Weekend Friend

04.

THE CAPTAIN'S HOUSE is one of the two designated off-campus properties occupied by the men's soccer team—3B is the other. The Tudor-style house is larger and more luxurious than 3B. It's for this reason that it hosts more parties, though they are still exclusive.

If you want to pass through its barn red front door, then your name needs to be on a list. Alternatively, you need to have one of the players vouch for your entrance. It's cut throat and mildly elitist in the same way Greek Life is, but the soccer team has an impeccable reputation that the players take seriously. They don't want to invite the kind of trouble that results in police cars or ambulances parked in front of the house.

But for better or for worse, entering the Captain's House isn't a problem for Parker and myself, and Elsa and Corinne's status as members of the women's soccer team guarantees their entrance. However, our guaranteed entrance hasn't stopped Parker from speed-walking like her life depended on it. My lungs strain as I attempt to keep pace with her in my combat boots on the sidewalk.

"What on earth has possessed you two to walk at such an ungodly pace?" Elsa calls out, vocalising my thoughts.

I glance over my shoulder to find her and Corinne nearly half a block behind us. Even so, I can still see the highlighter I'd applied shimmering on Elsa's dark cheekbones. Charlotte Tilbury really knew what she was doing with that product.

"You can take it easy, Park. We already did our cardio for the day!" Corinne adds, taking effortlessly long strides in her pink sundress. At 5'11", she's the tallest girl on the team and moves with the grace of a gazelle.

"But we're behind schedule!" Parker hollers back, maintaining her I'm being chased by a madman pace. "Besides, speed walking is retribution for failing to get your asses to our place on time. I even gave you a thirty-minute buffer!"

"So apparently, we're making up for lost time," I chime in, but snag Parker's wrist to allow them to catch up. When it comes to attending parties, I'm an adamant supporter of maintaining strength in numbers. I like travelling with girls who have my back, and vice versa.

The Captains' house sits on the outskirts of Greek Row, with an ungodly number of stone stairs leading up to the front door. I've come dangerously close to eating shit on them a few too many times for me to have overwhelmingly positive associations with the place. But parties here don't resemble the stereotypical rowdy events that top fraternity houses at Claremont host—music doesn't reverberate down the street, and there isn't a poorly formed line of wannabe attendees on the steps.

As always, Parker leads the way up the steps, ringing the doorbell with the unhurried confidence of a highly sought-after guest who's intentionally arriving late to an exclusive dinner party. She looks the part as well—effortlessly chic in a square-neck black jumpsuit and dainty gold jewellery that subtly catches in the soft golden lamplight of the porch.

I admire the confidence she has to show up to a party that Morgan Whitman will most certainly attend. While I'd like to think I could do the same, I'm certain my anxiety would convince me to dig my heels in and stay away—stay home with my favourite sad songs and movies. But that's not Parker. She's not afraid to wear her heart on her sleeve, not afraid to go to parties, not afraid to remind Morgan of what he's missing out on.

Muted party noise seeps out from underneath the door as we wait. I shift in my combat boots, practically feeling the vibrations of the heavy bass beneath the soles. But then the door flies open, noise rushing out like a dam has burst. I instinctively step backwards but flinch as my heels extend off the edge of the porch.

After quickly regaining my balance, I'm surprised to meet the hazel eyes of Levi Elliot, one of the soccer team's senior captains. It's unusual for one of the seniors—let alone a captain—to answer the door as they're usually too caught up in the festivities to be bothered to play bouncer. That's the kind of task Levi and his predecessors delegate to underclassmen on the team. I vividly remember Sydney having to man the door last year and getting scolded for letting too many people in because he didn't have the heart to turn them away. Bless him.