You Know Me

5| Come Play With Me

I pull into the long driveway filled with drunks who look way too intoxicated to drive. They continue to go in and out of the large fraternity house with their feet entangled with their legs and bodies swaying from side to side. It's too nice of a place for a bunch of young boys to be living in, but that's the point. I park beside Christian's car, hoping that none of the other drunks will hit it on their way out. The house is lit up with iridescent lights of all colors wrapped around the two pillars set on each side of the entryway, and Chi Omega is poorly written in big, bold letters on a banner hung from what seems to be the gutters.

I reach behind me, into the backseat, and grab one of my back-up t-shirts. Taking off my grease-stained work shirt, I quickly throw the semi-wrinkled one over my head. As I get out of my car, I let my hair down, running my fingers through every strand to get some of the grub out before deciding to put it back up into a poorly put up ponytail. I walk up the stone steps to the wide-open front door. As I get to the last step, I can hear the laughs and mocks from the group of girls beside me, looking straight at me. I'm not in the fucking mood, but when am I ever?

"What the fuck are you looking at?" I snort. Their eyes go wide like they've never been confronted before. Leave it to Josephine Stone to put arrogant bitches back in their place. They don't say a word as they look at each other and walk down the steps together like a herd of seagulls or some shit.

The smell of smoke and liquor are distinct as I walk into the foyer, and streamers along with long strands of toilet paper hang from the stair balusters. What a fucking waste. The awful music hurts my ears and almost makes me forget that I came here to find Stella. I go towards the living room, walking straight through a makeout sesh, and receive harsh glares from the two, but I give one back just as harsh.

"Well, well, well, look who it is. Josephine Stone," a familiar voice says from behind me. I can already see the flaming red hair before even turning around.

"Trisha Blankwell," I say blandly, finally turning around to confront the most jealous person I've ever met.

I think it's because I rock our hair color better, but it could also be because her six-month boyfriend left her because he felt that I had a thing for him. That wasn't the case. Even after many failed attempts of me explaining to her that I, in no way, had a thing for her boyfriend, she never believed me. I don't give a damn what she thinks, but I hate when people think they're right. I'm not the type to steal someone's boyfriend. There have been a few incidents where I didn't know the guy was in a relationship, but that's not my damn fault.

"Where have you been? A party isn't a party without Josephine Stone. I knew you would come since Stella came," she says with a cold smile. Her red flames sway from shoulder to shoulder as she speaks, and her arms cross against her leather tank, pushing her cleavage out excessively.

"Where is she?" I ask, ignoring everything else she said besides the mention of Stella.

"A little bit of everywhere like she always is. Come, talk with me," she says as she wraps her arm around my shoulder and leads me into the kitchen. My shoes stick to the floor with every step, and the awful smell of vomit adds to the many reasons why I hate college parties so much.

She grabs a solo cup from the small tray that sits on the kitchen island. I almost reject it, but since there's a possibility that I'll be here for a while, I accept. I sniff the red liquid and smell nothing but vodka and cherries—just the same as before. College parties and their strong drinks are the number one reason I can hardly remember most of my first semester. That's the cool thing about college; there is at least one party, if not two, every night of the week. They would be cooler if they weren't so disgusting.