Oh, That Frat Boy! (H.S.)

Chapter 4: A Little Party Never Killed Nobody

I am never stepping foot into Queens again.

No, I don't have anything against it...it's just too damn far.

The commute was way too long from my dorm and considering the way I was dressed, there were a few unpleasant catcalls thrown my way.

Disgusting.

I wore black high rise skinny jeans, paired with a navy silk sleeveless top, and a black blazer to cover everything. On my feet, I had black heeled booties with a pointy nose that can hurt if shoved someone's ass.

I'd left my hair in its wavy state, applying some makeup and added my signature touch, a red lipstick.

I'm no whore. A woman should always have a red lipstick handy.

Tonight seemed to be going down the drain.

Stay optimistic! my mind screamed at me.

I walked about ten minutes in a suburban neighbourhood that resembled a rich village. The houses were huge, row after row of beautiful manors.

Then, I spotted the house I was looking for.

When you see a house with people walking in and out, give me a call, Zayn had said. I did, but he never picked up.

I was on my own.

Fuck.

Walking up to a huge house with Greek letters over it, I heard the beats of music and peeked a guy taking a shot off a girl.

Giving it a benefit of a doubt, I walked in just in time. The scene before me was comical. Shirtless guys, their chests painted in red and blue colours, beat their chests like gorillas as a way of encouraging a guy to keep his balance whilst doing a keg stand. Others were spread around the house, majority concentrated in the living room, with most of the couches occupied by horny, drunk couples.

I rolled my eyes as I walked in further, my judgement seeping into my brain. I didn't think I could do half the things they did here. I may have gotten drunk a couple times, but it was probably because I hadn't eaten before.

"Well hello," I hear a voice behind me.

Raising my eyebrow I turn to see a smirking Zayn. He was dressed in a simple black shirt and skinny jeans to match.

"Look who's alive," I said sarcastically and gave him a deadpan look.

"Nice to see you, too," he laughed and swung his arm around my shoulders. "Come on, let's get you a drink."

He led me to the kitchen where a couple people stood around talking.

"No alcohol," I said, looking pointedly at the bottle of vodka in Zayn's hand, ready to pour me a drink.

"Party pooper," he teased, pouring a shot.

"You just want an easy lay."

"Are you really gonna play that with me?" Zayn murmured and came closer to me, simultaneously taking a shot. His eyes shone with teasing and mischief.

"Not here," I hissed, looking at the people around us. I felt my cheeks heat up.

"There's upstairs..."

"Oh good God," I groaned as I facepalmed myself and, grabbing a soda can from the counter, I saluted Zayn.

"Go find another lay, I'm gonna go find entertainment."

And so I did, in watching frat boys getting drunk, playing beer pong, and attempt flirting. At which they miserably failed.

After about an hour, more people poured in....