College Chronicles Ep. 15 Pt. 02

"Oh my god, Cin, we can't! What if someone sees? Where did you even get that?"

"Ugh, relax! It's so dark out! You need this."

She stopped short and lit it as soon as she finished speaking, and I stumbled a bit, reacting slowly. When I managed to turn, she pressed forward and kissed a lungful of smoke into me. When she released me I was wobbly, and she finished answering.

"And your brother, of course! He definitely has a crush on me; I asked for one joint and he tried to give me everything he had!"

She laughed quietly, and I coughed even harder. When I regained control we continued walking, passing the joint back and forth until it burned down, and we were both on our way to stoned when we reached the park.

The platform was exactly as I remembered it, with a little bench around the edge and a roof with a few dim lights. Good enough for Cindy to make me beautiful, which she did with mostly the normal ease, though probably less thoroughness (by necessity). The only problem was me, struggling to hold still until she snapped at me and I froze. Then it was all done; foundation, blush, eyelashes and lips. When she finished I didn't have a mirror to see myself in, but I trusted her skill and judgement.

As I put on the black stilettos, necklace and earrings Cindy supplied, she hid the backpack and everything but our coats and phones under a bush lining the outside of the platform. Then we continued on our way to Max's, arm in arm.

*

Though I knew where Max lived, I didn't know the exact house; the information had been more important for avoiding the area than going to hang out. I'd worried I would struggle when we got to the street; I shouldn't have. The house was thumping, nearly dancing with sounds and lights, people overflowing from open doors and windows. It was a miracle it hadn't been shut down; good thing that the cops in the area were fat and lazy.

Even as one fear eased, my neuroticism found something new to stress about as I saw a group of guys crowding the front door. I tugged on Cindy's arm and whispered in her ear with urgency.

"Uhm... Cindy... How... What's the plan?"

She had no idea what I was talking about, shooting me a confused look.

"...Plan?"

"Yeah, to... To get in?"

I tried to explain myself, but she blew me away dismissively.

"Haha! We don't need a PLAN, S--"

She caught herself, shooting side eye towards the house, then returning to me.

"... Rileyy..."

An ironic wink, a playful drawing out of my chosen name. God, I was so lucky to be with her.

"...We're hot as fuck!"

As she said it, it was obvious. Of course we didn't need a plan; were they going to turn away two gorgeous girls ready to party? I was only starting my study of masculine tendencies, but even I got that.

"Oh my god, almost forgot that too!"

Cindy stopped, and I was flooded with sudden relief when I saw her pull out our masks, remembering at the same time as she, so glad we hadn't been a minute slower. The masks were little more than black lace, really. Lingerie style. But when Cindy pulled it on, I was satisfied that they could hide an identity, and followed her lead.

With the mask, I felt different. Maybe it was the weed... But it was more than that. Cindy had said it; I felt HOT. It was easy to follow her lead again, shrugging off my coat. Even the dead-of-winter air couldn't seep a chill into my blazing core. The tremor that surged through me wasn't a shiver, but a thrum of taught energy that I somehow knew I could harness. And I did just that, channeling the energy into bravery, linking my arm through Cindy's and approaching the steps to the mini porch.

We hadn't made it half way up the lawn when I felt eyes on us, noticed a slight drop in volume of nearby chatter. The group of guys standing at the door had clocked us approaching and were watching keenly, eyes darting up and down, slack jaws hanging open.

It was a usual greeting for Cindy, and she was unperturbed as we reached the bottom of the steps, easily falling into a companionable tone, with half a laugh ringing in every word.

"Hey boys! How's the party?"

There we a few seconds of quiet as they continued to stare. In that moment, I recognized a couple of them: Kyle and Josh, two of Max's best friends and henchmen. Two of the ones who had been there to haul me to him on that first day of my new life as high school loser. If they recognized me, it was all over before it began. If they didn't, I was in the clear. Eventually Kyle, the (slightly) brighter of the two, spoke up.

"Uhhh... Good... Do we... Know you?"

Cindy exaggerated thought for a second, a finger at her lips, turning to look at me and giggling quietly, flirtatiously laying her hand on my chest. It was an act, but one that worked; I saw a few of the boys lick their lips, one or two not so subtly moving hands to their crotches.

"Maybe! I'm Jess, and my cute friend is Riley."

