Fast and Mine

By: Sharon Page

Chapter One

Frat parties.

I’ve always dreamed of going to one but I never thought I would. In high school, I never got invited to the cool parties. I was known as ‘Claire Thomas: math whiz, brain, complete geek.’ I was the female version of the Big Bang guys.

At the start of high school, I was flat-chested, which had not helped my popularity in junior high. By the end of tenth grade, I had much bigger breasts. Awkwardly bigger breasts. And while I’d dreamed about having boobs since I was twelve, I was then too shy to do anything but hide them. I grew into my nose, got contacts, and looked much prettier, but strangely that didn’t help my confidence. I’d learned to be quiet and reserved and I stayed that way.

But now I’m in college—Yardley College in New Hampshire. And I am actually at a frat party. My dorm roommate, Abby Potter brought me, as she was invited and allowed to bring a guest. She also chose my wardrobe for the night, so I’m wearing skinny jeans and one of her T-shirts, which has a low, scooped neck. If I look down I can see inside the neckline to my bra.

I brought a zip-up hoodie, which is now covering the T-shirt and is zipped up to my neck. I stand in a corner, holding a beer that I have no intention of drinking.

I thought this would be thrilling.

I feel completely out of place.

The fraternity, Alpha Delta Phi, has an enormous, century-old brick house just outside the Yardley campus. A huge wooden porch wraps around the house, filled with people dancing and laughing. And couples kissing. In the kitchen, guys chug beer. Tequila shots are going around the living room.

I have the beer that someone handed me even though I protested that I don’t drink. But since I put the first one down earlier and got a second one shoved at me, I just keep carrying it.

I have to find Abby, so I can tell her I’m going back to the Yardley campus. I feel like I don’t belong here. I also have to call a cab.

I walk into the living room. A guy dances like a wild man, throwing himself crazily around on the cleared floor space. He crashes into me, his arms flailing. I stumble back and splash the beer on my jeans.

I try to find my way to a bathroom for a towel.

I find a door I’m sure leads to a bathroom and open it.

Oh God. There’s a girl sitting on the toilet lid with her skirt pushed up and a guy is on his knees in front of her. Her high-heeled shoes rest on his shoulders. Her eyes are closed, she’s moaning in pure pleasure, and his face is under her skirt.

I’m completely embarrassed, and I stumble back, pulling the door shut. My heart races and I’m breathing fast enough to hyperventilate. I don’t think they noticed me, so I don’t know why I feel so tense and awkward.

Potentially because I never dated in high school, I am still a virgin, and since I turned eighteen I’ve been feeling more frustrated about that—

Then I see him.

There are some guys you never get over and you never forget. That’s what Trey Madison is to me. He’s the crush I had since I was in Grade Seven. Total and complete desire for him has burned in my heart ever since. However, I was invisible to him.

It should be different now that I’m no longer in high school. I should be able to go up to him. Say hi. Talk to him.

But I can’t. My tongue actually feels numb. There’s a huge pain in my chest. My heart feels as if nerves and fear are smacking it like a stick against a piñata.

Trey staggers to the side and slams into the wall. Then laughs and sucks back his beer.

He’s drunk.

Now I’m worried about Trey. As he walks into the living room, I follow him. Just to watch out for him. He could pass out.

He stops, leaning against the wall, turns around and looks right at me. I should say something. Act surprised, as if I just happened to be there and recognized him. But I just stare at his beautiful grey-blue eyes helplessly.

“Hi,” he says.

“Uh,” is what comes out of my mouth.

He walks away from me. Because who wouldn’t after my scintillating attempt at conversation?

Trey heads for the stairs and I stand by the wall, cursing myself.

What was I doing? I was so hopeless. I could have had what I’d dreamed of since I first hit puberty. I could have talked to him. Maybe, maybe I could have even ended up kissing him.

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