9 n i n e : Pemdas Hall

That asshole left me feeling awkward because of the situation that he created. And who was that guy calling him.

He looked pretty rough for a posh gathering on the Upper East Side. His spiked hair was cut short, and it glistened stiffly under the mood lights. The black sleeves of his clean cut button-up were pulled to his forearms, revealing an array of colorful tattoos. This man looks gang-affiliated, not to put it lightly. What the hell is he in a fraternity for?

Whatever, he's not my concern.

I prod over to where Nick and Cas were sucking face, and lightly tap her shoulder.

"Can we go?" I pout like a 5 year old.

She slowly untangles her tongue from Nick's, plastering on an irritable expression.

"We just got here," she says, rolling her eyes.

I know, but I'm uncomfortable. There's coke everywhere, and I don't have my own ride home. Why didn't I drive myself? I'm mentally slapping my forehead right about now.

Across the hall, Drake Staple speaks in hushed whispers to the tatted body-builder who'd called him earlier.

He sneaks a glance at me, scratching his chin. The caller, towering at above 6 feet, said one last thing, then he left Staple alone with a strained expression.

A blonde in a tight, low-cut dress latches onto his arm, dragging him out of the main party. Just then, I notice I've been staring too long.

His expression doesn't change as she giddily pulls him away.

Having no other choice, I plop myself down on one of the plush couches and grab another drink. The tatted man across the room takes a short glance at me while talking to a friend. He gives me bad vibes. Again, not to put that lightly… I just get a bad feeling.

My phone pings, and just as I think I'm going to get relief from this socially awkward situation, it's just a clarenton secrets post.

Oh, no—it's just an extended discussion about my alleged nudes. I swear, if I ever get my hands on whoever created this rumor or who the fuck runs this drama account…

Before I know it, my knuckles are turning white against my phone case.

I don't think I like coked-up Cas. She and Nick have exited the main hall, just like Staple and the blonde did a couple minutes ago.

Where are they going?

Against my better judgement, I follow them out to the lobby. Before they can escape, I spot the lovebirds waiting for an elevator.

"You ready?" Nick asks softly against Cas's ear.

She just giggles in response.

I roll my eyes, although no one can see me. I trail behind them and wait to take the ride up.

Shortly, the doors open to reveal a disheveled blonde and a stoic Drake Staple. We can all infer what happened in the last 5 or so minutes. I shift uncomfortably. There are two people you never go to a party with alone: Sophie and Cassandra.

After running a hand through his dark hair, he straightens. Clearing his throat, he steps out, but instead of following the blonde, he stands beside me. I move toward the elevator ride, and a hand lightly holds me in place.

"You should head home."

Who the fuck are you to tell me?

Sure, I did want to leave about 10 minutes ago, but now that you've suggested it, I don't want to anymore.

I want to see what's upstairs, I whine in my head.

I frown. "Who the fuck do you think you are?" I ask, yanking my arm away from him.

Again, all sense is out the window. I can be impulsive sometimes…

His face is the picture of nonchalant and slightly confused after my outburst.

"What business does a superior have in my personal life?"

He still looks confused.

"My romantic life," I finish.

He sighs, "What business do you have talking to your superior like that?"

"I—" I freeze up. Come on, come up with another come back. You can do it, Genevieve.

"Relax," he pats my shoulder as if he's greeting a little league player, "I'm only two years older than you—one, and two, I was just making sure that you wouldn't get distracted during your service hours."

I cross my arms. Just what the hell is he talking about?

"For your infor—" I start.

"I saw you and your friend giggling during orientation. Only service should happen during my service hours," he finishes sternly.

As if having a boyfriend would—

You know what, I'm not stressing myself. I have enough shit to worry about.

I decide to take the high road. By now, Nick and Cas are upstairs, doing who knows what. I trust that she can get home safely. Her grandmother won't even notice if she gets in a little late. That's why she's able to wander around with older guys whenever she wants. Her grandmother is barely capacitated enough to control Cas's whereabouts.

It's time for me to leave, too.

It might be only eleven, but I've had enough.

I look to the left, and Staple is still there, looking at me expectantly, a shift from his nonchalant expression before.

"What?" I snap.

"You look conflicted."

No shit.

