Chapter 4- Party Fouls

By Friday, I'd almost convinced myself that things with Marcus were reaching a sustainable equilibrium. We'd developed a routine: he drove me to campus, we avoided each other during the day, he drove me home, we retreated to our respective wings of the house. Polite. Distant. Safe.

Then Jules decided to ruin everything.

"We're going to that party," she announced Friday afternoon, appearing at my dorm lounge where I was studying. "The Kappa Sigma thing tonight. Non-negotiable."

I looked up from my marketing textbook. "I don't think that's a good idea."

"When was the last time you had fun, Aria? And I mean actual fun, not reorganizing your planner for the millionth time."

"I have fun."

"Name one fun thing you've done this semester. This week. Today."

I opened my mouth. Closed it.

"Exactly," Jules said triumphantly. "We're going. I already told Brad we'd be there."

Brad was Jules's on-again, off-again boyfriend who played lacrosse and had the IQ of a golden retriever. Sweet guy, but not exactly intellectual stimulation.

"Jules, Marcus might be there." I hadn't told her about Amber's invitation, but it seemed relevant now.

"So? He's your stepbrother, not your warden. You're allowed to go to parties." She paused. "Unless you're worried about something else?"

"Like what?"

"Like seeing him with other girls? Like maybe watching him do his whole playboy thing and realizing you actually care?"

"I don't care."

"Then prove it. Come to the party. We'll have drinks, dance, forget about complicated family dynamics and car repairs and all the other stuff that's been making you weird this week."

I should have said no. Should have stayed home with my textbooks and my carefully constructed boundaries.

Instead, I heard myself say, "Fine. But I'm not staying late."

Jules's grin was absolutely diabolical.

Three hours later, I was seriously regretting my life choices.

Kappa Sigma's house was packed, music pounding so loud I could feel it in my chest. Red solo cups littered every surface, and the air smelled like beer and bad decisions. Jules had disappeared with Brad approximately fifteen minutes after we arrived, leaving me alone in a sea of strangers.

I nursed my drink—something fruity that tasted more like juice than alcohol—and tried to look like I belonged here. Several guys had approached me, making small talk that went nowhere. I was about to text Jules that I was leaving when I heard a familiar voice behind me.

"Didn't expect to see you here."

I turned to find Marcus standing there, looking unfairly good in dark jeans and a gray henley. A blonde I didn't recognize had her hand on his arm, but his attention was entirely on me.

"Jules wanted to come," I said, aiming for casual. "I'm just keeping her company."

His eyes traveled over my outfit—a black mini dress Jules had forced me into, paired with ankle boots that gave me just enough height to almost meet his eyes. Something dark flickered across his face.

"Where is Jules?" he asked.

"With Brad. Somewhere." I gestured vaguely.

"So you're here alone."

"I'm fine."

"Aria—" he started, but the blonde tugged on his arm.

"Babe, come on. You promised to show me the roof deck."

Babe. The word made my stomach turn.

"You should go," I said quickly. "I'm leaving soon anyway."

Marcus looked like he wanted to argue, but Amber appeared out of nowhere, linking her arm through his free one. How did he have two girls hanging on him? Actually, I didn't want to know.

"Marcus! There you are. We're doing shots in the kitchen. You have to come." Amber's eyes slid to me, dismissive. "Oh, hi... Ashley, right?"

"Aria," I corrected flatly.

"Right, sorry." She didn't sound sorry at all. "Come on, Marcus."

They pulled him away into the crowd, and I was left standing alone again, feeling stupid in my borrowed dress and wondering why I'd let Jules talk me into this.

I needed air.

The backyard was less crowded, groups of people clustered around a fire pit or sitting on the lawn. I found a relatively quiet corner and pulled out my phone, ready to call a rideshare home.

"You look lost."

I looked up to find a guy I vaguely recognized from one of my classes. Tall, dark-haired, friendly smile. Cute, in an approachable way that Marcus definitely wasn't.

"Just getting some air," I said.

"Mind if I join you? It's chaos in there."

"Sure."

He settled beside me on the low wall bordering the patio. "I'm Ethan. We're in Marketing Strategy together. You sit two rows ahead of me."

"Aria." I shook his offered hand. "Sorry, I'm terrible with faces."

"No worries. That class is huge anyway." He took a sip of his drink. "So, are you a Kappa Sigma regular? I haven't seen you at their parties before."

