Float

Chapter 1

Chapter 1

*****
Julie

“Pick a suit and let’s go!”
I close my intro to psych textbook, huffing slightly as I turn to my roommate.
“Where are we going this time?”
“The Pike. There’s a party down there tonight and apparently this frat that’s hosting it has like the best parties or something,” Trina scrambles through her drawer, bikinis flying through the air and littering the floor.
“Wait….um…” I chew on my lip, trying to figure out a way to tell her…
“What? What is it?” She looks frantic, her brown hair in a bush around her face; yellow swimsuit in one hand, and blue in the other.
“I...uh….” I can’t do it. Then she’ll really think I’m a party pooper, “I just don’t swim much.”
“Oh. Well, here,” she nonchalantly throws the blue suit at me, “It’s your color.”
I think about coming up with another excuse for a second, but there’s no use. Trina will not take no for an answer. I know; I’ve been trying to get her to for the past two months.
I remember like it was yesterday. I walked into our room on move-in day and she immediately squealed and ran to hug me. All I had wanted to do was get my stuff moved in and set up, but she had quite a different idea. The girl had already mapped out practically every party on campus and could be ready to go at the drop of a hat. My first three weeks were a blur of classes, until we made some silly deal: I would go to at least one party with her every week. And I guess you could say overtime I’ve come to somewhat enjoy it. But there’s one little thing I forgot to say, and don’t have the heart to tell her now. I can’t swim.
“Get up! Get up!” Trina yells from the sink and, sick of hearing her complain, I saunter across the room until I’m standing right behind her, glaring at her in the mirror. “Go put on that bikini! It’s cute!” she says, taking a mascara wand to her eye.
I move back across the room and slide on the suit. She’s right it’s cute, but it’s not fitting exactly right. My hips make the bottoms seem much smaller than they should be and the girls aren’t quite filling out the top.
“Um...is this okay?” I ask Trina as I make my way over to my drawer for a pair of shorts.
“Oh my gosh! Yes! It’s super cute!” Trina squeals.
I slide on some matching flip flops and grab my phone off the charger.
“Okay, ready?” Trina twirls in the middle of the room, showing off her yellow string bikini. “Good?”
The minimal fabric hugs her in all the right places, meanwhile I’m still trying to figure out how to pull loose top over my boob-less chest.
“Yay! Okay. Double check. Phones? Shoes? Cute outfits? Yep, we’re set! Come on, I got an uber on the way up here. It should be here by now.”
And with that I follow Trina out the door and to the elevator, wondering what mess she’ll get us into tonight.

