Premature Evacuation (Underground Sorority #1)

by Rachel Shane

  “What was that?” Bianca asked as I bent to pick up the discarded sash.

  “Another fraternity fucking with us,” Nate said, rolling his eyes.

  In pink glitter on the front it read: Future Homeless Person. The white satin glimmered as I flipped it over to the back: Next year, we’ll live in your house.

  “Here, Mackenzie. You live there more than me. You should probably be wearing this, too.” Nate dropped his sash over my own shoulders.

  An anvil tore through my stomach. I pulled the second sash off and tossed both into the crowd where Layla scooped them up in disgust. I stormed after Corey, but lost track of him in the packed room. Everyone pushed against me, their sweaty bodies greasing my own. The blasting song deafened my ears, and the lump in my throat made it impossible to breathe. I battled through the crowd, jabbing elbows to break a path, until I reached the open air surrounding the counter.

  I leaned against the wooden bar and gulped steady breaths. My own hand curled into a fist, itching to sink into the same flesh Corey just hit.

  Within a minute, Bianca was at my side. “Okay, I think I need to take back what I said the other day about liking Nate.”

  “What the hell is his problem with me? I’ve never done anything to him.”

  “Except sexiling him nearly every night.” She swirled her straw around her drink, making the ice clink. “He actually took a graveyard shift stocking shelves at the Supermarket because he got sick of crashing in the gross Beta Chi basement.”

  A cold crackling sensation raced up my spine. Oh God. No wonder he was pissed at me. I flashed back to last year when Fallon and Liam would curl up in her tiny dorm cot and I’d haul my sleeping bag into the common room for a camp out under the fluorescent lights. Footsteps kept me up all night. Still, my fist curled against my icy cup, sopping up condensation.

  Bianca’s own face softened with the same sort of guilt rolling in my stomach. “I’ll yell at him for you.” All the fight deflated from her voice. I could see it in the swing of her hips as she strutted back to him: this only strengthened her crush.

  I broke free of my hideout and searched for Corey. When I found him, he was sulking at the opposite end of the bar in a chair, his elbows propped up by his knees and his head sunken into his hands. His face was sullen and the expression he wore could disarm an enemy on contact. The crowd disappeared and all I saw was his brooding body language. His eyes met mine, then flicked away as he scowled.

  I stroked the inside of his wrist. “Hey, let’s get out of here, get your mind off—”

  “I NEED SPACE.” He might have said the words calmly, a whisper. But that wasn’t how I heard them. He screamed them, kneading them into my brain. I need space. I Need Space. I NEED SPACE. The words echoed and bounced off the walls, ringing in my ears as if I had been standing next to a speaker at a punk concert.

  I rocked in place, feeling dizzy. The room spun but I’d only had two drinks so far. “Wh—what?”

  “I need to be alone for a while.” His eyes veered off in every direction except the one that pointed at me.

  Lumps piled in my throat, each one ineffective in blocking the emotion surging in my chest. Hot tears pressed against my eyes. I pushed through the crowd before Corey could see, so I could save a little bit of dignity. Outside, I let loose, my breaths coming in gasps, the tears streaming down my face. Each time the cold air whipped against me felt like a slap.

  When I got back to my room, I turned on my computer in a desperate search for a new status message to define the way I felt: like I’d been hit by a car and dragged for miles. About ten minutes later, Corey logged on and sent me a chat message.

  “You okay?” he wrote.

  “I’d write back but I don’t want to violate your space,” I typed. I’d apparently left maturity back at the bar.

  “I’m so sorry.”

  A pause.

  Was I supposed to write back?

  I pushed off from my desk chair and crawled into the closet. Jackets and shirts dusted my head; shoes or other objects poked my back and butt. I just wanted to physically feel as small and stuck as my emotions felt.

  He liked me, he had feelings for me, but he didn’t want to be with me. He wasn’t ready for a commitment. It was the opposite of Ryan, who strung our relationship out until it was good to the last drop.

  Instead, Corey prematurely evacuated before we could even form one.

