To Be Blindsided

Chapter One

Albany Hurston

I stared blankly at my notes, reading them over and over again, but not retaining any of the information. "I'm brain dead," I huffed as I tossed my notebook off of my lap and laid back onto my small bed. As a sophomore in college I should have known a little better than to be slacking, but I had no problem procrastinating. I swiped mindlessly through Instagram, looking for anything to entertain me. A swift knock at my door drew my attention away from my phone.
"Come in!" The door creaked open and in came my friend Zayn. I was kind of glad my roommate wasn't present for his arrival. The time before last, they hooked up and he never called her again. I bet you can tell how long I heard about that. "What's up?" he questioned. I shrugged. "I was studying for my finals, but I really can't focus. I've read over my notes for what feels like a thousand times, and I can't tell you one thing on the paper."
"You sound like you need a strong drink, and a hot guy," he chuckled. I rolled my eyes even though he was right. I had been to a few parties the year before, but it was nothing special. Alcohol wasn't exactly my cup of tea, and I was way too out of it to deal with a bunch of drunk nonsense.
"A party doesn't seem too bad right now, is there one going on?" I asked. Zayn's phone went off in his back pocket. "Just got an invite to one. It's at the frat house that homes the hottest boys on campus!" He grinned. "I'm in!"

~~~

I tugged on my belt loops, hiking up my skin tight jeans and pulling my hoodie down just enough that it rested on my hips. "This place is packed," I gawked as we made our way up the many stairs.
You could hear the music and smell the liquor and sweat from outside. As I walked inside, the temperature drastically changed from the cool breeze of October to an LA night club. The humidity of there being so many drunken bodies, and mixed smells of cigarette and marijuana smoke clouded the air. Girls grinding on each other in the flash of a boy's cellphone recording them were to my left, and a wild game of beer pong to my right. This, was a party.
"Do you want to go get a drink?" I yelled to Zayn over the loud house music. He laughed. "Someone's eager to start drinking!" I rolled my eyes and made my way through the various stumbling bodies to the kitchen. Bottles on bottles lined the counter tops of various types of alcohol, soda, and juice. A few bowls of cheap snacks were laid out lazily for anyone to grab from.
"I really wish people would have catering at their parties. I know it's expensive and pointless because there's parties every day, but at least on the weekends. These bullshit pretzels are a turn off," I complained. I picked up a classic red cup and made myself a drink. I lingered in the kitchen, as the atmosphere was more clear, and the music wasn't as loud.
"I hear that. I'm starving!" Zayn held his stomach and pouted. Just as I started to laugh, a loud crash of breaking glass rang through the house. I stormed into the living room, seeing someone laid out on the ground, the glass coffee table shattered beneath them. I gasped quickly.
"Oh my god is he okay?!" Someone screamed. The guy sat up, groaning. "I'm fine," he grumbled as his friend helped him up. The back of his shirt was ripped open, blood leaking from a few slashes across his back. I cringed.
"That was wild!" Zayn said next to me. I felt so overwhelmed with concern. I followed the boy and his friend upstairs. By the time I reached the bottom they were turning the corner at the top. I made my way as fast as I could up the stairs and followed them to one of the bathrooms.
"Hey, I know I don't know you, but I just feel so bad. Are you okay?" I asked as I stepped into the bathroom. He slipped off his black t-shirt, revealing tan skin littered with tattoos galore.
"I'm okay, just a little banged up," he smiled up at me. Something caught me off guard. His accent.
"I don't mean to sound like an ass or anything, but are you British?" I chuckled. He shared a laugh as well.
"Yes, I am British." He held his bloody t-shirt around his forearms. The back was shredded and a red tint from the blood on his back was inked and just barely noticeable on the black fabric.
"Like, born in England British, right?" He scoffed. "What else can I do to confirm to you that I am Br-" his words were cut off by a sharp hiss as his friend dabbed his back with a cloth.
"Sorry dude, I have to clean it with alcohol," he grunted, holding the rag to his back and dabbing it lightly around.
"Well a warning would have been nice, yeah?" He griped. His eyes met mine once again, and he lifted his hand in offering.
"I'm Harry," he smiled lightly.
"Albany," I offered my hand back, shaking his delicately. His hands were stunningly large, and soft.
