Slammed (3 page)

LUCY

“You’re famous, you know.”

Dad pulls out his phone. “You’ve seen the video, right? Three-million views and counting.”

I push the phone away, looking around to make sure no one is witnessing this high humiliation. “No, I have
not
seen the video, nor do I want to. My head hurts just thinking about it. Shouldn’t you be all ‘that’s terrible’ and ‘don’t people have better things to do’?”

We’re at a coffee shop in the middle of campus. I’ve already been the subject of one selfie today, forever now to be known as That Girl Who Got Knocked Out by the Basketball. “It’s been a week. You think people would get over it, move onto a bagpipe-playing poodle or something.”

Dad’s smirking, clearly more amused than concerned by the whole thing. “You went down like a bag of potatoes, honey.”

I cross my arms. “Thanks. I’ve still got the panda eyes to show for it. Can we change the subject?”

Dad puts his phone down next to his espresso. “Sure. What would you like to talk about?”

“I don’t know. Anything exciting happening?”

“Apart from your run in with a spherical leather globe? No, not really, though I was impressed by the new recruit.”

“The guy who hit me in the head, Nate Compton?”

“The one and only. Not bad, is he? They’re calling him ‘King Compton’.”

I’ll bet.

I think back to that night, to the inked-up biker boy that seemed so at odds with everyone else. “He’s not exactly a team player.”

“He scored forty points. Doesn’t have to be.”

“I thought Manning was all about promoting sportsmanship, being part of ‘something bigger’.”

“Manning hasn’t won a title in ten years, Lucy. We need Nate Compton.”

“Sports scholarship. What a joke. Where did you even find him? San Quentin?”

Dad shrugs. “It is what it is.”

“That doesn’t mean anything.”

“I know what I’m doing.”

“I sure hope so. You are the Dean, after all.”

*

I bump into Amber on the way to class. She separates herself from a pack of similarly clothed individuals and bumps into my side. “Lunch with Daddy again?”

“He likes to check up on me.”

“I’ll bet. Couldn’t have you tarnishing the name of this good institution by getting drunk and being part of a locker-room gangbang now, could we?”

“No.”

“To the gangbang or tarnishing the university’s name?”

“Both.”

“All this goody-goody bible business makes me sick, you know. All this newfound fame and you’re hiding away in the library. It’s not right.”

“Famous for all the wrong reasons.”

Something collides with my chest, the coffee I was holding turning my shirt an insta-shade of how embarrassing.

A football spins on the ground. I look up and there is the man of the minute, Nate ‘King’ Compton, shirt off and sweaty.

He bounds over. I stand there waiting for him to say sorry, but he simply swoops down and collects the ball. “You should really pay more attention.”

Man, that body is distracting, but the arrogance. He starts to walk back to his friends, but I’m not about to take this lying down.

“Hey!”

He turns. “Got something to say, Cinderella?”

Cinderella? How dare…
I take a step forward, step right into his shadow and suddenly feel about a foot tall. “What, you’re not even going to apologize? That’s the second time you’ve taken me out with your butter hands. Least you could do is say sorry.”

He holds the ball up with one hand, examining the seam. “I don’t do sorry.”

I shove him in the chest. He may as well be a fire hydrant. “Well, what
do
you do? I’ll follow you all the way around campus if I have to.”

He smiles. “Be my guest… Sorry, didn’t catch your name.”

“Lucy.”

“Well, Lucy, follow me if you want, but it’s a long line, and frankly, you’re not my type.”

“Intelligent, you mean?”

“No, short.”

He turns and Amber actually has to physically restrain me.

“We’re not done!” I scream, people on the village green popping up at the ruckus.

He casts the ball to his friends, starting a slow jog to their position.

I’m seething. Never, ever have I been spoken to like that, with such disregard, such disrespect. “What a-”

“Prick?” Amber offers.

“I was going to with son of a bucket, but yeah, yours works. Clearly some village is being deprived of their idiot today.”

“If I didn’t know better, I’d say he likes you. At least he hasn’t said anything about running you over yet. In fact, yeah, I’m going to say he’s dying to get into those cut-price pants of yours.”

I smile, my head saying ‘hell no’ but my body responding otherwise. “I’d agree with you, but then we’d both be wrong.”

*

I barely hear a word the lecturer is saying during Ethics. I’m still thinking about this Nate character. Every time I do, I flare up inside thinking about his perfectly proportioned body, the way he smelt of cinnamon and sunshine. And those aquamarine eyes? Six and two is eight they’re gorgeous. I’m used to people acting with respect, with compassion, but him? He’s a blunt instrument. You can’t fix that.

There’s an odd pang in my core, a more primal register, but I push it away.
Never in a million years.

Amber won’t let it drop back at the house. We’ve got the den all to ourselves, Judge Judy laying down the law to a guy who looks like Sideshow Bob on TV.

Amber sits back and pops an M&M into her mouth, lips green today. “I bet he threw that ball at you deliberately.”

I pull my legs to my chest. “Which one?”

“Probably just trying to give you a hint.”

“A hint? We’re not in junior high here. You can ask someone to grab a coffee. You don’t have to give them concussion.”

“Guys are weird, all negging and that.”

“Negging?”

“You know, they insult you to undermine your self-confidence, make you vulnerable to their advances.”

“He doesn’t seem coordinated enough for such a tactic.”

“Who said you need a guy with a brain?”

“For what?”

Amber rolls her eyes. “For playing bridge with.”

“Bridge?”

“For fucking!” she bellows.

I pop my head up to make sure none of the other sisters are around. “Not so loud.”

