Because of You (10 page)

Maddie

onight’s party is by invitation only. The card in Gina’s hand is fancy, printed on thick paper, and embossed. Gina is taking me as her plus one. It’s being held at another fraternity. I forget the name. She got the invite from some guy in her Biology class.

The party theme? Heaven or Hell.

I should’ve known that
fancy dress
meant
ostentatious
.

When we arrive, a guy takes our invite and directs us to a sitting room. All the guys are in suits and ties, except the pledges; they’re wearing black pants and black bow ties. No shirts. And they’re carrying around silver trays of sparkling cider.

“This party is lame.” Gina is leaning back in a plush love seat, and I’m sitting next to her. She rests her head on her hand and closes her eyes.

“Total snooze,” I agree.

The décor in the sitting room is luxurious. The furniture is black leather. The carpet is white, and the curtains are black and white. Greenery—plants, shrubs, and trees—are spread throughout the room, and paintings—Van Gogh, Klimt, and an artist I don’t know—are hanging on the walls. A black grand piano is off to one side, and a guy in a tux is playing “Suite No. 2” from
Romeo and Juliet
. There’s even a crystal chandelier hanging from the ceiling.

People are milling around, chatting quietly. One guy appears to be asleep. The whole scenario reminds me of a party from the book
The Great Gatsby
.

“Where’s the booze?” I ask, and immediately regret it.

Gina raises an eyebrow. “You gonna be a lush, roomie?”

I have no idea what she means, so I shrug. “Is this supposed to be a fraternity for the wealthy kids or something?” I whisper.

“I guess. If this is how they party, then I don’t want to be rich.” Her right leg is bouncing up and down. She’s antsy.

A clock on the mantle says eleven twenty-nine.

“Should we get out of here?” I was looking forward to the numbness, the warm fuzziness from the alcohol. But if all they’re going to serve is sparkling cider, there’s no point staying.

“Yeah.” She looks around the room in disgust. “Snooty and boring. Eesh.” She stands, and I’m about to follow, when a guy in a tux walks in.

He’s handsome in that
someday-I’ll-be-a-senator
way.

“My name is Sam. I’m the president of the Alpha Kais. If you’ll please follow me.” He turns and walks from the room.

Everyone rushes forward. Excited whispers fill the room.

“What’s happening?”

“Where are we going?”

Gina and I follow the crowd.

“Should we duck out? It looks like he’s leading us past the front door,” Gina says.

I’m curious, though. “Let’s see where he’s taking us.”

Sam takes us past the front entryway, through the kitchen, and then opens a door.

“Welcome to Hell,” he says with a grand flourish. A huge grin lights up his pasty-white face.

Several girls squeal with enthusiasm. It’s like a herd of elephants clomping down the stairs.

Gina and I exchange a look.

Loud music is pumping below.

Without a word to each other, we make our way down.

At the bottom is a thick black curtain. I push it open and can hardly believe my eyes.

“This is more like it!” Gina hollers.

A disco ball sends sparkling lights around the room to the beat of the music. There are girls in bikinis dancing around poles on small circular stages. Their movements are slow and seductive.

In the center of the room is a dance floor. Hundreds of kids are gyrating. To the right are small round tables. Couches shaped in a C are nestled around them. Behind the chairs is a bar. Shirtless guys are whipping up drinks. The room is packed. And I wonder why they kept us waiting around upstairs for so long.

Like the last party, the music, the energy, and the idea of drinking push away the pain that’s constantly dwelling in my soul. It’s too loud to feel anything but the beat.

I glance at Gina. She swaying, and I get the feeling being here pushes away whatever sadness she harbors as well. It dawns on me that I consider her a friend. My first. And I realize I want to get to know her better. Really know her.

A pretty boy with blond highlights, wearing only red boxers, sticks a tray in my face and smiles. “Jell-O shot?”

Surprised, I step back. “What’s in it?” I ask, wrinkling my nose.

He leans in and whispers in my ear. “Heaven.”

My face heats up, and I have no idea why. But I figure I’ll give it a try. He hands me a cup filled with blue Jell-O. I don’t know what to do with it.

Gina grabs a yellow one, tips it, and squeezes the contents into her mouth. She shakes her head, and swallows. “Yummy.” She tosses the empty cup on the tray, picks up another, and does it again.

“Give it a try,” the guy says, smirking at Gina.

I’m still hesitant until Gina adds, “It’s filled with booze.”

I can’t help the smile that breaks over my face.

The mostly-naked guy and Gina laugh. “I guess I should’ve led with that,” the guy says.

