Pieces

Chapter 1

     Neon lights shined through the windows of the Kappa Sigma house. The brick walls seemd to vibrate with heavy bass and wild music. Red cups and glass bottles were strewn across the lawn. Nothing like having my first party at the biggest campus frat house. What was I thinking? I told Hannah to run in without me. There was a build up of nervous jitters in the pit of my stomach. There is no way I'm going in there.

"Are you coming or not? Live a little!" Hannah shouted through the car window. People making out against a tree stopped for a split second to laugh at the freshman locking herself in the car. "Don't be such a goody two-shoes, Clara. C'mon." Oh what the hell. As soon as my stilettos hit the pavement, a wave of anxiety crashes into me. A nauseous feeling keeps creeping up and I swear I'm gonna puke. I can't believe I'm actually doing this.

     I trusted Hannah to pick my attire due to her extensive encounters with these frat parties. She insisted on me wearing a suffocating black dress and black heels. I didn't think black would draw too much attention, it's a common color right? My prior judgments were thrown to the wind when Hannah and I earned multiple cat calls as soon as we began climbing the steps to the house.

     The house is a sauna of sweat and smells of alcohol and something I can't put my finger on. Multiple couples are grinding and shoving their tongues down each other's throats against every wall. The room to my right is radiating music into every other room in the house. Girls are dancing on tables and people are swaying to the beat in every open space. Every person has a disposable cup in their hand, liquid sloshing out due to the dancing. So this is a party.

     Hannah grabs my wrist and yanks me into the kitchen. Some boy is ladling cups with a sketchy clear drink. She gladly takes a full glass and heads off into the crowd. After declining the mix drink, I fill a cup with tap water. My mom always told me the best way to stay sober at parties was to have a cup in your hand. I receive a couple strange looks from people in the kitchen, everyone clearly already tipsy, the clear liquid running though everybody's veins. Disregarding them, I sit in the farthest corner of the kitchen admiring the party.

     Girls are batting their Barbie doll lashes and hanging over every boy in sight. Females definitely outnumber the males, hoisting up their skirts to gain attention. Boys rub the girls' bodies up and down. What kind of girl do you have to be to let them feel you up like that. This whole shebang is a mess. The boys aren't even that attractive.

     I seek you out, flay you alive, one more word and you won't survive. The remix to one of my favorite songs is blaring through out the house. I've never heard this version, the slow beats making the masses of people move in unison. It wouldn't be too bad to dance just for one song, right? I've never danced like these people are dancing, their hips gyrating against one another, some in pairs and some in lines. It doesn't look too hard. With a deep breath I pushed my way into the crowded room.

     I was immediately yanked into a long train of sweaty dancers. A girl to my front and a boy to my rear. His hands gripped my hips as they lead me into the rhythm of the rocking bodies. I felt the beat and was quickly engulfed in the adrenaline fueled dance. It feels dangerous and provocative, but it makes me feel free.

     I'm not sure how many songs have passed at this point, maybe three or four. A boy wedged himself between me and the girl in front of me a couple minutes ago. The boy behind me has gotten more touchy but it isn't outrageously inappropriate until his hands tightly wrap around my hip bones, pulling myself farther into him. His hips move away from the steady beat of the song as he pushes himself against me. The boy's breathing speeds up as I feel a hard lump pushing into my back. Not today.

     I pull myself out of his grip and the train breaks due to the boys' reluctance to dance on each other. Turning on my heel to find my way back to my secure seat in the kitchen, I begin to retreat. Rough fingers lace through mine, gently pulling me back toward the mob of people. Arms snake around my waist. My breath hitches in my throat and the air in the stuffy room thickens.

"Leaving so soon?" a raspy accented voice whispers in my ear, breath fanning over my neck. The hairs on my arms raise on end. I've never felt so singled out. Every girl in sight glares daggers at the two of us. Moments feel like hours, why won't he just let me go?

     Spinning me around, I look up to see his eyes, their green hue captivating me, pulling me. There was a mysterious sparkle in his emerald irises I couldn't name. His hair was pushed back, brown curls framing his face. Pink lips curl up on one side, revealing a deep dimple. His cheek bones and jaw line create sharp angles that you just want to trace your fingers over. His eyes remind me of the ocean, forcing me to swim through a million thoughts.

"Like what you see, love?" his voice pulls me out of my mind. My brain is liquid, finding myself nodding yes without a second thought. A soft chuckle shaking his shoulders. I don't know who this boy is, but something pulls me to him. He's attractive, literally, a magnet dragging me into him. His fingers intertwine with mine, leading us back to the crowd of swaying bodies.

     He turns me around, pressing his body against my back, gently guiding my hips with his moving us to the steady beat. The song is considerably slower than the others. The room has slowly dispersed due to the lack of upbeat music. His fingers rub circles on my hip bones as we casually swing together side to side. Body heat is radiating all around, making the room feel both one hundred degrees warmer but also much more comfortable simultaneously. He just feels right, forming perfectly with me.

"What do they call you?" every syllable seeping with his husky English accent. His voice made every word sound like molten chocolate, smooth and thick.

"Clara. What about yourself?" I mentally pat myself on the back for sounding controlled and calm while my mind moves a thousand miles per hour.

"Harry." Harry. His hands wander down my sides, blazing hot trails along my body. The music changes, more upbeat and thrilling. I let the beat drag me closer to him. Tugging up slightly at the hem of my dress, he begins to trace small circles on my upper thigh. I stop dancing abruptly as his finger runs over a line of raised scar tissue causing my blood to run cold.

     My mind struggles to stay in the moment but darkness is pulling me under. The scar he grazed feels like fire, the pain of memories pushing me out the door. Maneuvering around the crowd, I try to keep my recollections suppressed. Once out of the frat house, I sprint as fast as my feet could take me out of the house, away from the music, away from the party, away from Harry.