Her answer was light and teasing, almost singsong. A few of the boys laughed at her non-joke, but Kyle's eyebrows narrowed, and a dull look of dawning suspicion began to grow.

"Uhh... I mean... Did you go to our school?"

"That's the mystery! It's no fun if we just TELL you who we are!"

"Yeah, stupid, that's no fun."

Josh piped up, eager to get on Cindy's good side. On OUR good side, I realized, as his eyes turned to me and looked up my bare legs hungrily.

When he reached my face, he tried to shoot me a wink, but it was clumsily executed, more of an ugly blink. I couldn't help but roll my eyes and quietly scoff; he was such an ugly jerk. Then I caught myself, winced, looked around anxiously. But instead of the anger and reprisal I suddenly feared, he seemed to shrink, as if my dismissal of his attempt had squished him, bug-like.

All of that went unnoticed by everyone else, except maybe Cindy. And Josh's jibe had worked for us, no matter my response. The other boys had joined in, calling Kyle an idiot, inviting us in, asking what drinks we wanted. His weak attempts to continue the interrogation were brushed off, and we stepped up the stairs and into the belly of the beast.

'Belly' was appropriate, the center of the raging party. It must have been going on for a while already; the house stank of liquor and sweat and drugs and sex, those aromas I'd never known in highschool but come to in college. The front door led into a long hallway that seemed to cross the house, with a central stair and doors leading off. That hallway was packed with bodies, as the thumping speakers were located on an edge of the stairs overlooking the impromptu dance floor.

As soon as we were in, Cindy navigated the party like she'd been there before, grabbing my hand and pulling me through the crowd. It parted for her... Us... easily, with the usual rows of disbelieving boys and jealous girls lining the path she led me down.

Then we were in the kitchen, surprisingly less full than the hallway. That was surprising because the room was the true hub of year's end revelations; the source of alcohol. There was a keg in the middle of the room, standing in a baby pool of ice and dirty water, surrounded by a crowd of people counting as a boy I vaguely recognized did a keg stand. Around the edges of the room was more alcohol; a massive bowl of questionable punch, and more bottles than I'd ever seen in one place. Vodka, rum, whiskey, tequila, even gin and wine had their occasional place. And that wasn't even mentioning the mixers, in an array of colors to make a rainbow jealous.

Cindy was quick to grab a pair of red solo cups from a giant stack and set to making us drinks. Behind her, I slowly looked around the room until I caught a familiar eye.

Luminous eyes so light brown they were almost golden, framed by long jet black hair. Lauren Kippleman. She had been in Aurora's friend group at school; I say friend group, because all the girls in it never really seemed like friends, more part-time allies, interested in consolidating social power. There had been enough heavily publicized fights and fallout between them that everyone in school knew to distrust their fawning, over-the-top make-ups and professions of being 'total BFFs.'

Unlike Aurora, Lauren had been in my school since the beginning, staring kindergarten at the local primary with me, way back when. My parents said we had been friends as small children; I didn't remember at all. The only reason Lauren hadn't bullied me more was that our social roles were established. I'd been too unworthy of attention to even bully, and I was just glad she didn't join in more with her friends.

But then, Riley bore the full weight of that attention, in the beating heart of the party. Lauren was wearing tight black low rise jeans, exposing her flat and tanned stomach, with a gold crop top and absurd plunge that did what it could to emphasize her underwhelming cleavage. She was smiling at me, and the surprise of her attention made me cringe a bit under the mask.

"Oh my god, you're so pretty! Who are you?"

I was speechless, expecting her to somehow know, condemn me, out me. But she seemed joyful and intrigued, no recognition whatsoever. I stuttered and stammered for a second, falling back into old habits.

"I... Uhm... R-riley?"

"Riley... I don't know a Riley. Do you?"

She turned around, and I realized she had a cadre of queen bee bitches behind her: Emily DeGeneris, Holly Biels, Sarah Hubson. Girls who I'd watched for twelve years like celebrities... and interacted with like celebrities; not at all.

They all looked as good as they had in highschool, in very short, revealing tops and skirts like Lauren. Answer came with similar unity, shaking their heads and casting me judgemental side-eye, making it clear that though I looked good, I wasn't one of them.

Lauren turned back, and her eyes flashed with a cruel slice as she honed in on a weak spot.

"Well, wow. You're just too cute! And wearing your hair like that..."