"What brings you to the party?" He scrunched his eyebrows together. I laughed. "The same thing that brings everyone else, finals." He must have thought that it was so funny because he slapped his knee and cackled loudly.
"That's so relatable!" I shrugged my shoulders. His friend nudged Harry's arms to lift them, and proceeded to wrap gauze around his torso.
"There you go buddy, good as new!" He cheered as he gave him a sharp pat on the back. "Ouch! What the fuck was that for?!" Harry turned sharply.
"Oh shit, I'm so sorry. I forgot already," he chuckled. Harry rolled his eyes and stood up, using the sink as support.
"Would you walk me to my room?" Harry looked down at me.
"Of course!" I moved out of the doorway and let him lead the way. We walked down three other halls to find his room at the end of the longest hallway.
"This is a damn hike!" I huffed, pretending to wipe sweat off of my forehead. He laughed. "You're so funny. Everyone here in America is just so serious, I don't understand it," he shook his head as he pulled a small key out of his pocket. Sticking the key into his door, he unlocked and opened it, leading the way inside.
"You lock your door?" I questioned as I closed it behind me.
"Oh please, you have to when you live in a frat house. The animals that live in this house will pick anything and drag it into any room to have sex. They have no courtesy for others, it's insane. And don't even get me started on them 'borrowing' clothes, and deodorant, and condoms, and a tooth brush," he groaned. I pictured someone busting into his room drunkenly and rolling around on his neatly made bed.
"You take very good care of your things, I'm impressed. I would have thought there would be clothes and empty water bottles laid out on the floor, maybe a bra or some underwear hanging from the ceiling fan," I giggled, picturing it over his bed. He dug through his drawers and pulled out yet another black t-shirt.
"Oh no, I'm not the type to bring just anyone in here for business. Not like my heathen neighbors, I'm sure their rooms look like that though," he spat, cringing at the thought.
"So what, do you have social anxiety or something?"
He pulled the t-shirt over his head and grabbed his cologne off of his dresser, spraying a spritz in the center of his chest.
"No, I just don't want an STD," he smirked as he made his way to the door.
"Come along now, let's make our way back downstairs," he held the door for me. I walked towards it and stood in the hall, taking a sip of my drink as he closed and locked the door. He walked swiftly past me, wafting his cologne through the air as his long legs carried him to the stairs. He stopped when he realized I wasn't following him, and turned around to call to me.
"Well, don't just stand there. Let's go party!"

~
At the end of the night I found myself sitting around a fire in the backyard of the frat house with a few others, including Harry.
"So I trip over my shoe, my shoelace wasn't even untied. I fall flat on my face, food goes flying, and my grandma's dog comes running over to eat what landed on and around me," I finish. Harry's loud, booming laugh rips through everyone's conversations. His animated facial expression is illuminated by the orange tint of the fire.
"That's literally insane! I'm coming to your house for Christmas this year," he heaves, catching his breath. I shiver, the cold temperature of the October night continue to drop, regardless of the fire being present or not.
"Oh, are you cold? Would you like my jacket?" He offers as he slips off his leather jacket and hands it to me. It smells like fire smoke and his cologne.
"Thank you," I gush thankfully as I pull my arms through the sleeves and wrap the opening around the center of my thing hoodie rather than zipping it.
"I really have had an amazing time with you tonight, Albany. You're so fun to talk to," he smiles. I can't help but melt over the way his dimples sink deep into his cheeks, and his green eyes glisten in the light of the fire.
"I've really enjoyed my time with you too, Harry. Maybe we can go out some time to lunch," I offer.
"Yes, but my treat. I don't know how these American boys work, but chivalry is not dead in England," he winks. My stomach swells with butterflies and I have the urge to squeal.
"Albany!" Zayn calls out from the sliding screen door at the back of the house.
"Albany! We have to go it's getting late!"
I shrug Harry's jacket off my shoulders and hand it back to him.
"I have to go. My drunk, gay best friend asked me to be his DD for the night," I laugh.
"Oh, but I was having such a good time!" Harry pouts.
"Trust me, there's many more to come," I gleam, as I hand him my phone for him to put his number in. I take my phone back and wave to him as a saunter towards the house.
"Bye Harry!" I call out.
"Bye Albany," he calls back.