  WEEKS WENT BY WITHOUT Corey. He never came out with us anymore and he seemed to have some kind of radar to stay away from Quigley’s on nights I went there. He’d moved on, erasing me out of his life as easily as I dragged an entire scene from my animation into my computer’s trash bin. In fact, Bianca told me Erin’s skinny jeans/high pony tail friend, Holly McKenna, had taken Corey as her formal date. I didn’t know if their status extended beyond that, but Corey liked things casual…

  So I tried to move on. But instead it seemed like I was just treading water to prevent drowning in the same manner as when Ryan had broken up with me a few months earlier. I threw myself into the sorority, helping out with the small tasks no one wanted to do, like taking meeting minutes during chapter.

  My laptop rested on my cross-legged lap as Layla loomed over everyone from her winged-back throne. “As I’m sure you’re all aware, what happened at the Crush Party was unacceptable.”

  I diligently typed her words but made sure to roll my eyes at Bianca. For weeks now Layla had harped about how the shirtless guys who raided our party could reflect badly on us if the Greek Org got wind of what happened. Our Rho Sigma listserv was filled with her rants about it.

  Ladies, if any of you extended a Crush party invite to one of them, I need to know.

  But no one had come forward and I didn’t see what the big deal it was.

  Now, she pursed her lips. “Our Date Haunted Hayride is coming up next week,” she said. “If anything like that happens there, I will cancel our Winter formal.”

  Groans shuddered through the room. The threat was stupid, the presence of the shirtless guys had absolutely nothing to do with us. We hadn’t violated any rules. Well, besides for underage drinking in a bar, but Quigley’s was outside the Greek Org jurisdiction. If any of us passed out in front of our dorms, then there might be a problem.

  When the Rho Sigma Date Haunted Hayride—in lieu of our semesterly Semi-Formal—rolled around, I assumed Corey and my deadzoning of each other would continue. A month ago, Bianca had suggested we all go as a group, boys included, but then Corey “needed space” and Holly squeezed into the space I vacated. I wasn’t sure if the group still included him, or maybe me, or if I should try to get over him by bringing someone else. But the last time I tried to get over a guy that broke my heart by dating someone new, I ended up with the same disaster. So I invited Fallon.

  We arrived in Bianca’s room where she lay sprawled on her bed, clutching her stomach. Gaudy flowered wallpaper clung to the walls, a square of faded pale pink carpeting covered the hardwood floor in the center of the room, and two matching lamps brightened the room. Bianca and Erin’s beds each resided against a wall, facing the closets, their two computer desks pressed together to make one long desk between the beds. They’d coordinated bedding to match our house colors of pink and blue. Bianca inched her head in our direction in small notches like she couldn’t quite remember how necks worked. “I have cramps.”

  “Did you take anything?” I said, unzipping my coat. “I have some prescription pills I take when mine get bad.”

  She groaned and held out her hand. I gave her two pills, which she downed with a glass of wine.

  I poured cups for Fallon and me. “Where’s Erin?”

  “Campus TV station.”

  “Again?” I plopped onto Erin’s bed and lounged. She’d snagged one of the coveted hosting gigs for our campus channel, where her report on local news would be seen by…probably no one. “We could just stay in and have a girls night instead.”

  “Can’t. The guys are coming.” Bian
ca concentrated her eyes on her drink and wouldn’t meet mine.

  “Corey too?” My chest stilled, equal parts excitement and dread. I’d just assumed he’d back out after our break up.

  “Of course Corey. The plans haven’t changed. I’m not going to play favorites. You’re both going to end up at the same events with me. Get used to it.”

  Yep, she had PMS.

  “We could go home if you want,” Fallon offered. She braced her hands around her red Solo cup where she huddled in a corner.

  I shook my head. This was my sorority’s event. Plus, yeah, I hoped he was only coming because he’d changed his mind. But when he arrived, he nodded and that was all. Not a single word to me during the entire time we pre-gamed with boxed wine. I took the silence Corey threw at me and brushed it off as if it were crumbs on my shirt. God, he looked good. He’d worn the jeans that made his ass look fabulous and my favorite shirt. Every time I got the urge to drink in the sight of him, I drank my wine instead. Bianca rallied once the pills kicked in and drove the conversation so it didn’t hang heavy and silent like an obstacle.

