College Chronicles Ep. 18 Pt. 02

Why do beautiful girls fall for average men?

Natalie had the time of her life, and when the band revealed their closer as a cover of Britney Spears' "Toxic," I was able to get in a little dancing, bopping to the familiar instrumentals as Marcus belched out lyrics, bending them unfamiliar with his harsh delivery. But I could look past it, willing myself to meet Natalie's excitement.

Then, finally, they were off the stage, and Natalie turned to speak to me, half-shouting from lingering deafness.

"He's so cool!... We're gonna hang with him later!"

Was he? Did I want to hang out with that guy? Not really, based on his band... I didn't say anything, just nodded in vague agreement, and luckily the second band was already coming up onto the stage, plugging in guitars and testing the drums. They introduced themselves simply as

'Dreams'; a three-piece of acoustic guitar, bass, and drums, and though they didn't have the shouting anger of Marcus' band, they didn't have any of the energy either. After the third mid-tempo song started pulling me to their namesake, I told Cindy I would be right back.

Climbing the stairs, two different boys stared as I passed, trying hard to eyefuck me while I refused to acknowledge them. There was still plenty of time for boys, and they were both too appealing for me to risk getting distracted. I wanted to see the other bands.

Luckily at the top of the stairs I found Dawn and Gemma, who accompanied me back to the makeshift bar. I flirted with a different bartender, trading my finsta for a drink and the feeling of his eyes watching my legs as we walked away.

Back downstairs, Dreams were finishing up their set as we found Natalie in the crowd. She'd met some guy, and they were talking very close... Until he caught sight of me. It was like Natalie disappeared, and I was the only one there— his eyes were glued to my body, he kept getting way too close as we spoke, and was weirdly persistent in trying to get my number. Natalie had to chase him off with a scathing remark after I politely dodged the question for a fifth time; it was hard to tell if she was motivated more by her overprotective instincts, or jealousy.

I didn't have time to wonder, as the sound of feedback filled the basement. I turned back to the stage preparing myself for another assault on my ears, but was pleasantly surprised to find a less hardcore looking band taking the stage. They even had two female members, the drummer and the bassist, setting up and laughing with a tall, shaggy-blond guitarist. But it was the man at center stage who caught my eyes like a magnet.

He was tall too, but with long dark hair, kept out of his eyes by a bandana tied as a head band. He was wearing tight black jeans and just a deep red suit jacket, exposing his defined but not strapping chest underneath. It was a bit of a strange look, but he wore it like a rock star, standing with the swagger of someone who was born to have all eyes on them.

It took my brain a bit to realize it, but based on my racing heart and sweaty palms, my body knew it right away; I wanted him.

"How we all doing tonight?"

We screamed in response, the other girls just as infatuated as I was, along with most of the crowd. He had everyone in the building focused on him.

"Good. We're 'Seeing Stars', this is 'Welcome to the Future'."

They launched right into a song; a driving, upbeat rhythm with a catchy hook and a woah-oh chorus that had us all singing along, even if I didn't know the words. He was great, and not just in comparison to the other singers, hitting every note just right and commanding the stage as he did. He drove the band right from one song into the next, which had bouncy energy that got me jumping up and down, holding Natalie's hand to stay together. By the third song I was exhausted and out of drink (downed and spilled), but I just kept dancing.

It felt good to go absolutely crazy, to be able to scream and shout and dance however I wanted. It was just like the New Year's party, just like I'd hoped— I was free to enjoy myself. Of course, there were still boys around, staring as I whirled past them or trying to put hands around my waist and slide up behind me when I stopped for a breather. But I outmaneuvered their drunken holds, spinning and dipping and using my friends as barriers or sacrifices to keep guys off of me. And I always kept the location of the stage in mind, kept trying to push a little closer, hoping the singer would spot me going crazy to his music.

They paused after a few more, taking a break to drink as the drummer lit a cigarette. The singer made a little conversation with his bassist, laughed, then lazily grabbed the mic, settling down on a speaker.

"We just wanna thank Skullfucker and Dreams for playing, and The Collective for having us for the THIRD TIME!..."

The drums and bass went off on a series of flourishes, and the crowd cheered, me included, though I'm not sure why. My voice was breaking, worn out by all my singing and screaming. When we'd quieted, the singer continued, pointing out at us and sweeping his hand across his body in a dramatic gesture.

