• • •

My nerves are on fire. It really feels like there's a flame under my stomach, boiling up everything I've eaten today. There isn't much. I didn't wake up until Mom came into my room at eight forty, twenty minutes before Gray and I had to leave. I was too stressed about making sure I had everything for work and the party to eat more than a slice of toast.

By lunchtime, hunger and nerves were fighting a fierce battle and my appetite suffered in the end: I managed half of the sandwich Tad made for me, and Gray polished off the rest when I assured him that I couldn't manage it. Now I'm ravenous, but even more terrified.

The party started an hour ago but I'm still working. I'm on the closer tonight with Navya, so we don't finish until ten despite the last customer usually heading off by nine. Gray's due to meet me in fifteen minutes and though I last saw him just a few hours ago, I'm looking forward to the comfort of his company already.

He's been at Starbucks since five. I'm fairly certain he'd happily stay until midnight: he's a night owl, probably thanks to all the coffee he gets through, taking full advantage of the free refills, and the campus franchise is well aware of student needs. They're open eighteen hours a day, and Gray is there every minute that I'm at work.

Navya comes over as I finish counting up the register. We're the only two here since Georgie left at eight, along with a couple other staff I haven't spent much time with, and she didn't go without telling me to keep my wits about me. Those words are all I've been able to think about since she left.

Navya knows the deal. She has nothing to with Greek life and she's majorly critical of it: she rushed Phi Phi Nu a couple years ago, and it turned out they were just trying to fend off allegations of racism in the sorority. When it came out that they were trying to fill quotas, they lost a whole bunch of pledges and almost lost their recognition.

After Navya told me about Phi Phi Nu, I checked out their pictures on my break. There was one of the entire house, and it looked like someone found a conventionally pretty white girl and cloned her: there are twenty-six sisters in the house, each a slightly different shade of blonde, and I imagine they have no problem sharing clothes. The biggest girl is no more than a size six.

"So," Navya says. She hops onto the counter. "Theta Chi Theta, huh?"

"Mmm."

The door's locked. The place is tidy. All that's left now is for us to wait until ten fifteen, the earliest we can punch out even when every job is done. Rich doesn't do much, but he keeps a beady eye on the exact time we sign out.

I look up at Navya when I feel her eyes on me, like she's waiting for more details. She raises her eyebrows at me, her hands tucked under her thighs and her heels thumping against the counter.

"Do you know anything about them?" I ask as I shut the register and lean against the shelf behind me.

"Only that they're the most elite frat here," she says. "They're the oldest, and the biggest. Just ... be careful, Storie." She twists round on the counter, pulling her feet up. If Rich watches the CCTV footage, he'll give her an earful on Monday.

"They have a reputation," she continues, hunching over with her elbows on her knees. "I guess they all do. That's part and parcel of Greek life."

South Lakes University may be a pretty tiny college but we somehow have fifteen fraternities and thirteen sororities. According to Gray, who is a fountain of statistics and fun facts that he comes across in Starbucks, nearly thirty percent of the students here are involved in Greek life somehow.

It feels like they're everywhere sometimes. I wasn't expecting that from SoLa, but I've only been here a month and I can already spot a sorority girl from a mile off, whether they're wearing their t-shirts or squatting for photos around campus, or promoting their various events. The ones I've met have all been nice enough, but the organisation as a whole makes me feel weird.

"What's their reputation?" I ask. A sliver of dread curls itself into a tight ball that weighs my stomach down to my feet until I'm rooted to the spot. It feels like I'll trip over my own intestines if I try to take a step. I feel empty. Maybe that's just my hunger.

Navya shrugs and curls her fingers round her toes. "They're just very elite. Very secretive. They keep themselves to themselves, after everything that happened. They take the brotherhood very seriously."

I didn't think it was possible for my stomach to plummet further but it does, slithering along the floor and dragging my heart with it. That doesn't inspire the slightest bit of confidence. Maybe the party's a bad idea. "What happened?" I ask, already sure I won't like the answer. She pulls a face.

"Well, it's before my time so I might just be repeating rumors, but a few years ago a guy died during some kind of hazing. I'm not entirely sure what happened though, because the frat wasn't shut down after the investigation."

"Holy crap."

"And when I was a freshman," she continues, "three guys were kicked out for sexual assault. They all ended up in prison, actually, which is more than I can say for most – there were, like, nine different girls who came forward to accuse them of rape."

"Oh my God, what?" The blood drains from my face. The rest of my organs join my heart and my stomach, a slippery mess at my feet.

