Sin Two

I've just slipped on my favorite Alexander McQueen cocktail dress before realizing that this is the least approachable thing that I own. All dark patterns and hard lines. Grabbing the hem I pull it over my head and hang it back up, opting for a soft Ellie Saab number instead. The champagne color is much sweeter and makes my long black hair pop. This should do the trick.

I'm padding across the hardwood to the bathroom when a "shave and a haircut" beat raps at our door. Jade skips quickly across the room with a genuinely bonafide smile on her face and swings the door open to three other girls dressed to the nines. Looking over their wardrobe I can tell that I made the right call switching dresses.

All four girls scream excitedly at each other as though they haven't seen one another for the better part of a decade. I know that's not the truth because I met one of them earlier when Jade got back from her last class.

"Ellie, you already met Daria, this is Andi and Colette. They live at the end of the hall."

Both girls offer a tentative wave and a hello, while Daria takes the three liquor bottles in her arms over to the kitchenette. She begins pulling down what I assume must be every glass in the cupboard as though she's the one that's going to have to wash all those dishes when she's done. I hate her already.

"Ellie," Daria drawls, "what's your poison? We've got the stuff for Manhattans, or you can enjoy the real college experience with a Jeager bomb."

I stifle a snort. These girls wouldn't know a real college experience if it kicked them in the ass. I try for coy, "Oh, I don't know, I'll just have what you're having."

Daria produces a menacing grin. "Both it is!"

Shit, these girls aren't fucking around. Good thing I had something bready for dinner or I would already be toasty before we even make it to the party.

Daria goes about mixing and pouring drinks while I finish getting ready in front of the vanity. I usually wear my hair sleek and pin-straight, but after seeing that all the other girls seem to have theirs curled in what I assume must be a regulation style, I'm grateful that I packed my curling iron.

Andi brings me what smells like straight alcohol in a crystal wine glass and sits on my bed behind me. I take a hesitant sip of my cocktail and struggle to hold my face straight while confirming that it is - in fact - straight alcohol.

"So, Ellie, where are you from?" Andi croons sweetly and with what I gauge to be a genuine interest.

"Oh, here and there. I've spent some time in California, but I've been all over the place. I'm originally from the south." All of which is true.

"Really? You don't even have an accent."

Bless her heart, this girl is a stereotypical dumb blonde. She even sounds cute when she speaks.

"Yeah," I say with slight apprehension, "I moved when I was little. Never had time to perfect my drawl. Or my cooking for that matter." I smile back at her through the mirror while I put a light sheen of hairspray on my beachy curls. I don't want to give too much away, but at the same time keeping too many lies straight is a recipe for disaster.

"Oh, that's cool." We sit for another five seconds in awkward silence. Me, unable to fake it through this conversation any further - and Andi has clearly exhausted her only brain cell. I take pity on her and get up, pulling a pair of Manolos from my closet and slipping my toes into them.

I watch the girls a bit while they take shots at our little table, declining one myself. Jade seems awesome. Daria seems like trouble, and also the ring leader if I'm not mistaken. She has a fiery personality that matches her fiery red hair. I suppose that's a stereotype, and her hair is not naturally red. It's more of a dark dark wine color you can only get at the salon, but it suits her olive skin.

"Alright bitches, let's go fuck some shit up!" Daria yells to excited "wooos" at various volumes and pitches which I try and fail to emulate. I slip my recorder into my clutch and follow the girls out. I'm ready for a good time. It can't be too bad, right?