"...And of course, all you fucking beautiful people."

On his sweep, he made eye contact with me through the crowd. I don't know what took hold of me, but I had a rush of absolute confidence like I'd never felt before, as that hot guy took me in. I winked. I didn't even think about it, it just felt right. I wanted him to do whatever he wanted to my hot, tight body. He was owning the crowd and the set— I wanted to tell him he could own me, for the night.

There was a flash of something across his face, a look almost like pain. But he was a professional, on the job, and after the hitch his eyes kept moving... But he knew, and I knew. He shook me off relatively quickly, and was in charge again, hyping the crowd up as the guitarist started playing a suspiciously familiar riff.

"I wanna see EVERYONE dancing for this next one!"

Then the drums and bass kicked in, and I knew why I recognized the song. It was a cover, a song originally by Paramore called 'Misery Business'. It was old but great, one of those songs you heard in formative years that changed your taste, and by extension your life.

I had liked their originals, but playing one of my favorite songs, one I knew by heart? I went absolutely wild. Tossing my hair, jumping and spinning and dancing and mostly screaming my head off with the lyrics.

"Woahhh I never meant to brag! But I got him where I want him noww!!"

It was a somewhat fitting song for the night. But I didn't give that any thought at the time, just enjoying myself, emptying my brain of thoughts and worries. Even though the song was written from a female perspective (Haley Williams is a goddess), he didn't do that thing male singers sometimes do where they gender-bend the lyrics. Instead he owned it, a sign of his total self-security. God did I want him.

When they finished, everyone in the house was a puddle of sweat, fully exhausted by the rousing performance. The band was as tired as us in the audience, and slowed things down for a pair of songs that still had more energy than anything Dreams played. By the end of the second, lighters and cell-phones had been raised in semi-ironic reverence, and the mutters and buzz around me told the crowd was ready for more.

He, the singer, knew it too, finger on the pulse of the whole house. He turned to his bandmates, had another bantering conversation that we couldn't hear but hung on the edge of. Just as we became restless, losing interest, he turned back with a smile so wide it was obvious that he knew exactly what he was doing.

"Alright... We got one more for ya... This one's a classic, you all better sing along."

He turned, spoke to his guitarist, leaned over the drums to speak to his drummer. We were all shouting to him, dying for them to start playing whatever song they had in store for us. We trusted him, knew he would let us have it. But he wanted to tease, make us prove we wanted it. He was so like Jaxx, and so unlike him, all at once.

He was going to be mine.

"...All the... Small things..."

Of course we all knew it, everyone screaming in joy, the whole crowd singing along by the third word. Everyone was jumping and jostling with energy to match the riffing guitar, and though I was separated from Nat and friends I didn't mind. There were no bad vibes, just a collective heaving mass, circulating me through like a drop of water in the ocean. It was the perfect closing song for the set, an instant tap into everyone's childhood, pop enough for everyone to have heard it endless times, and just punk enough to pass so people could unironically love it.

"Say it ain't so! I will not go! Turn the lights off! Carry me home!"

I screamed the chorus into the face of anyone I could find; Nat, boys, Dawn, anyone. The crowd picked me up and moved, I don't even know how, and I found myself standing at the edge of the stage, looking right at him. He saw me too, and though he kept performing, I knew I had him.

Close up he was even more impressive, tall and moving with a smooth ease, a rhythmic swagger that seemed preternaturally in-time with the music. He had a new-age handsomeness to his face; boyish, angular good looks like a young A-list heart-throb. And his eyes, so light-brown they almost appeared gold, were fully on me.

Even feeling as full of myself as I was, he shook me for a moment, locking eyes. He wasn't like the other boys, immediately drawn south to take in my exposed skin; he held my gaze as I sang along with him, so I'd didn't realize he was walking towards me until he jumped down from the stage, wrapping his arm around my shoulder and pulling me in. I didn't mind being jostled by him or the crowd drawing close, because I felt so special as he brought the mic to our lips. I knew exactly what to do, singing as loudly as I could along with him for the mic— luckily, the wordless post-chorus was easy to remember.

"Na-na na na-na na na na na! Na-na na na-na na na na!"