She reached out, and before I could react had snagged a loose strand of my hair, pulling it through two fingers.

"So brave!"

The girls behind her tittered and made their own quiet jokes, whispering in each other's ears. As the blush rose, I could feel myself getting pulled back, across time and space, to the small wimpy Sam I had been. That jibe was worse than anything they'd thrown at me in high school; since I cared about my appearance, it hurt to think that something like my hair would ruin it.

But I wasn't alone anymore.

As if called by my need, Cindy whipped into the middle of conversation, one hand squeezing mine as she faced up to Lauren.

"Wow! A top like that, with tits like that? So brave!"

Clearly she'd been aware of my entire encounter. Or maybe it was just coincidence. Without waiting for the Laurens's response, or her posse's shocked faces to decide what emotion to settle on, she turned and spoke into my ear.

"Fuck these mean girls, let's go dance!"

I couldn't help but giggle at her playful swagger. She was right, they were such petty little mean girl bitches, stuck in high school mentality in that dead end town. And I was with Cindy, who was going to fly me back to an exciting city, with exciting people and things to do. I looked down at myself, to my incredible girlfriend, and then back to the girls, who were still sputtering and confused at how easily they'd been brushed off, not used to being treated that way. Suddenly, it seemed they weren't even that hot. Or at least, Cindy and I were hotter. So what if my hair wasn't perfect? The boys from my hometown wouldn't be looking there.

So I was in lockstep as Cindy grabbed my hand and dragged me back to the thumping, bumping gut of the party. Hip-hop was blasting with a bouncing bass, and even though it wasn't my music I could easily find a rhythm, helped by the weed and the alcohol Cindy had pushed into my hand at some point. It was cramped, bodies packed in between close hallway walls. But that also made it more fun, more sweaty and hectic and immersive. Faces shifted around me, and after a few cycles I began to recognize them; faces from my past, a boy from first period physics senior year, a girl I'd worked with for an English project as a junior, a boy I'd swum against after school and on weekends, and more. And each time we came face to face, their expressions were immoderate lust, taking thirsty glimpses of my body as I twisted and spun and danced, before I drifted away in the crowd.

When Cindy appeared before me, we grabbed tight, not stopping moving, but centering on each other. I turned and she pulled me close, grinding into me. Then she opened her mouth, basically yelling in my ear to be heard over the booming music.

"Those girls!... They're just jealous!"

Even a week earlier, I might have let their veiled insult ruin my night, freak me out totally, especially with the abnormal experience of being at a party with people from my highschool. But being with Cindy, bringing Sami home... It had really affected me, changed me.

I leaned my head back, trying to get as close to her ear as possible, shouted my response.

"I know!!"

I tried my hardest to be heard. I did know. I was like Cindy, I was too good for my old town and the shitty people I knew from highschool. We were angels slumming it, stepping down from the clouds to party with mere mortals.

When Cindy pulled back and spun me around, her proud smile told me I'd been heard. She pulled me in for a passionate kiss, and I held on tight, feeling like my heart might burst. Her tongue penetrated me, invaded, flicked and played inside me, and I moaned back under sensual assault.

I had closed my eyes without realizing as I yielded to Cindy's soft lips, and when she separated I was slow to reopen. Then I realized why we'd stopped moving so much; the dancing had paused around us, all eyes on our embrace. Boys were staring-- not just staring; cheering, egging us on, calling their friends, even a few cameras had come out to record what they thought was a coveted lesbian hook-up. Girls were staring too, some in obviously jealous judgement, others with more conflicted expressions hinting at their own desires. I even spotted Lauren's face in the crowd, a comedic expression of mixed confusion and frustration twisting her features.

I dipped my head to Cindy's shoulder, blushing at all the attention. But it was a different kind of blush; not from humiliation, but humility. I knew we were hot, but hadn't expected all that, didn't know we were 'stop the whole party' hot. Cindy owned it, raising her arms and beckoning on more cheers. When she was satisfied she had every eye in the room, a gentle palm lifted my chin back to her, and we kissed again, this time passionate and slow and sloppy, putting on a show for our audience. I was keenly aware of the hooting and applause they gave in appreciation.

