BAD REP(43)

“Yes you are,” he said in what I guess was meant to be a seductive voice.  He moved in closer to me and I couldn't help but back up.

“Gio!” Gracie squealed, coming up beside him and looping her arm with his.  She looked between us,  still smiling, unaware that the guy she wanted to hook up with had been seconds from drooling all over my boobs.

“Let's go dance,” she purred and Gio laughed in a self-satisfied way.

“What the lady wants, the lady gets,” he put his arm around her shoulders and looked at me again.  “I'll make sure to save you a dance for later.” He raised his eyebrows at me and licked his lips.  Gross.

Gracie was frowning, clearly a little confused by Gio's blatant interest in me.  “No thanks. I'll pass,” I said, moving away from them.  Gio's response was lost in the din of the crowd as I went into another room.  Watching people I knew getting wasted while they desperately searched for someone to rub against was mildly nauseating.  At what point did parties go from 'hey lets hang out' to 'I'm gonna drink shots from between your boobs?'  Probably around the time that we all discovered the embarrassment inducing effects of alcohol and recreational drugs.

I was normally a partier by nature.  I loved to go out and drink.  It was one of my favorite pasttimes and was what had drawn me to the whole Greek system to begin with.  I'm not going to be one of those *s and pretend I did it for the philanthropic opportunities.  People that actually spewed that crap were either complete losers or knee deep in serious denial.  Because being Greek was all about the parties.  And the keg stands.  And the ice luges.

But tonight I stood in the middle of this crazy college level debauchery and I felt a little empty inside.  My eyes followed Olivia as she danced on the coffee table, her skirt barely covering her ass as Pi Sigs leered up at her.  Milla and Tabby were grinding against each other while guys urged them to make out.

Gracie was trying desperately to look sexy as she writhed against a disinterested Gio.  And Jordan's house was getting trashed.  These people really didn't give a shit about the destruction they were unleashing in someone else's home.

When had I grown a f*cking conscience?  It was sort of annoying and making enjoying the party next to impossible.  I found myself a spot in the corner and sat down on one of the chairs that hadn't been upended.  I sipped from my cup, grimacing at the taste of cheap beer.

A few of my sisters came up and chatted.  I engaged in a rioting debate about the superiority of the thong as opposed to the less sexy boy shorts with several inebriated Pi Sigs.  I even joined in one game of beer pong.  But by midnight I was ready to call it quits and head home.  But I couldn't.  Because I had stupidly volunteered to be the goddamn sober sister.

I had already made four runs back to the Chi Delta house, threatening bodily harm on my sisters if they threw up in my car (which was finally fixed and road functioning).  I had resumed my spot by the back door, still sipping that god awful beer when my eyes zeroed in on the living room.

Jordan had walked in and stood there, looking around at the complete and utter chaos that had taken over his house.  He looked tired.  His hair that had started to grow out was sticking up on all sides of his head.  Even from this distance I could see the dark circles under his eyes.  As well as the bulging vein on the side of his neck.  He was pissed.

Not knowing what possessed me, I got up and edged closer to him.  Some sick part of me wanted to witness his detonation.  “Olivia!” I heard him call out.  I could barely hear him over the noise level.  My eyes darted around the room, finally locating our illustrious president as she licked a line of salt from a random Pi Sig's neck and then proceed to take a shot of tequila.

Jordan stalked toward his girlfriend.  I inched behind him, curious as to what was about to go down.  Olivia was trying to balance a shot glass in her cleavage when Jordan grabbed her by the upper arm and swung her around.  “Jordan!” she shrieked.  In her drunken state it actually sounded more like “Jahhhdunnn.”

Jordan reached down and pulled the shot glass out of her shirt and threw it on the floor.  “Hey,” she pouted but then tried to put her arms around his neck.  Jordan reached up and untangled her hands and put them firmly by her side.

“I told you to keep it under control.  You f*cking promised me, Liv,” he said tiredly.  My heart wrenched for him.