He only stayed for a few seconds, quickly jumping back on stage to lead the crowd through a final repetition of the chorus. I was carried by their frenzied energy, swept further away from the stage by the press of bodies frantic to get closer to him. But it was okay. He hadn't jumped in for anyone else. Just me. I was still bouncing and dancing and screaming and absolutely free, and I wasn't worried about a thing. It would work itself out, like the whole night was. He would find me; if not, I would find him.

Eventually, tragically, the song had to come to a close, though we all tried to keep it going, still singing the chorus as the band let their instruments ring out final notes and took their bows. When we'd accepted reality, I tried to push towards the stage, hoping to catch another glimpse of the singer, maybe speak to him or catch his name. No luck; the crowd was too thick, and then Nat grabbed my hand, pulling me towards the stairs. But like I said, I had all of the time in the world to find him, so I ran ahead of her, badly in need of some water— and another drink.

"Last one to the bar buys shots!"

She and Dawn and Gemma all yelled; 'not fair,' 'you're cheating,' 'be careful!'... But I was already dodging between confused boys, loping up three steps at a time, giggling at my own antics. The party was so much fun!

Of course I'd been stupid; we were never going to be paying for drinks. By the time the girls caught up, I was sipping something and giving the newest bartender my Snapchat. When they all had the same in their hands, we swooped in to one of the emptied tables for a debrief. Gemma and Dawn were absolutely bursting with positive vibes about the show, expressing them with childish glee.

"Oh my god that was so cool!"

"Seriously. Seeing Stars was sooo good! They're gonna blow up soon."

"I don't know... Their covers were good... but the original stuff was kinda meh... What about Skullfucker? Wasn't Marcus fucking great?!"

Natalie interjected her new favorite band into the conversation loudly. I rolled my eyes, but Gemma and Dawn were eager to agree.

"Oh my god SO fucking heavy! The pit for that one song was crazy!"

"Yeah, SO fucking cool. This whole HOUSE is so fucking cool!"

"Yeah, right? This kind of thing could ONLY happen in a house like this... Can you imagine doing some basic shit like... Like living in a sorority house? So fucking shit!"

Gemma made the whiplash connection to Greek life, and I shook my head a little, trying to interpret what I'd heard before I responded. When I did, I cut through more of her weirdly heated anti-sorority invective.

"Ummm... I just pledged..."

I might have lead with an um, but I said it very differently than I would have a few months previous. Where I would have been making timid excuse, there was more than a little attitude. I was warning, 'careful what you say.' They didn't take it as such.

"Oh, Sami... You're in a sorority?"

"Not cool..."

"Yeah, not cool..."

I rolled my eyes again, at Natalie's condescension but mostly about Dawn, aping Gemma word for word. But I couldn't respond; Gemma was already back on her roll, coming after sororities and Greek life in general.

"...Cause, aren't sororities just like, paying for friends and then being bitchy to them?"

I stammered, a little confused why she was being like that. What had hurt her so badly? I was Siglam for life! I wasn't paying for friends...

"I couldn't be in a house with that many girls, anyway! Ugh, just, the hormones! And the whores... And the gossip and back-biting and in-fighting... I'd rather live in a frat house, if I fucking had to. At least guys say what they mean."

Oh. She was one of those girls. The girls who tried so hard to be anti pick-me that they came all the way back to being a pick-me, but just hated other girls at the same time. I looked to Nat, expecting some feminist-empowered support, but she just gave me a look that said I was on my own.

I was thinking about Siglam, about Cindy, about Mary. What were they doing right then? I hadn't spoken to Mary since leaving her with Cindy. How was she doing? It had been her first threesome... Five-some, really... Was she okay? Then I realized she was with Cindy— no way I'd hurt her enough to tell Mary everything going on behind the scenes, right? If she had, it would be easy to paint me as the villain, turn Mary against me...

"Let's just—..."

I just wanted to move on, shouldn't have brought up my sorority; I wasn't prepared to think about it, much less talk to Gemma. Luckily, a partly unoccupied table with four freshman girls at a party... fresh meat for the feeding frenzy. Saving me, a group of guys sat down around us, falling into empty seats and perching on arms and backs of the couches.

"Ayy girls! Like the show?"

"Fucking 'course they did, dumbass. Anyone need another drink?"