*****

We hop out of the uber once we arrive at the party. Well. Trina hops out. Then proceeds to drag me inside. I’ve gotten used to it now, the party environment. It’s a pure pit of hell. The music is loud enough to make us all deaf by 30, there’s drinks sloshing everywhere, half of which I’m sure are not legal, and the people are everywhere...everywhere. But somehow I’ve become used to the chaos and follow Trina through the crowd and into the backyard. Not that people are acting any more sane out here.
Trina drags us over to a random group of guys, beaming up at one of them while the rest stare blankly at us. I can’t decide if this is due to the fact that we just walked up to an unknown clique or if they’re just that drunk already.
“Hi, Cody,” Trina coos, squeezing herself into the circle to be next to a guy with scraggly brown hair.
“Tori! Hey, girl! What’s up? How’ve ya been?” he slurs. Yep. I’m gonna go with drunk.
“Uh...it’s Trina. But nothing much. So who are your friends?” she smiles up at him as he curled an arm around her waist. What.
“Yeah! Yeah...uh…” he trails off. The least this guy could do is get hammered to the point that he’d at least still be able to speak basic english. “Guys!” he yells suddenly, as if someone had jumped up behind him, “This is...Trina! Yeah, Trina. And she’s in my english class and...Trina these are the guys.”
“Hi, guys!” Trina chirps and a medley of drunken murmurs return the greeting. “Oh! This is my friend, Julie,” she giggles, pulling me into the circle next to her, “Well, roomate, but you know, same thing,” she giggles innocently. The guys all flash me smiles rather than actual words. Okay that’s it. I need an out.
“I’m gonna go grab a drink,” I blurt, and Trina gives me a look, knowing all too well that I don’t drink.
“I’ll come with,” one of the guys exclaims, but the way he says it is too firm and sudden for him to be just plain friendly.
I roll my eyes and proceed into the house, shoving my way through the crowds of twerkers and tipplers until I reach the kitchen. Like all the parties I’ve been to so far, this room has the worst smell out of the whole house. I carefully step over the broken beer bottles that missed the trash can and make sure to avoid the sink, where surely at least five people have spewed the contents of their stomach. The one guy from outside is still trailing me, so I fill a red solo cup with some random drink and hand it to the dude.
“Drink up, buddy,” I snort as I dive into one of the chip bags next to the line of alcohol.
“Thanks,” he grunts. He sniffs the contents of the cup for a second or two before downing the whole thing in a few gulps. “So what’s your name again?”
“Uh….Julie,” I say through a mouthful of Lays, “You?” If I’m gonna be here all night, might as well meet a few people.
“Bentley.” The way he says his name comes out so crisp, clean, and...not drunk.
“Cool.” We both sit there staring at each other awkwardly for a few moments. “Uh….so are you in this frat or just taking advantage of the drinks?” I joke nervously.
“No, no, I’m uh. The president, ” he says, straight faced. I feel my cheeks flushing and hope that he can’t see my discomfort in the dim lighting of the room. “So...lemme guess. This your first party, freshman?”
“Um, no. It’s my third party.” He scoffs and I immediately regret ever coming out tonight. “I gotta go.”
I wander back outside, and ease into one of the poolside chairs. Maybe if I pull out my phone and mess around that I’ll look like I at least have somewhat of a life.
I never understood the hype of frat parties. Like....let’s all stand around, get drunk to the point we don’t know our own names, and probably drug a few girls while we’re at it. Like...what? Someone explain this to me, cause all I want to do right now is return to my dorm room and snuggle up under the trillions of blankets on my bed. But I can’t leave Trina here alone. I know so far she seems like the big kid in all of this, but in reality she’s a big teddy bear trying to break away from her sheltered roots that she had all of high school. And the weird part is, she’s such a natural at all of this party stuff; meanwhile, I’m still trying to figure out how to introduce myself to the girl that sits next to me in psych.
There’s screaming and splashing and jumping. Everyone is flocking to the pool; even Trina who runs towards Cody in the pool. Isn’t it dangerous to drink and swim or something like that?
“Hey,” says a deep voice. A lanky, red haired guy comes and sits down on the chair next to me.
“Uh...hi?”
“You know, I don’t think you’re really having any fun,” he reaches for my hand, slowly pulling it away from me and into his lap, “You should come swim with us.”
“No...I’m good. Really. Maybe later.” My nails start digging into the seat cushion beneath me, eying the pool nervously, “I’m fine.”
“Well, a pretty girl like you is sure to have on something nice for the pool --” I smack his hand away as he reaches for the hem of my shorts.
“I’m. Fine. Great, actually,” I growl.
“Aw, come on. I’ll hold you tight, baby,” he says. His fingers begin to slowly trace my back and make their way up to the string of my swim top.
“I don’t need any holding tonight, if that’s alright with you,” I snap.
“Whatever, bitch,” he grumbles and flips me a finger before walking off.
“Wow, classy,” I call after him, rolling my eyes. I shiver silently, and readjust my bikini strap.
I look around me, making sure there’s no more creeps coming my way, and once I feel safe enough -- or as safe as someone can be in the middle of a frat party -- I calm down and go back to scrolling.
But let’s be honest. Is the coast every really truly clear? I guess I got a little too comfortable, because before I know it, there’s a pair of arms wrapped around my body, and I go flying through the air towards the pool.
“Gotcha, bitch!” is the last thing I hear before hitting the water.