M A X W E L L

frat boys and sorority queens

M A X W E L L

9

One assignment out of the way, three more to go.

Painfully exhausted, I sigh and fall onto my back which lessens the tension it's been plagued with considerably. Summer should be closing up at the coffee shop now and I would be lying if I said I was looking forward to her arrival. It's Friday and her idea of an epic night out is attending a lousy college party, most likely hosted by some cocky, frat-house douchebag with deep pockets and only a few functioning brain cells.

If it were up to me, I'd call it a night and catch up on some much-needed sleep but that's not an option considering how many times I've backed out on my plans with Summer. Whatever, what's the worst that could happen anyway? We'll have a couple of drinks and I'll meet several uninteresting girls and probably even get lucky. That's not so bad now is it?

I drag myself out of bed and look through my dresser for something decent to wear. I settle for jeans and a Ralph Lauren Polo shirt, a present from Rooney two Christmases ago. I head to my tiny kitchenette and from the cabinet pull out a bottle of cheap vodka from which I take a generous gulp. This should get me sufficiently buzzed.

Summer arrives shortly after, colourful in a tie dye jumper and tiny denim shorts. I drive us to the frat house, which isn't too hard to find if you just follow the sound of the music. When we arrive, it's brimming with college students, some of which suspiciously look as though they belong in high school. Summer squeals with excitement as we make our way up the short flight of stairs leading to the entrance.

"Don't drink too much, you're driving," she reminds me and squeezes my hand lightly.

I nod as we make our way inside, eardrums nearly shattering from the deafening electronic dance music booming from the speakers. It smells like sweat and booze and the LED lights whirl in a way that is kind of hypnotising. Summer disappears into the crowd of dancing party animals and I'm certain I'll only see her at the end of the night.

I don't really know what to do with myself so I make my way to the makeshift bar and grab myself some punch. Several girls try to strike up a conversation but attempting to speak over the music gets on my nerves so I end up slipping away and camouflaging in the crowd. I'm bored and the punch isn't really doing it for me.

I head upstairs in search of a quieter area or an unoccupied balcony from which I can smoke. I'm in luck when I open the door to an unlit bedroom at the end of the hallway, there's a lad who seems to be stargazing or awaiting someone. I'm sure he won't mind if I puff a cigarette or two and if he does, I'll have to resort to more, non verbal forms of persuasion. My fists have been itching for a little excitement anyways.

"Hey man," I say, startling him, causing him to nearly spill the drink in his hand.

He turns around and immediately, at first glance, him and I fail to conceal our disbelief. What an unpleasant surprise- Luca fucking Blue, what is he doing here? It seems he is everywhere I turn, an endless ocean of misfortune repeatedly thrown at me by the universe.

"What are you doing here?" he slurs.

He's incredibly drunk. Yet still, annoyingly enough, manages to look overwhelmingly attractive with his unmissable James Dean hair and oversized The North Face jacket.

"I should be asking you that, you're too young to be at this party," I reply

"I didn't take you for a frat house party kind of guy"

"I'm not, I'm accompanying a friend. You need to get your underage ass home," I perk an eyebrow

"You're very bossy you know that," he pouts and with his index finger repeatedly pokes me in the chest. He nearly loses his balance and stumbles to rest his arms against the balcony for support.