swiped it on, a deep cherry red that popped against my undertones. I was a little more prepared, seconds later, for the mascara that came flying my way. With that in hand, I applied it blindly, no mirror needed.
“Anything else?” I asked my roommate-cum-stylist.
“Nope,” she replied. “You’re like, not one of those girls who needs makeup.”
I smiled at her compliment. It was convenient that I apparently, didn’t ‘need’ makeup, as there was no time left to apply any.
“Come on, come on!” she cried. “You’re ready, let’s get downstairs.”
All dressed and looking fly, we raced to the door, grabbed the special cases for our phones that had leather straps attached which turned them into purses, complete with ID holders on the back and everything, and made our way down the stairs, carefully tottering in our heels.
“We’re here,” Grace called out, her voice resounding through the halls.
“Hurry up!” someone replied. “We’re taking shots.”
By echolocation, we made our way to the hangout room, where the girls were indeed taking shot after shot. So it was gonna be one of those nights.
All thirty of them or so took one glance at me and Grace and shrieked.
“Oh my fucking God, you look so good I could literally murder you,” said one.
“You are wearing the shit out of that dress,” called another in my direction.
Grace raised her hands, humbly accepting the praise. With a coy smile, she said, “Thank you, ladies. The entertainment has arrived.”
We descended into the throng and were immediately handed shots, while all around us girls pulled out their iPhones, snapping pics of one another. It had the feel of a very loving zoo, except the animals took pictures of the other animals.
A few songs — and a few shots — later, Beth came up to me and poked my bare stomach with her pointer finger.
“Someone is getting wild tonight,” she commented.
I deflected, replying, “Grace dressed me.”
“You’re welcome!” Grace shouted across the room. She had infamously good hearing and could hear her name in any crowd.
“So I guess you’re trying to hook up tonight?” Beth asked me.
I paled. “Oh, no no, definitely not. Like I said, this whole outfit was Grace’s call, not mine.”
Max had made her way to us at this point, and she interjected, “Come on, Beth. Catya is never trying to hookup.”
I nodded vigorously, supporting Max’s very fair point. Rarely was I in the mood to hookup, and most especially not after the day I’d had.
“Don’t be such a nun,” Beth complained. “Not while you’re dressed like a total man-eater.” And then, “I’m not, like, shaming you or anything, I just feel like you might as well, I dunno, live life. Suck a dick. Y’know?”
I laughed. It was hard not to laugh at Beth. Her sentences were never fully formed, and her thoughts, while dirty, were always motivated by the need to help other people. She just thought that being helpful meant getting her friends laid.
“Oh, let her be a nun,” Max replied.
I nodded once more, but inside… inside I was, well, bothered. If only I could tell them the truth. I wasn’t a nun, far from it. Just that morning, I’d fucked an older man, our coach, like a dog in heat. Usually I didn’t mind them making fun of my sedate proclivities, but today the jokes were so far from reality that it was annoying. It reminded me, once more, that I couldn’t tell any of my friends about the very important thing that had just happened.
“All right,” Grace said, always the party ringleader. “Leave Catya alone, and take some more shots, you sons of bitches!”
With those words of wisdom, we were off to the races.
Chapter 19
Catya
Frats, generally speaking, were a different beast at every school. At one, a particular frat may be the party house, while at another college that same frat, with the same name and associated with the same organization, could be the boring house that never goes out.
