The Orientation Party

Quinn

By the time I'm halfway to campus, sweat is flowing down my back and my blazer feels like a blanket designed by someone who clearly hated professional women.

I stop under the shade of a tree and peel off the jacket, immediately feeling like I can breathe again. The heat is suffocating, and walking three miles in business attire was definitely not part of my orientation day plan.

"Insufferable, arrogant, completely reprehensible..." I mutter under my breath, folding the blazer over my arm with more force than necessary. Cade West is absolutely the most infuriating human being I've ever had the misfortune of encountering.

Right. The numbers. I scroll through my contacts and dial Jeremy's number, pressing the phone to my ear as I continue trudging toward campus.

"Quinn!" His voice is cheerful, completely at odds with my current state of dishevelment. "How'd the ride with Cade go?"

"It didn't," I say tersely. "He abandoned me."

Jeremy's laugh is loud enough that I have to hold the phone away from my ear. "He what? That's... actually pretty on-brand for him. Sorry, I should've warned you."

"Could you possibly contact your cousin? I'm currently walking to campus and I'm fairly certain I'm developing heat stroke."

"Of course! Let me text Tasha right now. Just send me your location."

I thank him and hang up sending a screenshot of my surroundings. At least some people in that house have basic human decency.

Fifteen minutes later, a silver Honda Civic pulls up to the curb, and the window rolls down to reveal a girl with stunning red hair.

"Quinn?" she calls out, and I notice her eyes do a quick sweep of my outfit—blazer draped over my arm, pencil skirt, and heels that are now officially instruments of torture.

"That's me," I confirm, hurrying toward the car before she can change her mind about rescuing me.

"I'm Natasha, but everyone calls me Tasha," she says as I slide into the passenger seat, immediately grateful for the blast of air conditioning. "Jeremy's cousin."

Tasha is absolutely gorgeous—mixed African American. Everything about her radiates the kind of effortless confidence I've always envied.

"Thank you so much for this," I say, buckling my seatbelt. "I honestly thought I might die of heat exhaustion before I made it to campus."

"Girl, you were walking in this heat wearing that?" She gestures at my outfit with a mix of horror and admiration. "You're tougher than you look."

As we drive, Tasha fills the car with easy chatter about orientation, her classes, and how excited she is for freshman year. She has one of those personalities that makes you feel like you've been friends for years within minutes of meeting her.

"So Jeremy says you're staying at the hockey house," she says, navigating through campus traffic with practiced ease. "That must be interesting."

"Interesting is one word for it," I mutter.

"Those guys are sweethearts though. They're basically my adopted big brothers at this point, I'm over there all the time hanging out with them. You've got nothing to worry about."

"Most of them seem nice," I agree carefully. "Except for—"

"Cade?" Tasha grins, glancing at me with sparkling eyes. "Oh he’s the fun one. And so funny, he had me crying laughing last week telling stories about their road games. Plus he's incredibly smart, even though he pretends he's not. You know, last month when my car broke down, he drove all the way across town to pick me up, no questions asked."

I stare at her like she's describing a completely different person. "Are we talking about the same Cade West?"

"Tall, dark hair with those blue streaks? Tattoos? Rides that motorcycle he's obsessed with?"

"That's... that's him," I say slowly. "But he sounds so different?"

"Really? I mean, he can be a little intense sometimes, but he's got this protective thing going on with people he cares about. Literally everyone around likes him."

I want to ask if this mythical sweet Cade is available for trade, because the version I'm living with seems to have been replaced by his evil twin.

We arrive at the student union, which is already buzzing with activity. Music pumps from speakers set up around the lawn, students are clustered in groups with cups and there's an energy in the air that feels oddly... party-like.

"Wait," I say, looking around in confusion. "This is orientation?"

Tasha laughs. "Welcome to college, Quinn. Orientation's at seven. This is the fun part."

Oh. My gosh. I should I have known considering it’s nine p.m. but still this is NorthCrest I thought we’d have like a semi-orientation right before the main one.

I watch as people dance around and PDA everywhere. My pencil skirt and button-down shirt suddenly feel less like professional attire and more like a neon sign advertising that I don't belong here.

"Tasha!" a familiar voice calls out, and I turn to see the girl from this morning—Cade's girl—approaching us with a drink in hand.

Tasha beams. "Quinn, meet Jess. Jess, this is Jeremy's live in I was telling you about."

Jess gives me a once-over that feels distinctly predatory, her smile not quite reaching her eyes. "We've met. Sort of."

She's wearing a crop top and high-waisted shorts that show off her flat stomach and endless legs, her hair falling in perfect waves over her shoulders. She looks like she was born for events like this, while I look like I accidentally wandered out of a law library.

"You look..." Jess pauses, clearly searching for a word that won't be outright insulting. "Professional."

"I was expecting actual orientation," I say defensively. "You know, academic information, course planning, that sort of thing."

"That's at seven," Tasha reminds me gently. "This is just for fun."

But as we move through the crowd, I realize I'm attracting stares for all the wrong reasons. People glance at my outfit, then at each other, some of them clearly trying not to laugh. I feel like I'm wearing a costume to a party where everyone else got the memo about the dress code.

"You know what?" I say, turning to Tasha and Jess after twenty minutes. "I think I'm going to head home. Get ready for the actual orientation tonight."

"What? No!" Tasha protests. "You just got here! Come on, let's get you a drink, help you loosen up a little."

"I don't really drink," I admit, which earns me another look from Jess that I can't quite explain.

"You don't have to drink alcohol," Tasha says kindly. "There's soda, water, juice—"

Someone bumps into me from behind and suddenly I'm drenched in what smells like beer and fruit punch. The liquid soaks through my white button-down, making the fabric cling to my skin and rendering it completely see-through.

I look down at myself in horror, watching red liquid drip onto my skirt and shoes. The person who bumped into me—some guy with glassy eyes and an apologetic expression—starts stammering apologies that I can't even process over the rushing sound in my ears.

This is officially the worst day of my life.

"Oh my God, Quinn—" Tasha starts, but I'm already backing away, mortification burning through me.

"I'm going home," I announce, trying to hold my blazer strategically over the wet patches on my shirt.

"Wait, let me drive you—" Tasha calls after me, but I'm already pushing through the crowd, desperate to get away from the stares and whispers that seem to follow in my wake.

As I walk toward the street not caring about the distance, only one thought echoes in my head with crystal clarity:

This is all Cade West's fault.

If he hadn't abandoned me this morning, I would have arrived on time, properly prepared, and dressed appropriately. Instead, I walked three miles in business attire, showed up to a party dressed for a board meeting, and got bathed in alcohol by someone who probably hasn't been sober since he was born.

Tomorrow, I'm going to kill him.