"I need to get home," I sigh. Maybe if I text Claire…

I can't ask my parents to get me—that's embarrassing.

The man with the spiked hair enters suddenly with a satin clad brunette and pulls Staple to the side.

Again, that strained expression returns, and he sighs visibly at whatever the man is saying.

The girl by his side looks over to me inquisitively, pinching her chin. She's looking like what the hell is she doing here? Believe me, I don't know either.

After they're finished, the tatted man gives me a once over, then sneaks into an elevator with the brunette.

Staple ruffles his hair and pulls me by the hand through the back entrance of Pemdas Hall.

"Wow, so today's the day that I get kidnapped by—"

He chuckles. "Just get in the car."

His laugh is dry and implies only one meaning: do not test me. But I've been on a roll this week.

I close the door of the sleek black Audi and get comfortable.

He hops into the driver's seat and buckles up.

"Are you drunk?" I ask bluntly. I'm not dying by his hands tonight.

"I had one drink about an hour ago."

Damn, it's been an hour?! My social battery is at like half of a percent.

"No cocaine?" I squint my eyes at him.

"Never touched the shit in my life."

"How do you know how old I am?"

"Your application form," he grins slightly.

"I'm 17, actually, not 18," I fold my arms.

"Turning 18 this December," he bit back, slowly backing us out of the parking space.

That's not weird at all.

The ride turns silent for a while. Might as well play 20 questions.

"What's upstairs?"

"Fraternity-funded hotel rooms," he smirks.

I don't need to ask what that's for.

I sigh, "Are there more drugs up there?"

"Probably," he shrugs.

"How come I haven't had to sign an NDA to come here? Doesn't your affiliation with an event like this tarnish your… reputation?"

He sighs irritably. "Should you decide to 'expose' anything after tonight," he airquotes, "my legal team will handle it."

I roll my eyes. "No one who threatens with a legal team actually has one."

"Wanna bet?"

No…

Resigned, I try to think of more things to pry him with, but I draw blanks. Seeing his opportunity, he turns on the radio.

A techno song, meant for clubbing, blares through the speakers. He gets instantly irritated, looking at me as if I caused it. I wouldn't listen to this shit on my own. It sounds like something you'd hear in Forever 21 or H&M.

He replaces it with a soothing Alternative song. This is more my style. I don't give him the satisfaction of bobbing my head to it, though.

Sighing deeply, he keeps his eyes on the road.

My phone starts ringing, and Cassandra's face pops up. I saw her earlier—she was shitfaced. How could she coherently make a phone call?

"Cas?" I ask unsurely.

"No, it's Nick. She's safe. I promise."

"Oh, okay," I muster, unconvinced.

"You don't believe me?"

I know your type.

"It's not that. It's—I saw her earlier. I don't like seeing my friends like—I was just worried," I stutter.

I was going to go into Sophie's issues and my worries, but it's not the time… especially with Staple in the driver's seat.

"I get it. It won't happen again."

Right…

"Anyway, I'm headed home. I got a ride."

We hang up, and I catch Staple sneakily turning his glance away from me.

We're nearing the edge of the city, so before he can demonstrate the scope of his creepiness, I offer to put my address in the GPS.

Any evidence of awkwardness dissipates, and soon we're outside of my house.

"Thank you for the ride. I'll see you tomorrow at the lunch service," I grin with my customer service smile.

He smiles gingerly, then he pulls off.

Ever since that fucking party, nothing but weirdness has happened. Thankfully, I can shower, get in my bed, sneakily replace the borrowed dress, and go the fuck to sleep.

Turning my key in the lock, I finally get to take a deep breath that I've been holding.

"Finally, she's home," a voice booms.

Ah, shit. I mentally smack my forehead with my palm.

My parents and Aaron are sitting at the dinner table, enjoying some type of pot roast and who knows what else.

Mom's face twists from light excitement to bewilderment at the sight of me. And shit, I can't sneak the dress back.

Did I forget that I made plans with him?

"Di-Did we plan to hang out tonight?" I ask casually.

"No. I just popped by. You weren't here."

Who the hell let him in?

As if he sensed my inner monologue, he says, "Your dad was here when I knocked."

I don't think I told them about the party, either. Another smack to my forehead.