My mind is reeling, ready for the gooey warmth that comes with the strong liquid. I tip back the small cup. The contents fall into my mouth, and I swallow. “Mmm. Good.”

“Have another.”

I take a red one and tip it back. “It’s like candy.” And I do a third.

The music changes to a song I know. My body sways on its own.

“The best kind of candy,” Boxer Guy says. “My name is Stuart, by the way.” He sticks out his hand and I shake it.

“Hi. I’m Maddie.”

“Nice to meet you.”

Someone shrieks, and we turn. Gina has jumped on one of the stages and is moving her backside against the pole. The scream must’ve come from the girl Gina kicked off.

I’m a little horrified.

“Your friend’s name is Gina, right?” Stuart asks.

I search his face. He’s watching her, a strange look on his face. Then he clears his throat. “I’ve heard about her. Gina’s a party girl.”

He hasn’t said anything that isn’t true. Obviously she likes to have fun. But, for some reason, the way he said her name makes me want to lock him up and throw away the key. “What did you hear?”

He turns to me. “Oh, nothing. Hey, you want another shot?”

The alcohol buzz hasn’t hit me yet. “Sure.” I tip it back.

Stuart moves closer, and runs a hand along my waist. My heart jumps into my throat. His hand on my body does not feel right.

“Go refill your tray, grunt!” The command has come from behind us.

We both jump.

Stuart turns toward the voice, and I follow.

It’s Kyle, dressed in a black suit, a crisp white shirt, and a black tie. I melt into a puddle on the floor.

“Don’t be a dick,” Stuart seethes.

“I’ll be whatever the hell I want. You, on the other hand, are to be nothing more than a waiter.”

“That girl’s a cunt. I didn’t do anything she didn’t want—”

Kyle rams his hand into Stuarts throat. “Finish that sentence and you’re out, dipshit.”

Stuart coughs and sputters. “Asshole. You’ll be hearing from my lawyer.” He grabs at his throat and stalks away.

“I can’t wait to talk to your lawyer, tell him about the tests you aced but didn’t study for, the side job you’ve got running, and the—”

“Asshole!” Stuart shouts between coughs.

“Prick.” Kyle shook his head. “Stay away from that guy. He’s messed up.”

“I will.”

We study each other and I imagine two assassins sizing each other up before going in for the kill, but that isn’t quite right. It’s more like a hunter sizing up his prey. Thoughts of his teeth grazing my neck, his hands exploring by body—

“Hey,” he says, moving closer.

I don’t respond right away.

“Want to dance?” He’s so close I have to tilt my head to see his eyes.

Kyle,
I think, remembering the boy I used to love.

His father killed my parents. He’s evil because his dad is evil.

He’s a slut. A kinky slut.

My brain snaps back to the present and I tell myself to run and run fast. But the Jell-O shots have kicked in. My veins fill with blissful indifference. I’m drowning in the balminess.

My mind changes its tune.

Kyle didn’t kill my parents.

A body this beautiful cannot be evil.

He’s a slut. A kinky slut.

“Tell me what that means,” I blurt. My face gets hot when I realize I spoke the words aloud. I’m scalded with mortification.

He chuckles. It’s low and sexy, meant only for me.

“Are we talking the meaning of life or something else?” He’s smiling. His perfect lips, framing perfect teeth, attached to a perfect face.

“Oh,” I blush hotter.

He’s so close to me I can feel his breath on my face. Sweet. And I wonder how many shots he’s had. Whether his lips taste like lemon, or strawberry. Orange or lime. My fingers touch his lips. I’ve been waiting forever to kiss them. The succulent bottom and the soft top. I imagine they’ll feel like a pillow, or a cloud.

Hell has beautiful scenery
, I think, my body moving up, placing me on a collision course with his lips.

“You never called,” he says, interrupting my drunken haze.

I pull back. “Um, yeah, sorry. I don’t have a phone.”

His fingers are touching my arms, scorching a trail. “Do you want to get out of here?”

“With you?” I ask, unable to tear my eyes from his face. My hands are on his chest. I’m not sure when I put them there, but they feel like they’re in exactly the right place.

He chuckles again. “You’re new to all of this, aren’t you?” His eyes roam around the room.

“It is that obvious?” My words are slurred.

“Come on,” he says, wrapping an arm around my waist. My mind tries to panic.
This is not a good idea
, it screams. I ignore it. My body wants to be near Kyle. Touch him. Embrace him.

Kyle

addie is so drunk I have to carry her to my Jeep. She keeps touching me, almost like she’s trying to make sure I’m real. It’s sweet and I can’t help but feel protective of her.