The tiny blonde's red cup, half full with a too sweet concoction, falls from her well-manicured hand, as she raises her hand to her mouth. The cup plunges to the floor, drenching the dusty and worn rug beneath her feet. Soaking her bare feet, and splashing nearby legs belonging to people too drunk to care. I decide to move her way; she is obviously upset and looks like she could use a friend. She sees me coming and bolts through the crowd. I call out for her but the bass drowns my voice. Within seconds, the blonde is gone.

My own feet torture me, stinging with each movement in the heels. God, why did I wear these? After a moment and a few deep breaths, I release the tension in my shoulders. They slowly fall with a final long exhale. Still looking for the blonde, I gaze around the room, craning my neck around a massive drunken rainbow of exposed bras. No sign of her. Some part of me can't help but pity her. I know all too well how it feels to panic in a crowded room. Elbows and hips start knocking me around like a pinball. The room getting thicker with bodies coming in off the street. The air moistens with the salty smell of sweat and beer mixed with raging hormones.
A Tightening in my chest clenches into my throat. I can feel my anxiety rising. It's been an hour since Kat dissolved into the house and I cant find any sign of her jet black bob cut or her red dress. I reach for my bracelet and a hand finds my wrist. It spins me around sharply. It's Kat, and she's clearly wasted already. Her cup of beer sloshes about and spills over the lid.
"Hey girl!" She slurs happily, "Follow me, I want to introduce you to my friends. You'll like them." Her words ooze like a soft serve ice cream machine, slow and smooth. A tall, equally trashed and shirtless lad hangs from her shoulder like a sloth. He whispers something into her ear that makes her giggle. She nods her head in agreement and shrugs him off, sending him on his way. "Kat, are you good? Should we go?" I ask over the music. It's so loud I quickly glance at the front door expecting the police to make an appearance at any moment.
She takes my hand and guides me through the crowd, the sweat on her exposed back glitters under the strobing light. I wonder if it's real glitter or just sweat. I notice she's wearing jeans and a black tube top, replacing her red dress. I decide not to ask what happened to her clothes. I don't want to seem like a prude. When preparing to come to college, I told myself I would reinvent myself, no more high school shit. The last thing I want is to embarrass myself.
We trek through the house. Obviously in its prime was a beautifully built brown stone with ornate, detailed woodwork. It probably housed a wealthy family with overly spoiled children. After years of abuse and neglect, its walls have stained the woodwork hidden in dust. A pang of sorrow comes over me, seeing something that someone poured their talent into fall to such despair.
A couple tangled into a heated kiss sinks into a hand-me-down sofa. I fight back the urge to slap one of the cushions, and watch the dust fill the air like neglected pixie dust.
We find our way to a decadent and worn staircase that I hadn't noticed when walking in. Walking up, I feel each step cringe under my heels, an annoyed groan under my feet. A glint of light from the wall catches my attention. Several dusty photos hang crookedly. A blue lacey thong hangs from the corner of a large frame. Its owner long forgotten. The panties aside, I glance at the scene in the photograph. An intensely handsome guy stands alongside on older stern faced man. Both sporting tee shirts with large Greek letters.
I yank on Kat's hand.
"Who is that?"
I ask, pointing at the guy. Kat squints with concentration at the picture, then a sly smile creeps over her face.
"Even a photo of him stops a girl in her tracks. That's Avery Duncan. He's a big deal on campus. Super hot. I don't know a single girl who hasn't had a wet dream about those eyes. Every pair of tits on campus had thrown themselves at him, and he shoots them down. All of them. Its strange really there's a bet going that he's gay." She grins, turning around and topping the staircase.
I follow Kat to the second floor and into a small room packed with people. The intensity of the party is strong, but this room feels calmer. The music outside the room muffled behind the closed door, leaving every surface to pulse in the room from the bass below our feet. Sound proofing pads line the walls, old empty beer bottles litter the floor and windowsill. A large television hangs from the wall, sending terrible music to an array of surround sound speakers nestled at each corner of the room. It turns out that the terrible music is a tone deaf rendition of Whitney Houston's I Will Always Love you, the wailing high notes sung by two dainty and belligerent girls. A hushed giggle escapes me. It's a karaoke room.

