One Summer Day (BWWM)

CHAPTER 14

Three weeks into summer, and party Cléo has made no show. I cannot keep living like this. I need some music and some dancing without a care in the world. Yon was in her bed, scrolling through her Instagram feed when I kept groaning, hoping that she would get the idea. After my sixth groan, she aggressively slammed her phone on her bed and looked at me, annoyed. I smirked, finally getting her attention.

"Jagi, you know I love you, but that's getting annoying quickly," she grumbled. I got off my desk chair and walked toward her.

"Babe, it's been three weeks, and we haven't gone to a party. I need to let loose and have some fun; we need to let loose and have some fun," I pouted at her. Honestly, it wasn't even the party I was missing; I just wanted to get dressed, feel hot and sexy, and dance without a care in the world.

"And I heard that the frat boys are throwing a party, and you know they always throw some good parties," I said convincingly.

"Jagi," she tried to refute.

"Please, Jeno can even come with. I just want to go to a party and escape reality for the heck of it. I'll literally do anything," I pleaded.

She nodded her head, and I squealed in excitement, hugging her. "Okay, okay, now text Jeno and tell him so I don't get in trouble, Mr. Lee," I giggled, walking toward my bathroom to get ready.

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An hour later, Yon and I walked out of our dorm looking hotter than ever. Luckily for us, the frat house wasn't that far of a walk, and we made it there quickly and safely. As soon as we entered, we were met with the smell of musty teenagers, alcohol, and a mixture of sweat and sex. I started to second-guess my choice to come here. Needing some liquid courage to get through the rest of the night, I headed for the kitchen. I turned toward Yon and tilted my head toward the drink area, and she nodded in agreement. Making it to the kitchen, we made our drinks by ourselves and headed back to the main area. We downed the shots, and I felt the burn go down my throat; I couldn't control the look on my face. Feeling the buzz of the alcohol, I grabbed Yon and headed to the dance floor when I heard "I Want You To Know" by Zedd ft. Selena Gomez blasting through the speakers.

I lost myself in the music. I don't know about y'all, but Selena Gomez unlocks the inner white girl in me. I grabbed onto Yon, and we sang the lyrics to each other, laughing and giggling, just enjoying the feeling and the buzz. I love moments like this: not a care in the world, just pure bliss and happiness. That moment was cut short when I felt hands on my body that shouldn't be there.

I opened my eyes and turned around to find a man I'd never met in my life touching me. The shock wore off quickly, and I pulled his hands away and slapped him. The slap echoed, causing people around us to stop and stare.

"Who the hell do you think you are to touch me without my permission?" I snapped at him. I tried not to let my emotions control me, but at times like this, I let them take full control.

"We're all on the dance floor, and you're basically asking for it, moving like that. You don't have to be a b*tch about it," he snarled. I felt another head growing out of my neck.

"What the fck did you just say to me, you cnt?" I sneered at him.

"You heard what I said, you black btch." I don't recall what happened after that; all I know is that I started smacking him over and over again. I heard Yon calling out to me, but I felt the need to smack some sense into the incel a**hole—not a man, a pssy b*tch.

I felt myself being ripped off him and caught a faint whiff of a familiar cologne. I realized a crowd had formed around me, but I couldn't care less. What gives a man the right or the audacity to touch a woman without her consent and then turn around and call her a b*tch for defending herself?