Under the Same Stars(36)
Lois nudged me out of my spiral. “Were you imagining a night in?” she whispered.
“Sort of,” I whispered back.
She smiled. “Trust me, it’s going to be fun.”
“Okay.” I tried to smile back. “If you say so.”
***
Princeton’s eating clubs were all grand old mansions lining idyllic Prospect Street, no two looking alike. The sun had set, but thanks to the streetlights, I still recognized Tower Club’s imposing brick exterior and limestone arch over the hulking mahogany front door. Its tower reminded me of a medieval castle, and I wondered if Marco was there. The lights were on inside, but otherwise, all was calm.
But at the Tudor down the street, things were decidedly not. An American flag and Tiger Inn’s orange club flag rippled in the evening breeze, and music pulsed from the house. Some students had clustered on the front lawn, all in various state school apparel. I spotted a few guys in mesh gym shorts and hideous muscle tees. PENN STATE, a blue and white one read.
And us field hockey girls?
Well, I supposed we had come dressed to impress. Everyone on Tiger Inn’s guest list had congregated in Shelly and Lois’s room to get ready and pregame. “Don’t worry, we’ve got an outfit for you,” Lois had told me after taking a pull of strawberry Smirnoff. She’d opened their wardrobe, and sure enough, clothes came spilling out. We’d all ended up more or less wearing the same outfit: crop tops, neon blue biker shorts, Converse, and high ponytails. My orange FLORIDA GATORS T-shirt had been cut so high that if I raised my arms even a little, you’d see my bralette. I admit I was a little envious of Shelly’s makeup collection—it looked like she’d robbed Sephora—but I’d wrinkled my nose when she pulled out tubes of body glitter. It was called “Unicorn Snot.”
Now, Shelly peeled off Prospect and confidently sauntered up to Tiger Inn’s bouncer to confirm we were on tonight’s list—everyone got a thumbs-up. The mansion’s front door had been propped open, and the foyer’s old wood floors creaked under our feet. Its sconces had been dimmed, but I made out the grand staircase ahead of us. A couple people were sneaking up its steps. Whatever was happening up there probably wasn’t good.
We turned neither left nor right into the house. Instead, Shelly led us toward the music, which turned out to be banging in the basement. I tucked my arms across my chest, immediately uncomfortable. The lighting was even worse than the foyer, nearly nonexistent unless you counted the flashing multicolored lights from the dance floor, and the whole room was steamy from all the body heat. “Drink, Mads?” Shelly called, but it sounded less like a question and more like a command. Drink, Mads!
She pointed over to the bar, where two burly upperclassmen manned legitimate beer taps. “Uh, sure,” I stuttered, if only because I desperately wanted something to do with my hands.
“And until then…” Lois winked before she magically produced a small silver flask from her bra. She took the first pull.
“If that’s more of your Smirnoff, no thanks,” a sophomore teammate said. “Even a whiff of that stuff makes me want to vomit.”
Lois shook her head. “Bacardi.”
“Is it flavored?”
A nod. “Mango.”
The sophomore sighed. “God, Lois, you have the worst taste in booze.”
But she took a sip anyway.
Shelly and a teammate returned with beers in hand, and some of mine sloshed over the plastic cup’s rim when I felt a hand on my bare back. “Relax, it’s me!” a voice called over the EDM beats and I turned to see Marco slip in between Shelly and me. She planted a kiss on his cheek, but he didn’t seem to notice. “This sure is a statement.” He gestured to my ensemble and discreetly confiscated my drink. “Did you save any glitter for elementary school art projects?”
“Okay, make no mistake, ?lvarez,” I said as he gulped some beer. “This is not glitter.” I made a muscle for him to admire. “It’s unicorn snot.”
One side of Marco’s mouth curved up in amusement. “Unicorn snot?”
“Yes.” I tried to keep a straight face. “But no unicorns were harmed—”
“Did you hear me, Marco?” Shelly interrupted. “Let’s dance!”
“Yeah, alright,” he agreed as she began tugging him toward the dance floor. Something in me sinking, I watched him drain the rest of my drink before looking at me. “Come dance.”
With you and Shelly? I thought. No, thanks.
Marco tipped his head, like he knew what I was thinking. “You love to dance. I’ve seen the TikToks.”
My stomach swirled. My teammates had made so many videos of me shaking it on the sidelines during water breaks at practice, and it didn’t help that Dad contributed footage of my Angelina Ballerina moves after I scored a goal in games. My pirouettes were amazing.
I loved to dance, and to be honest, I really did want to dance. If I was going to be subjected to this party, I wanted to try to have fun. And to me, fun wasn’t standing around sipping beer with an already tipsy Lois and the other field hockey girls.
Who, I suddenly noticed, had all dispersed in different directions.
“Okay,” I told Marco, not wanting to be alone. “Let’s dance.”
***
At first, it felt good. The dance floor, even if it was in a dark basement with slitted windows that may or may not have made it look like a prison, felt familiar. If I shut my eyes, it was kind of like I was dancing with Connor at our JProm after-party, where everyone had changed into casual clothes. I moved to the music, and every now and again, I reopened my eyes and caught Marco’s. He shook his head and smiled, seemingly oblivious to Shelly grinding against him. I smiled back, a strange thrill twirling in my chest.