The off beat lyrics scroll up the TV screen to limit you just enough embarrassment that you push on to avoid further embarrassment. The song comes to a halt, leaving the two girls with irritated confusion.
"Okay, you tone deaf bitches. It's time for some real entertainment." A young cool looking boy says, shooing the girls along. On the mic to be heard over the chatter, "Ladies and Asshats, I mean, gentlemen. It is my honor to introduce this next talented.." the hype man glances at the previous singers, tilting his head slightly with a smirk and raises a single black eyebrow. ".. entertainer, the girl you'll definently want to get to know if you want free Broadway tickets one day. Miss Kathryn Cho." A surprising applause as heads turn to Kat, followed by cat calls regarding her tiny tube top. I watch with surprised jealousy and find a vacant spot at the window. I look out and notice that the lot next door is empty, just dirt and nothing else. My eyes narrow, watching the surrounding faces, each one intently waiting for Kat to sing karaoke. "Music majors." Someone states from behind me and scoffs. Turning around in response to the voice, as predicted, they had spoken to me. I feel as if I've seen the guy before, "She must be good." I say with a smile, not turning to looking at the deep voice behind me. Her glasses gone with her dress.
"She is. They all worship her. Music majors, away. They say she's some kind of prodigy." His velvety voice has my full attention. I peek up to his face again and my heart leaps into my throat. Words escape my mind.

I imagine the section of my brain that controls my speech quickly tossing its things into suitcases and running away. Slamming a door behind it in its exit.

I stare into sharp piercing green eyes, shaded under thick long lashes. Amused at my brain fart, he smiles and coughs out a small laugh. His teeth were like perfectly carved ivory, gleaming and obviously bleached white. I notice that his K9 teeth hang down just a little below the others, sharp devastingly hot. Don't do anything embarrasing Chloe I think to myself, grinning too wide and looking like a complete idiot.
A devilish smile plays on his lips.
A single dimple pecks his right cheek.
Formally, he reached his hand out, "I'm Avery," his low gutteral voice vibrates me to my core and lights a fire in my belly.
"Chloe." I chime my own voice too breathy. I throw every ounce of energy I can into calming my breath before I lose control of it. God, it would suck so bad for this greek god to see me breathe into a bag. Taking my hand gently, he gives it a respectful shake. "She's my dorm mate." I say, looking at Kat over my shoulder. Ignoring my trembling hand still held by his own. I gaze at our hands together and he drops it slowly. Immediatly the skin that had felt his warmth tingles in its absence.

Music fills the room with the familiar tune of Somewhere Over The Rainbow

Kat, her microphone, and everything about her seems to change and shift. She closes her eyes, and brings her hand to rest on her diaphragm, and she begins to sing. It makes my ears happy, her voice rising and falling in perfect pitch. Chill bumps form on my arms. She makes it look so effortless. Out of my corner vision, my breath hitchs as Avery bends down to my ear.
"Would you dance with me, Chloe?" He whispers, his breath hot on my neck.
He smiles, and my face burns as blood rushes to my cheeks.
"Yeah, yeah sure. I don't see why not." I stutter.
Avery gently takes my hand again, pulling me away from the window and into his grasp.
I place my hands on his shoulders, they're firm and massive from years of lifting weights probably. He holds my hips lightly, staring at the top of my head. I'm too nervous and embarrassed to look up. I don't think I can handle getting caught in his eyes again. Not when I can feel my breath quickening and my heart rate rising.

We start to slowly sway back and forth, ignoring the redirected attention away from Kat to our prom-like dance.

The tips of my fingers buzz and numb. From the mild hyperventalting no doubt, I just hope he hasn't noticed. What the Hell is wrong with me? I don't even know this guy. My heart beats so fast I can hear it. Things like this don't happen in real life and they certainly don't happen to me. I work up the courage to look up at him.
"So," I smirk. "Does this work on all the girls, or just most of them?"
For a split second he stops dancing. I gulp, thinking I've insulted him. Instead, he shakes his head. "No, actually I never do this. I've just never seen a girl like you at our parties before." He explains with a shrug.
I question if this is a prank. Looking into his chest, his navy blue Oxford stretched tight over his brawny chest. His muscles strainging against the smooth fabric. I inhale deeply, and the faint smell of cigar smoke and cedar tickles my nose.
"You don't even know me, and people are staring." I say glancing around nervously.
Avery raises an eyebrow, peeking at the room full staring faces. A faint puckering smile reaches his parted lips.

"I saw you when you walked in. Watching those girls taking off their shirts. I know you're new because I know everyone. Most freshman girls get right in there and join them, because they want to fit it. Not seem like a loser. But you didn't. The shock on your face was actually pretty adorable. You're different, I can tell. Girls throw themselves at me, and you can't even look up without blushing right now."
He tips my chin with his index finger.
"You haven't even had a drink. I think it's most impressive." He says.