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As we walked through the long front entryway that was packed with people, I tried to ignore everyone who was looking at us.
“Maybe we should get one drink,” I muttered to Jenna.
“Really?”
“It might be necessary,” I answered as a group of girls started to whisper to each other…loudly as we passed by.
I didn’t miss the “demon slut” slurs they were throwing around.
How original.
Jenna seemed to have a tracker for the frat’s special drink, and she headed straight back through another room where a DJ was pumping music through enormous speakers to where buckets of clear liquid were stashed along the wall.
I stared at them dubiously.
“The last time the drink was red. What the hell are they putting in this that keeps it perfectly clear…except for straight vodka?”
Jenna was humming along to aBackstreet Boyssong while girls screamed and danced nearby, because there was nothing a group of college coeds liked more than some throwback boy band songs.
“It’s fine. There’s so much alcohol in this that it kills off anything bad that could be in it,” she explained calmly as she took a ladle and scooped some of the drink into two red solo cups.
I put it up to my nose and took a big sniff. Nothing. It might as well have been water, because I couldn’t smell anything.
I watched as some frat bros went up to one of the other buckets and scooped some of the drink into cups. They guzzled it back and laughed uproariously.
Well then, at least it didn’t kill you right away.
Jenna was watching me, amused, as she sipped her drink. “Just taste it,” she scoffed.
I scrunched up my nose and then hesitantly took a sip.
Hmm.
“I can’t taste anything,” I told her quizzically.
She just smirked at me, taking another long sip out of her own cup.
I took another sip, and then another, confused. Unlike the punch at the first party, which had just been delicious, this literally tasted like water. I’d even go so far as to say that water had more flavor than this did.
Whatever was in this must be powerful though, because the people crowding the room all were drunk as fuck.
I could see a group gathered in the next room around a giant ping pong table. “Is that the ‘pong’ game you were talking about?” I asked as I watched four guys playing against each other. One of the guys was covered in tattoos. And I wasn’t talking just tattoo sleeves--he had tattoos going up over his jaw, and I could see some interwoven in his hairline.
“Yep,” she said, popping her ‘p’. “That guy right there, Tyson, he’s the president of this frat. He’s a little addicted to tattoos as you can see. But evidently, he’s actually done most of the ones on his body. He’s really talented.”
I watched the ball fly back and forth across the table until it landed in one of the cups of punch, and then Jenna was pulling me into the crowd to dance. I pretended not to notice when people immediately moved away from us as soon as they saw me.
I could already feel the alcohol relaxing my muscles and I let myself just…have fun.
Or as close to fun as someone like me could have.
Jenna was grinding against me like I was a pole and she was a stripper, and I threw my head back and laughed when she shimmied all the way to the floor.
And that’s when I saw him.
Cain.
Heading up the stairs with two girls following close behind him, giggling nervously with each other. One of them had two fingers hooked in the back of his jeans.
