𝐒𝐂𝐑𝐄𝐀𝐌 𝐐𝐔𝐄𝐄𝐍

𝕔𝕙𝕒𝕡𝕥𝕖𝕣 𝕗𝕚𝕧𝕖

Music thumped loud and heavy in your ears, shooting rapid pulses all throughout your body. You sat on the very edge of a lawn chair in the fenced-in backyard of the sorority house Mickey had sent you the address of. 

 You had to constantly shrink in on yourself to prevent getting toppled over by drunken frat boys and their equally sloshed friends. There was still no sign of either of the boys you'd planned to meet up with and you considered standing up and leaving when a throat cleared above you.

"M'lady," Randy greeted, voice dipping into a poor medieval European accent as he bowed, holding out one of the two red plastic cups in his hands. The ghost of a smile graced your lips as you took it from his loose grasp and tipped your head back to take a long sip. The drink tasted like a thick orange soda but left you with the burn of vodka on your tongue long after you swallowed.

"What took you guys so long?" You whined, setting the cup down on the pavement by your feet. It wouldn't take many of those to get you plastered. "Sorority girls kept coming over to try and induct me."

"Everyone wants a little piece of you. You're hot shit." Mickey waltzed over with a cup of his own, but it appeared he'd taken the higher route and filled his with water. His unaware grin made your blood curdle. They didn't have a clue about what transpired right before you left for the party. Ignoring his statement, you folded your hands and looked out over the gathering. It was quieter now and most everyone made their way inside for refills.

Randy leaned in, effectively blocking out Mickey from your peripheral view. "Are you feeling any better?" He asked.

"Barely."

His forehead creased and he sat up straighter. "What's wrong?"

Should you tell them and ruin the rest of the night? It wouldn't hurt to just save your troubles for when the sun came up, would it? You could deal with the phone call and your hangover all at once. Kill two birds with one stone, as they say. 

"I...I got a call from Billy and Stu."

Mickey spat out his drink and a few unfortunate girls squealed, having gotten sprayed in the backs with a fan of backwash. "For real?" He choked, wiping his chin with the sleeve of his shirt. You shrugged and Randy squeezed your shoulder. "I dunno. I mean, it sounded real. But it also could have been another prank."

"Do you remember what they said?" Randy pestered, voice wavering on a whisper. Mickey stood over both of you with a wickedly intrigued smile. His finger tapped impatiently on the rim of his cup. He was way too excited about this.

You were just about to answer with something vague and hopefully unassuming when the music was suddenly turned down considerably. As silence washed over the yard, heads began to turn and a few people even groaned loudly. The faint clicking of heels on wood sounded and a girl you recognized from Delta Lambda Zada walked out onto the porch.

"The police are everywhere across the street!" She announced, cupping her perfectly manicured hands over her lips to project her voice. "They're saying some chick got murdered at Omega Beta Zeta!"

Your body seized up at the news, your hands balling into a pair of tight fists. Randy and Mickey shared a look over your head and the rest of the party-goers waited only a split second before rushing to the sliding glass doors, eager for a glimpse of the action. You knew without even looking that Mickey's fingers were twitching, eager to go grab his video camera and approach the scene.

"Yeah, no," Randy shook his head, standing up and confiscating your cup, tossing both yours and his into the bushes behind you. "(Y/N), I'm taking you home. Get your coat."