Courting Fate

One

"What!? Not again..." The freshman's bulky shoulders slumped as he admitted defeat for the fifth time in a row.

"Stop whining and start chugging. Here, I'll show you how it's done." Despite the countless red cups she had emptied already that night, Emma's reflexes remained sharp as she snatched the drink and drained it in one long gulp. The intoxicated rabble of students around the table cheered as she crushed the empty cup on her opponent's oversized forehead.

"Next time, try to keep up," she smirked. Emma closed her eyes briefly to try to steady the slightly spinning room. She decided she should take a break from the drinking games for a while before she ended up a boneless mess on the frat house floor. And who knows what is on this floor or how long it's been since it has been cleaned, she mused to herself, shivering dramatically in disgust. She looked around, trying to spy her roommate amongst the throng of human traffic weaving around the house, careful to avert her eyes from dark corners so as not to see anything she couldn't un-see.

Not that it was likely Riko would be lurking in any such corner. In fact, Emma had been surprised when Riko suggested coming to this party. Riko's fierce dedication to her studies and coaching meant she rarely invested time in any sort of social endeavour. So, when she had asked to go to a freshman sports club party, Emma agreed out of pure curiosity. As it turned out, there was a guy Riko had met in her nutrition class who she was hoping to 'run into' there. Akaashi or something if Emma remembered correctly.

And run into him she had - within about 20 minutes of their arrival - meaning Emma had been left to navigate the sea of intoxicated athletes all by her lonesome. She admitted she had felt a little awkward at first, but after accepting a drink from an over-eager baseball rookie, she had begun to relax. Inevitably her competitive spirit had come to the fore, leading her to the game of beer pong taking place at the table she had just vacated.

"Hey, Emma!" The rookie pitcher had found her again, it seemed. She turned to find him beside her, arm outstretched, offering her a fresh (and badly poured) beer. His confident smile was infectious and she flashed him a lopsided grin as she took the drink. He sure seems eager to please, she thought, could be fun... The last few years that Emma had spent on exchange in America had gone a long way in loosening her attitude around sex, and the alcohol only served to encourage such ideas. 

"So," began the pitcher, "did you wanna go somewhere more private so we can, ah... talk?" Despite the nervous hiccup in his voice, his raised brows left no uncertainty as to what he was suggesting.

"Sure, why not?" Emma shrugged. "Lead on, uh..." She realised then that she had already forgotten his name, and also that she didn't really care enough to ask for it again. She took another swig of beer only to find herself choking on the large head of froth resting on top. Emma doubled over as her throat rejected the brew. As she straightened she felt the room begin to lurch hard to the left and she blinked hard several times in an attempt to right the world on its axis. This worked, but only for a few seconds and she sighed, admitting to herself that maybe she was indeed drunk and in need of a lie-down. Just for a few minutes.

"You go scout out a spot. I'll catch up in just a minute." She waved her would-be companion ahead and looked around for a place to crash. She spotted a tired-looking sofa in the next room and made a beeline for it. Holding her drink out straight so as not to spill any, she flopped backwards onto the couch.

"Ooomph!" The couch beneath her shifted, landing Emma in an unceremonious heap on the floor, wearing half her beer.

"Oh my god, I'm so sorry! I didn't see..." She stopped short when she met his gaze. His eyes. They were a hypnotising shade of gold. She couldn't look away. Or speak, so it seemed.