  When we were nice and lubricated, we grabbed our coats and the three girls scrambled into the back seat. I bided my time watching the night landscape whip by at high velocity. Corey’s head rose an inch over the driver’s seat, swaying every time he made a turn. Once, I caught him checking up on me through the rearview mirror.

  Nate turned to face me from the passenger seat, his jacket rustling. “So, you brought a chick. What, Corey turned you lesbian?”

  “Oh great. It’s pick on Mackenzie time again!” I rolled my eyes. “And let’s say I had brought Fallon as my actual date, so what?”

  Nate’s face drained of color.

  I wasn’t finished though. “In case you haven’t noticed, you have free reign of your room now. No need to be pissed at me.”

  My heart pounded fast and painful. Every muscle in my body itched to crawl into the front seat to see Corey’s reaction. But I kept my eyes focused on Nate.

  “Yeah, Nate, shut the hell up,” Corey said, hands gripping the steering wheel. He stuck up for me!

  We sat in awkward silence for the rest of the ride. Last week I’d had fantasies of stringing my fingers between Corey’s and pulling him through the dark into a desolate spot hidden from view. He’d lean me against a tree and push my underwear to the side beneath my skirt. We’d ride each other while everyone else took the usual hayride. Then we’d stumble back with guilty smiles on our faces and make up some ridiculous excuse to cover our whereabouts. But now I only fantasized about him saying a word to me. Any word! I wasn’t picky.

  We arrived at the Hayride site early and had ample time to browse the baked good selections at the store nearby. Fruity apples and spicy cinnamon scents coated the air. The wind turned the tip of my nose pink but the warm apple cider Corey spiked with a smuggled bottle of vodka kept my insides warm. Night crept around us like shadows and the silence between our group loomed until it became scarier than anything the hayride had in store. After a few more sips, Bianca grew woozy. Nate picked her up and carried her onto the hayride because every time she tried to step up onto the truck, she fell and started laughing hysterically.

  Corey skulked to the back of the ride, far away from where Bianca leaned her head against Nate’s shoulder. By the time I got on, the cart was almost full and I had no choice but to plop down into the only empty space…next to Corey. He scooted closer to the railing to make room but my leg still pressed against his. The swirl of his breath in the cold curled toward me, the only part of him that leaned in my direction. We passed into darkness, surrounded by trees, scents of pine filling my nose. My stomach flipped with each bump of the cart. Corey seemed so haunting and distant, like a ghost along the path. It was as if he wasn’t even there. Fallon squeezed my hand, which gave me something to hold onto.

  “This is so awkward,” I whispered in her ear. The scrape of the truck along the dirt path covered my words.

  “He keeps glancing at you. At one point he reached out a hand to steady you on a bump but—” Another lurch crashed her head into mine. We both fell into giggles.

  “But clearly he should,” I said instead.

  Fallon leaned over me toward him. “You having fun?”

  Corey didn’t acknowledge her, just stared at the Styrofoam gravestones lining the path. But a moment later when she faced forward again, he ducked behind me and grabbed her shoulder while screaming, “Boo!”

  She yelped and crashed into the guy on her other side.

  Corey let out a chuckle. “I admit, that was pretty fun.”

  My cheeks flushed from both the cold and my resulting giggle. It wasn’t directed at me, but it was something.

  The drive back to the sorority was far more awkward than the ride there. No one spoke the entire time, except for Nate who belted out hardcore rock songs like nothing was wrong. When we stepped out of the car, Bianca looked green. She turned to Nate. “Will you hold my hair back?”

  If Nate didn’t know about her crush on him before, I was sure he did now. And he looked just as flushed as her at the idea.

  Before he could answer, Bianca cupped her hand over her mouth and darted to the bathroom.

  “Maybe we shouldn’t have given her those pills if she was going to be drinking,” Fallon said as we breezed inside.

  “Whoops.” I seemed to recall something on the label about the meds causing stomach-related side effects if mixed with alcohol, but I defied that rule all the time and always came out unscathed.

  The only light streamed from street lamps through the window, creating large patches of darkness that surrounded small circles of light. Corey hid in one of the shadows and shoved his hands into his pockets while Nate sat on the steps, cradling his hands in his knees. Fallon plopped down next to him.