But even we couldn't hold a party's attention for long, and bodies gave into rhythm, swallowing us back up. We gave in too, bouncing along, singing and shouting and drinking and even smoking when a joint got passed along. We were broken apart, danced our way through the hallway. I found myself tossed up against boys, some I recognized, some I didn't... And I went with it, tossing my hair and grinding and flirting with my eyes and hands and anything I could control. I did my best to channel Cindy, and I got a glimpse of her view, passing dumbfounded looks entranced by my ephemeral beauty, my tenuous but lingering touch. I stroked chests, pushed back into crotches, bit my lip and didn't stop moving, not knowing what they or I would do if I did.

So it was a shock to my system when a hand grabbed me and dragged me out of the press. But it was just Cindy, pulling me free into less crowded but just as hazy air.

"Let's check out the rest of the party!"

She didn't leave me time to agree, just tugged me in tow, threading past people, around a corner, and down a narrow set of stairs into a basement. Like she had said, there was more to see. The basement had a competitive atmosphere, with a variety of drinking games, or simply aggressive drinking, carrying on: beer pong, quarters, another keg with a boy crouched on top and a chanting crowd around him.

And then I saw Max.

He sat in the middle of a long couch, surrounded by sidekicks and sycophants, passing a blunt between themselves. The couch ratio spoke to Max's charisma (or lack of), with only two girls matched to about six boys. I recognized one; 'Easy Erica,' as she had been known around the school. I'd felt a bit bad for her, both for average looks, and her record of dating most of the school. I had seen a similar outcast to myself, but that good will evaporated the instant I saw her fawning over Max, almost throwing herself on him, despite his bored look. Instead of eyes on her, they darted around the room, watching with a decidedly rodent-like quality that unnerved me.

Then his shifty eyes caught Cindy and I, standing half way up the exposed staircase. He stopped, staring outright, scanning our bodies, until I caught his eyes with mine. He flinched in surprise, eyes turning away to faux-casually return to his friends, laughing at conversation around him. That was a shock; I had matched eyes with Max, and he had buckled first. Though his presence in the room had shaken me, that small victory steadied my footing. He didn't recognize me, and more importantly, he couldn't stand up to me.

So when I nudged Cindy, I was slow and collected. She turned and I gestured subtly, pointing her attention to the couch.

"There's Max... middle of the couch."

I had worried that she might immediately do something, say something that would get his attention, force the issue. I was relieved when she seemed totally unimpressed, changing the subject.

"Ugh, he creeps me out. Let's win some pong!"

We were moving before she finished, down the rest of the stairs and across the room, to a corner where two tables were surrounded by a crowd. Of all possible drinking games, beer pong was one that I at least knew, though I hadn't played. I tried to tell her, warn her I would suck... But before I could, she had maneuvered us through the crowd to the edges of the tables, and boldly addressed whoever would listen (and who wouldn't listen to the perfect ten redhead with striking green eyes?).

"We want a game! Who's winning?"

Of course they would laugh us away, right? We couldn't just walk up and demand priority in the middle of a boisterous, drunken rager; even Cindy didn't have that kind of power. But it wasn't just Cindy asking, though I never opened my mouth. Things really were different for hot girls, especially in pairs. And then I saw who she was speaking to as he turned to face us. We were both stunned by seeing the other, but only he voiced it.

"Gotdamn!"

It was Jake. 'Jake the snake,' as he'd been known around high school. And not for being untrustworthy. Jake had been one of, if not the coolest guy in school. Two time homecoming king and team captain of the varsity football, basketball, and baseball teams really got you a lot of social cache in high school.

Because of all that we'd barely interacted. I'd figured he didn't know who I was; the few times we'd spoken had been in passing, as I bumped into him in the hallway and similar awkward situations. But he had never really bullied me, just ignored me all together, even offered a polite apology once.

"Fuck off!"

He hissed across the table at the pair of guys on the other side, who briefly protested before looking to Cindy and I again, deciding it was a lost cause. There were a few grumbles from the audience as well, but Jake turned back to us with a wide smile and a twinkle in his dark eyes.

"'Course you got it. I'm Jake, that's Brad. You're...?"

He motioned to his partner, a slightly taller boy with a mop of brown hair. Of course I knew him, another of the cool crowd. Another face I recognized that didn't recognize me back. Each new one bolstered my confidence in Riley, in myself. Brad's eyes slid over me to Cindy and shot her a wink; she gave me a look at that, and we giggled as she answered.