“Tell me you don’t want a piece of that, just pounded into bliss by his big c-”

“Amber!”

She sits back with sudden realization. “Oh.”

“Oh, what?”

She points a chocolaty finger of accusation at me. I notice her nails are different shades of black. “You’re a virgin, aren’t you?”

“I am-”

I should lie, but I can’t.

She’s reading me like a book. “You are. My god, an actual, true-blood virgin.”

“Sounds like you’re going to sacrifice me.”

“To the first hot guy that comes our way, yes.”

I hold up my hand, show her my ring.

She takes my finger. “And what the
fuck
is this? It better not be what I think it is.”

“It’s a purity ring. My father gave it to me.”

Amber actually leaps from the sofa and does a dance in front of Judge Judy—either a dance or a seizure. I really can’t tell. “Get the
fuck
out.”

“Seriously. I mean, I know it’s a bit weird. It’s pretty, though.”

“And you really believe in that nonsense? Whatever happened to ‘try before you buy’?”

I used to believe. I used to do whatever it took to keep Dad happy, but being here at campus I’m not so sure. I want to live a little, open myself up to new experiences, perhaps even
that
. “I guess I’m waiting, yes.”

Amber seems shocked. “For what? The perfect guy?”

“Well, yeah.”

Amber laughs. “Newsflash, hon, but Mr. Perfect doesn’t exist, and all you’re going to achieve by going without is getting really horny and really angsty for no good reason. This is college. You can’t be a virgin here. It’s like being, I don’t know, a leper.”

“A leper? You’re really going there, huh?”

My cell starts ringing. It’s hot from sitting up against my butt.

It’s the guy from my date the other night, the serial killer/stalker.

Amber seems curious. “Mr. Right calling, I presume?”

“Creepy date dude.”

“You should really block his number.”

“I’ll just ignore him. He’ll get the point.”

“And this is precisely why
I
need to do your match-making, not your dad.”

“And what do you prescribe, oh magical bringer together of loins?”

Amber kneels up on the sofa, Judge Judy yelling “Baloney!” in the background. “One dose of dick, starting with the party over at Sigma Nu tonight.”

I stand up and back away. “Noooo. Nopedy nope nope nope.”

Amber approaches, arms out like a zombie. “Yes, yes,
yes
. Either that, or I’ll make sure you don’t get a moment’s peace all week long. I’ll crank Cannibal Corpse so loud you’ll think your ears have turned inside out.

“But I’ve got three essays to get in, a group assignment.”

“Precisely.”

“You’re evil.”

Amber smiles. For the first time I notice her tongue is pierced. “Hey, I may be bad, but at least I’m not boring.”

Boring
—the word bounces around in my head.
Nate Compton isn’t boring.
No, he definitely is not.

An hour later, Amber’s adjusting her outfit in the mirror. Her dress is a cross between gothic Lolita and Gwen Stefani, the kind of fashion I could never dream of pulling off. She’s going through the closet. Something lands on my head.

I swat it away and realize it’s one of her dresses—black, short (very short) and a little more restrained than what I’ve seen her wearing. I hold it up. “What’s this?”

She starts to apply lipstick in the mirror. “Mom bought it for me before I left, said I should wear it to parties, act like a ‘real girl for once’. It’s not my style, but hey, it’ll look great on you tonight.”

“Me? Tonight?”

She turns, lipstick hovering over her lips. “We’ve been through this. What? You just thought I’d leave you here to—I can’t even bring myself to say it—study?”

“That
is
what people do at college.”

She picks up the dress and tosses it back against me. “Not us. Not my roomie. You can’t come to college and not go to a frat party. It’s like going to Baskin Robbins and ordering vanilla—B for boooooring.”

“Hate to break it to you, but I am a little boring.”

She smiles and I really don’t like it. “Not on my watch, baby.”

*

I’m still trying to tug the dress down as we walk to Sigma Nu. My breasts are compressed together tight. I have actual cleavage on show, and my legs… I don’t even want to get started on how short this dress is. Either Amber’s mom is pretty lax or I’m a hell of a lot taller than her daughter.

Some jock wolf whistles as we walk past. Amber takes my hand.

I can hear the party before we get there. It’s funny, I’ve always thought about being a stereotypical college student complete with the parties and endless alcohol, but I never thought I could do it. Now that I’m here living it, I’m really wondering what all the fuss is about.

Sigma Nu is a grand two-story house (read: mansion) right in the middle of Greek row. They’ve gone all out for this one, the crowd spilling onto the street and the house lit by lights, and yep, there are those lasers again. A DJ’s set up on the porch, trap music thumping out of speakers unseen. I have to raise my voice to speak to Amber, but I can tell already she’s distracted.

A group of Amber clones runs over, a large girl lifting her off her feet and spinning her around. Amber introduces me as ‘The Virgin’ before leading us all inside.

If I thought it was hectic outside, inside it’s pandemonium. A guy runs past me completely naked, his penis whipping back and forth between his legs. Another guy is being held up by his ankles chugging from a keg, straight from the cliché book. There’s a girl duct-taped to the ceiling and a cat that looks completely terrified sitting on a turntable. I look to a crowd in the corner. Before them a guy and girl are making out. It takes a while before I realize it, but they’re doing a lot more than making out. They’re actually having sex right there in front of everyone. Amber has to tug me away by the arm I’m so spellbound.

“I’ve never seen anyone having sex in real life before,” I confess.

She’s leading me by the hand to the kitchen at the back of the house where there appears to be light. “What, you never walked in on your parents?”