*Slow updates*
After agreeing to be the focus of a college article,
senior Charlie Murtaugh gets more than he bargains for when he's assigned a clueless sophomore who knows nothing about the sport.
...
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I wasn't going to the party.
But Elle bailed on Shadé because her manager forced her to pick up a few more hours at work and Samantha's pulling an all nighter to complete a presentation due tomorrow.
I just happened to need a distraction after having lunch with Charlie. I need something to help me forget all about my problems and nothing screams temporary amnesia more than a college party. If I'm going to be telling Melissa that I will not be writing the article tomorrow then I might as enjoy myself before the sh*tstorm.
"So what's today's theme?" There's beer bottles as soon as we step out of our Uber. Shade gives me a what are you talking about look as she adjusts her short leather skirt. "Isn't there always a theme for this thing?"
"There is but they're trying to be mellow this year." She replies as we walk towards the Victorian style fraternity house that's blaring music so loud the ground is vibrating. I feel bad for the neighbours. "Geez, it's not even 12 and it's already like a freak show in here."
And she's not lying. The front yard is littered with beer bottles and people, most of them sitting in clusters chatting and drinking while some are vigorously making out. I scrunch my face up and look away.
Alpha Sigma is a frat house known for throwing notorious parties. Apparently If you've never been to at least one of their parties then you shouldn't call yourself a UCLA student because this is where all the shit goes down. Alpha Sig throw this one themed party at the start of the year. Last year's After Sex Party was all ruffled hair, loosened pants, guys in beaters and girls in underwears. It was so wild that I still can't remember half of the sh*t that happened. Mostly because I was drunk.
Which is why I'm a bit hesitant as we climb the stairs that lead up to the open door that has a few people lingering around it.
They seem to have simmered down a little with this years theme-whatever it is. Maybe they don't even have a theme this year considering Shade doesn't know about it. Hopefully things wouldn't get too out of hand.
***
Shadé went to get us more drinks about twenty minutes ago and now I'm stuck in the corner of the large living room as people shout out the lyric to Drake's new hit. It's kind of fun watching these people literally make a fool out of themselves as they yell and dance to the music from a corner-especially when most of them seem to be tied together with a piece of string-but I also secretly wished to be like them. To be carefree without feeling like my insides will churn out. To socialise without the need to throw up.
God, I need some air.
As I start making my way out to get some fresh air, the music goes off and the whole party break into a chorused groan as the tiny spotlight goes to a familiar looking blonde guy standing on top of the makeshift bar. It's Sawyer Harrington. One of the school's best basketball players and Charlie's friend. He's the "rich one" as Elle describes him, occasional jackass and all year round playboy. I've seen him a few times around but we've never really had a conversation especially because he's always with a girl. Just like right now-he's tied to a brunette with a string. The girl is undoubtedly drunk as well as she flashes everyone a pearly white smile. Although I'm confused as to why half of the room is tied together, I stop pushing past people to see what the ruckus is about.