"Haven't I seen you around one of our parties?..."

They brought boisterous, drunken energy that the other girls were happy to match, and though I spent a few minutes sulking, the boys kept trying to bring me into the conversation, make me laugh, or just be stupid enough to get a smile. I cracked a little when one asked how I could possibly be gloomy in his company, and when his friend pushed him off the couch arm for his self-aggrandizing question, I full on laughed.

That opened my mood up, which opened up the conversation. Soon it felt like all eyes were on me, fending off intrigued questions, joking comments, and flirtatious touching from boys all around me. One across the table, right next to Gemma, wanted to know my major while Gemma tried to tell him hers. The boys on my left and right didn't let me respond, one taking my hand and tracing his fingers down my forearm, telling me how good a tattoo would look on my skin while he gave me goosebumps. The other was busy complimenting my clothing, although when I looked at him, it seemed like he was just sneaking lustful looks at my legs. When another boy vaulted over the couch and landed almost in my lap, I shrieked, and Natalie flipped.

"Oh my fucking god! Don't be such children! Be more careful!"

She grabbed my hand and pulled me up and away, the other two girls following closely. I hadn't minded the boyish roughness, but also didn't protest. I just let Natalie lead as I looked back and stuck my tongue out at the cute guy who'd been talking tattoos.

Natalie had to pee, and Gemma went with her while Dawn and I watched their drinks in the hallway. I was half-listening to Dawn babble about nothing when a big body backed into me, enough of a bump to spill the drinks I held, directly on to him.

"What the f—...oh, shit. That's my bad, huh?"

The breakneck turn from anger to apology made me laugh, along with the friendly grin that wiped away a threatening grimace. It was so funny to watch guys react to me... And it didn't hurt that he was cute.

"Yeah, it is! You owe me another drink. Two!"

"Oh yeah? I'm the one with a wet shirt..."

I'd put on my best bratty attitude and affected foot-stomping anger, but he could tell I was playing it up and flirted back, cocking an eyebrow as he cooly looked me up and down. It only took another minute for him to get me backed up into a corner, a long arm extended against the wall over my shoulder, his face inches from mine. But I didn't feel trapped or threatened as we continued to banter back and forth about how he could make it up to me; I didn't even learn his name or introduce myself, just following the natural flow of conversation. We were slightly silly, ricocheting from small talk to deep personal questions with a definite sexual tension in the air, intensified by the vague promise of cornering me, his body so close to my scantily clad, oh-so-vulnerable beauty.

The only thing ruining it was Dawn, who just wouldn't catch the hint of our body language, and kept trying to respond to his questions or make little comments to push herself in. He was cool about it, trying to ignore her, but I could tell he was annoyed. I was too— it was hard resist turning on her; 'find your own dick, hop off mine.' But then Nat and Gemma came out of the bathroom, and Nat grabbed my hand with a disapproving look and judgemental sigh. That time I wiggled out of her grasp and stole his phone out of his hands, opening his Instagram to search my new profile name. Then I let Nat drag me off, waving goodbye with an exaggerated pout of disappointment. His dumb look of infatuation was picture perfect, stuck in my brain to think about later.

We went up a floor, and stumbled into a room that could have been in any of the frat houses I'd visited previously. We sat on the edge of beds, passing around a pair of joints as the room grew hazier and hazier. It was crowded with random people, and I found myself deep in conversation with a boy who I assumed lived in the room. He'd mentioned Greek life, and somehow I'd got to telling him about Siglam, and bid night, and how excited I was to be in my sorority. He was a little judgemental, but kept it flirty and light, making little jabs about Barbie-like sorority clones while I returned fire by criticising the anarchist grime of his house.

Unfortunately, Gemma was on my other side, and she seemed more than happy to swim in my wake. While she didn't show the outright contempt for sororities that she'd voiced earlier, she was dripping with judgment each time she pushed herself into our conversation, making his funny little quips much less funny by trying to make them real. As the previous guy and Dawn, I could tell he wasn't really interested in Gemma by how his body language kept cutting her out of the conversation, the little winces on his face whenever she piped up to ruin his jokes. I didn't hold it against him; after a particularly passive-aggressive comment, we totally blanked her and made direct eye contact, sharing a wordless sentiment; 'fuck this bitch.'