  “Hey, Mackenzie, do you guys have chips here or something?” Corey asked. He wore a blank, unreadable expression.

  I stifled a twinge in my chest. He used my full name. “Yeah, in the kitchen.” I hesitated. “Do you want me to get you some?”

  “I’ll go with you.”

  I took a slow and steady pace he matched stride for stride. On the floor, our shadows mixed together, the only parts of us still connected. I flipped on the light and both of us blinked at the sudden brightness. He reached above my head and slid the dimmer down a few notches, effectively setting the lighting to romantic ambiance. He leaned against the wall, one foot propped up, leaving a scuff mark on the white paint. I fiddled through drawers and cabinets until I found something that resembled chips and handed him a granola bar.

  He squinted at it. “This doesn’t have quite the salty goodness content I was craving.” The tip of his index finger touched my hand when he grabbed the bar.

  I spun around and tossed him a salt packet. “Better?”

  The corners of his lips quirked. “Listen,” he said, swallowing hard. “You okay? I mean, how are you?” He sighed and ran a hand through his hair. “God, that sounds so informal after everything.”

  My shoulders tensed. I looked away. “I’m fine.”

  He nodded, his eyes glistening in the unflattering florescent light.

  “If we’re continuing with informalities,” I said. “The impolite thing for me to do is not ask you the same question.”

  He raised a brow. “So what you’re saying is you don’t want to know how I am?”

  I shuffled my feet. “I guess you could tell me. If you wanted to.”

  He shrugged. “I probably shouldn’t answer then. Because usually people expect you to say you’re good. And that would be a lie.” He pushed open the swinging kitchen door and trudged back to the stairs. I stood there for a moment, my mouth hanging, my arms wide open, stunned.

  And yeah, I fixed my lipstick in the dull stainless steel oven before sucking in a breath and joining the group.

  “Bianca, are you all right?” Nate shouted at the top of his lungs, loud enough to wake people who may have been sle
eping upstairs.

  “Shush,” I snapped at him. “You can’t scream like that at this time of night.”

  “Oh, shut up.” He stood up. “We should probably go anyway.”

  When they reached the front door, Corey asked, “You girls coming out with us?”

  I surfed a wave of euphoria at his words and divided a glance between Corey and Fallon. She shook her head subtly. Excuses filled my head: but she didn’t see the way he flirted in the kitchen! She only saw the awkward silence between us. Still, I couldn’t chance the possibility of getting to Quigley’s and losing him all over again in the crowd. “Thanks but I think we’re going to call it a night. I want to make sure Bianca makes it upstairs okay. Plus there’s some salt packets here calling my name.”

  Corey held up the granola bar to me in solidarity.

  Nate tapped his foot on the floor. “Come on, man. I don’t want to get stuck in line.”

  Corey brushed passed me so slowly, his fingers grazed against my waist and lingered for a few seconds. When he finally removed his touch, it was like someone slowly peeling off the barcode on a gift, careful not to leave a trace of the price. Before he walked out, he shot me such a haunting smile that when the door shut behind him, Fallon raised her eyebrows to me as if to say, “Yeah, I saw that too.”

  FOR A WEEK AFTER the hayride, we never spoke in public. I’d see him at Quigley’s and we’d lock eyes. Several seconds would pass with us holding each other’s gaze in a drunken game of chicken. First one to flinch drinks. So he’d turn away and I’d down whatever was in my cup. Nate ignored me too. If he’d figured out about Bianca’s crush, he didn’t acknowledge it. I’d mostly spend my nights dancing provocatively next to Bianca, coaxing all the guys in the room toward us except the ones we actually wanted.

  Still, whenever we were in the same bar, we’d stay on our respective corners, me toward the back, him commandeering the front by the dart board. Eventually he’d make his way toward the bathrooms in the back. I’d throw my arms in the air and close my eyes as I belted out whatever song was playing to prevent myself from the temptation of watching him. And while I swung my hips in tune to the beat, I’d feel a squeeze at my side, gentle, a small acknowledgement that he was still thinking of me. My eyes would pop open and Corey would be passing right by me, head forward, giving away nothing. Like I said, in public, we never spoke.