Page 18 of Movers and Fakers

“You look great,” Marigold says.

“Thanks.” The word comes out stiff. “I guess we should get going.”

The sooner we get there, the sooner we can leave.

“This is so exciting! It’s been too long since we could all go to a party together,” Saylor says as she shuts off her vanity lights.

Anxiety rises at the thought of subjecting myself to a crowd of people. Drunk people, at that. But Saylor wasn’t lying. We haven’t all been to a party together in some time. Our schedules often take us in different directions. And as much as I hate going out, I hate the thought of my friends thinking I’m boring more. They’ve said plenty of times they love me for me, but it’s hard to believe that if I stayed home every time they invited me somewhere that they’d still feel that way.

I stand up and tug down the skirt of my pink dress.

“I hope something crazy happens. I’ve got writer’s block.” Marigold heads toward our front door as she talks. “On a scale of one to absolutely red flag toxic, how bad is it that I hope some guy bothers me so Jameson fights him?”

A laugh escapes me. Saylor shakes her head and pauses to pull on her boots. I slide on the platform heels I rarely wear and secure the ankle strap. They make me even taller, and it’s awkward towering above everyone, especially guys. But I also like the way they look, and the extra boost might help my confidence tonight.

“If you want him to fight so badly, have him join the Shadow Ring,” Saylor teases while grabbing her purse off a nearby hook. “Aurora could probably get Hayes to forgive you both for trying to expose the whole thing.”

Marigold scowls. “Absolutely not.”

The reminder of Hayes makes my stomach swoop. There’s a chance he’ll be at the party tonight; he’s been at plenty in the past. I glance down at my outfit, suddenly unsure of all of this.

“No second-guessing!” Saylor shouts, making my shoulders jump. She grabs my hand and drags me out the door.

“I wasn’t second-guessing,” I lie.

“You’re gorgeous, and we’re going to have fun.”

“If you say so.”

I almost trip over my feet trying to keep up with her. For someone so short, she’s very fast. Marigold follows right beside me, shaking her head and laughing under her breath.

Saylor eventually stops dragging me, settling for linking one arm through mine and one through Marigold’s, as though we’re off to the Emerald City instead of a frat house. We walk across campus that way while Saylor rambles about how some guy from the Love Birds app said he’d be at the party tonight. I’d worry more about her safety if she didn’t also inform us that her friend, Graham, was going to be there too.

Graham and Saylor grew up together, but he’s two years older and spent more time with her brother than her. But then her brother went to college in California, which led Graham and Saylor to hang out more. Both Marigold and Jasmine think there’s something between them, but I’m not as certain. Saylor insists he’s like a brother to her. Whatever their relationship, he protects her. Which is good, because as smart as she is, the woman has zero survival instincts.

Music pours out into the street as we approach Alpha Phi. I draw in one last breath of fresh air, savoring it because I know it’s about to smell like beer and too much cologne for the next however long I force myself to stay.

“I forgot how much I hate parties,” Marigold mumbles as we close in on the door.

“I didn’t,” I reply with just as much enthusiasm.

“Be positive!” Saylor squeezes our arms before dropping them. “Your attitude shapes your experiences.”

“Did you read that in a textbook?” Marigold asks, making me laugh.

Saylor, oblivious to the joke, replies, “No, a Substack article.”

Marigold shoots me an amused look as we follow Saylor through the door and into a realm of chaos.

There are people everywhere. We have to push our way into the living room, where all the furniture has been cleared out. Some people are dancing in the middle, but most are gathered in groups, laughing over plastic cups of questionable liquid. My memory of the smell was not exaggerated, and I wrinkle my nose as it burns into my senses.

“There’s Jaz and Shep!” Saylor shouts over the pounding music.

I keep an eye on her blonde hair in the dim light, but since she’s so short and there are dozens of tiny blonde girls in this room, I lose her quickly. Marigold, too, though I imagine she branched off to find Jameson.

Alone in the crowd, my distaste for parties and crowds grows exponentially. I start pushing through again, trying to find Saylor. My efforts are futile, so I pull my phone out of my dress pocket as I walk. It would be easier just to ask where they are over text.

Right after pocketing my phone, I collide with someone. My palms press against a firm chest covered in black fabric. Hands land on my waist, and I snap my head up in shock. Hayes Rosewood smirks down at me. His auburn hair is mussed and darkened to almost burgundy in the dim lights. There’s a mischievous sparkle in his green eyes that makes my heart skip.