"First time, actually. My friend dragged me."

"Same. My roommate's in the fraternity. He insisted I 'get out more.'" Ethan made air quotes. "Apparently I study too much."

"Is that possible?"

"According to my roommate, yes. According to my GPA, no."

I laughed, surprising myself. Ethan was easy to talk to, no complicated history or tension. Normal. Safe.

We talked about classes, professors, the terrible campus coffee. He made self-deprecating jokes about his lackluster cooking skills. I told him about the time Jules had set off the fire alarm trying to make toast. It was... nice.

"So," Ethan said after a while, "can I get you another drink? That one looks pretty sad."

I looked down at my mostly empty cup. "Actually, that would be great."

"Be right back."

As he headed toward the house, I felt myself relax for the first time all night. Maybe this party wasn't a complete disaster. Maybe I could have a normal college experience, meet normal guys, do normal things.

"Having fun?"

Marcus's voice came from directly behind me, low and tight with something that sounded like anger.

I spun around. He was alone now, the blonde and Amber nowhere in sight. His expression was unreadable in the dim light.

"I was," I said pointedly.

"Who's the guy?"

"None of your business."

"Aria—"

"Where are your dates?" I shot back. "The blonde and Amber? Shouldn't you be doing shots or checking out roof decks or whatever it is you do at these things?"

His jaw tightened. "They're not my dates."

"Really? Because they seemed pretty attached to you."

"And that bothers you."

It wasn't a question. My face heated.

"No," I lied. "Why would it bother me? You can do whatever you want with whoever you want. We're not—we're just—"

"Just what?" He stepped closer, and suddenly the sounds of the party faded away. "Say it, Aria."

"Stepsiblings," I managed. "That's all."

"Right." His voice had gone cold. "Stepsiblings. So you don't care if I take someone home tonight. And I shouldn't care that you're out here flirting with some random guy."

"I wasn't flirting!"

"He's getting you drinks. Sitting too close. Touching your arm every time he laughs." Marcus's eyes bored into mine. "That's flirting."

"So what if it is? You don't get to—"

But I didn't finish that sentence, because Ethan returned with our drinks, his friendly smile faltering when he saw Marcus.

"Oh, hey. Sorry, didn't mean to interrupt."

"You're not," I said quickly, taking the offered cup. "Marcus was just leaving."

"Was I?" Marcus's attention shifted to Ethan, and suddenly he seemed taller, more dangerous. "I don't think we've met. I'm Marcus. Aria's brother."

The way he said "brother" made it sound like a threat.

Ethan's confusion was evident. "Oh, I didn't know you had a brother here."

"Stepbrother," I corrected sharply. "And he's not a student. He just likes to crash parties apparently."

Something flashed in Marcus's eyes—hurt? Anger?

"Right," he said softly. "I'll get out of your way then. Enjoy your evening, Aria."

He walked away, disappearing into the crowd, leaving me with a churning stomach and Ethan's confused expression.

"That was... weird," Ethan said. "Is everything okay?"

"It's complicated."

"Family usually is." He offered a sympathetic smile. "Want to go somewhere quieter? There's a diner near campus that makes amazing late-night breakfast."

It was a clear invitation. A date. With a normal, uncomplicated guy who didn't make me feel like I was constantly on the edge of something dangerous.

I should say yes. Should take this olive branch of normalcy.

Instead, I found myself scanning the crowd, looking for a familiar dark head.

"I'm sorry," I told Ethan. "I need to—I have to go."

"Oh. Okay." He looked disappointed but gracious. "Maybe another time?"

"Yeah. Maybe."

I pushed through the party, searching for Marcus. I found him on the front porch, leaning against the railing, staring at nothing.

"Marcus."

He didn't turn. "Go back to your date, Aria."

"He's not—that wasn't a date."

"Looked like one."

I moved to stand beside him, close enough that our arms almost touched. "You don't get to be jealous."

Now he looked at me, really looked at me, and the intensity in his eyes stole my breath.

"I know," he said quietly. "Believe me, I know."

"Then why—"

"Let me drive you home."

It wasn't what I expected him to say.

"Jules—"

"Is probably occupied with Brad. Text her. Let me take you home."

I should refuse. Should call that rideshare, maintain my independence.

But I was tired of fighting whatever this was between us.

"Okay," I whispered.

His hand found mine in the darkness, just for a moment, his fingers tangling with mine.

"Okay," he echoed.