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Liesel grabs us some drinks, passing a red cup over to me that smells like punch. Tilting her head, she motions for us to join a group we know dancing in a small circle. With the cup still in my hand, I drink it in one go, willing the punch to settle and make this night more memorable.
We dance to the music, raising our hands in the air as we sway our hips to the beat of the music. It’s just a bunch of us girls until Cash, a guy from my economics class, comes over.
“Hey, Miels,” he greets, the sentiment not lost on me. Austin alternated between calling me that and Millie, depending on his mood.
“Hey, Cash.”
“I’m surprised you came.”
“A persuasive roommate.” I laugh, poking Liesel in the arm. “So, what, no date? Or am I cramping your style?”
“You, gorgeous, could never cramp my style.” Cash winks, a devious smirk playing on his lips.
Liesel motions something I can’t seem to work out. Ignoring her sign language, which makes no sense whatsoever, Cash pulls me to the dance floor.
We dance for a while, laughing when the music turns upbeat and closing in on each other when the tunes slow. Somewhere in the middle of our dance, Liesel purposely dances beside me and whispers in my ear, “Selfie this shit and post it in your story.”
I ignore her until Cash grabs my phone and puts his arm around me, posting it to his story and tagging me. I laugh, not caring anymore who sees. What does anything matter? Austin no longer speaks to me, probably busy with Winter, or was it Summer? I can’t even remember her name. As for Will, he’s most likely between someone else’s legs right now. The thought itself burns like acid, and when my friend, Katelyn, walks past with two red cups, I grab one from her, quickly apologize, then down it in one go.
The second drink makes everything much better. I repost Cash’s story, sending it to my own. We dance for a bit longer until he suggests we go somewhere quieter. I make some excuse about Liesel needing me, knowing that Cash’s not-so-subtle butt grabs on the dance floor means he wants to take it further.
I want to have fun, and despite my earlier rant, I’m not ready to jump into bed with someone else.
The night begins to wear heavy with talks of the party shutting down soon. In a fit of giggles, Liesel and I hold onto each other to battle the cold as we walk back to our dorm room. At the beginning of the walk, our alcohol-fueled bodies were barely able to walk straight. But there’s something to said about the cold—it sobers you up pretty quickly. It must have been all the teeth chattering or the constant talking to distract ourselves from the awful chill.
Inside the foyer of our building, we stumble and laugh until Liesel holds me back, calling my name to catch my attention.
I divert my eyes to our dorm room where Will is pacing in front of our door, dressed in a tux with an angry glare as his eyes feast upon me.
“Mr. Nothing?” Liesel whispers. “Millie, he’s hot. But super angry.”
“What are you doing here?”
“I need a word with you,” he barks.
“I’m going to Jen’s room.” Liesel lets go of my arm, her gaze still fixated on Will. “Text me when you’re ready.”
Unsure of what to say or do, I manage to move closer and motion for him to get out of my way so I can open the door, all while trying to ignore how handsome he looks in his tuxedo.
“What could you possibly have to say to me?” I question abruptly.
I cross my arms beneath my chest as he closes the door behind him. Leaning on the door, he folds his arms just like me, but his gaze never shifts. The angered expression only appears to intensify when his eyes drop to the floor, then slowly drags them back up my body.
“So, Cash, is it? Is this the college guy you’re fucking?” he asks, though it comes across as more of a threat. “Oh, wait a minute, dating according to what you tell your mother?”
Shocked by his jealous accusation, I refuse to break his stare. “I’m sorry, I didn’t realize I had to answer to you. I’m not sure why you felt compelled to drive over here to weigh in on my personal life since, apparently, you have a date waiting for you. Let me guess, she wanted to stay the night, but you just couldn’t let her ruin your streak of one-night stands?”
“Joy was my date for an event in which I couldn’t exactly attend single.”
“Joy?” I repeat, mocking. “Now isn’t that a festive name?”
“Sounds to me like you’re jealous.”
“Being jealous would mean that I actually care, which I don’t. I don’t care who you fuck. You’re the single almost billionaire, and all the women are dying to get their hands on you.”
“And you’re the college girl all the men want to taste.”
Taken back by his comment, I pause, breaking his stare. He still hasn’t given me a reason why he’s here, yet I stand in front of him absolutely speechless. Nothing makes sense, nothing at all.