"Worst thing is, that's not even uncommon." Navya wrinkles her nose. "I did a paper on sexual assault statistics in Greek life and I literally cried when I was researching it. Frats get away with murder, I swear. Did you know frat guys are three times more likely to rape someone?"

There go my knees. My bones just turned to brain matter. I lean even more heavily against the shelf. I'm definitely not feeling good about the party. I've never felt like a target before – my whole life, being fat has felt like something of a safety blanket, the one bonus of being overweight – but now I'm not so sure.

The creep set me on edge last week. Now Liam's more interested in me than anyone has ever been, and Navya's a walking anti-frat commercial.

And she's not done. She leans forward like she's sharing a secret when she says, "Last year, there were a ton of rumors that the frat murdered two of the brothers and covered it up."

"What the hell?"

"They didn't," she says, hurriedly backtracking. "Two sophomores killed themselves. It turned out they were gay and apparently they had some kind of suicide pact? But if you want my two cents, I'd bet the frat's pretty homophobic. I wouldn't be surprised if someone was threatening them or something."

"Oh my God. I..." I'm lost for words. I feel sick. "That's awful. Oh my God."

"It's horrible." She shakes her head and heaves a sigh. When her hair falls forward, she twists it into a knot. "It didn't come out for ages so people thought the brothers were hiding it," she says, "but I did some digging and it turns out college suicide happens a lot and just doesn't get reported. If it did, you'd hear three stories a day."

She stops talking for a moment. Like Gray, Navya will easily ramble on for hours but she spies my expression and shuts her mouth. She looks a little embarrassed and she sinks against the counter.

"Sorry. I didn't mean to freak you out or anything," she says, after a tense few seconds. "If it helps, pretty much every flat is the same. They all have dirty laundry, if my research is right. Though that might be the opposite of comforting.

You don't say, I think. Part of me wants to grab Gray and head home right now, to tuck into my bed and go to sleep. But there's still a part of me that wants to go, the part that wants to see Liam again. It's a novelty to have a guy show the slightest interest. I don't want to end up kicking myself if I throw away my first chance at something.

"You could come too," I say, responding more to my own persistent thought cycle than anything Navya said.

"God, no." She laughs. "My parents would kill me if I want to a frat party. They don't even like me working the late shift. But they also won't let me live at home for free, so they've gotta cave somewhere."

I don't know how she can stand to live at home when she doesn't get on with her parents and they charge her fifty bucks a week to live at home, just a twenty-minute walk from campus in an upmarket neighborhood. When she's not working or in class, she's almost always looking after her brothers, seven-year-old triplets.

They were in here yesterday. Five minutes was long enough to turn me off the idea of motherhood.

"Your cute friend's going too, right? Graham?"

"Yeah. Is that more of an incentive?"

"Always," she says. "But I was just going to ay that you guys should probably stick together. And if you're going to drink, probably best to make it yourself. And if you lose sight of your drink, make a new one."

I'm not much of a drinker. I've never had the chance: I only ever went to a couple of high school parties, and my parents never drank. Mom had a kidney transplant when I was little and she decided to go totally sober, so Dad did too.

"You'll be fine," Navya says. "They have, like, ten parties a year. And they're pretty exclusive. This dude likes you enough to invite you and your cute friend." She grins and heads to the register when the clock hits quarter past ten. "You'll have two guys keeping an eye out for you, at least one of whom is absolutely adorable."

I glance at her. Despite the weight of the night's conversation, a smile somehow finds its way past my nerves, and a quiet laugh slips out at Navya's lack of subtlety. "Do you have a crush on Gray?" I ask.

She sighs, heavily.

"I'll be honest with you, Storie, I have a crush on about forty percent of the male population. Including Graham," she says. I love her honesty. It's refreshing. She holds nothing back.

When we leave, she grins at Gray and winks at me and waves before she drives home. She may be twenty, not far off twenty-one, but her parents won't let her walk the mile home.

"Hey," Gray says with that trademark smile. "Ready?"

I'm not. Especially not after Navya's horror stories. My mind is reeling even more before, even though the last thing I need to do is think more about it. But I nod and give him a smile and I tug at the sleeves of the dress I changed into once my shift finished.

"Let's go," I say. I'm not going to tell him what Navya said – any of it. Not yet, anyway. I want to try to enjoy tonight and I won't be able to if I make Gray even half as paranoid as I am. My brain likes to take the smallest niggling thought and run wild with it.

I want to see Liam. I know that. I want to know why he wanted me at the party so badly. I've already decided I'm not going to touch a drop of alcohol tonight: I want a clear head. I need one. I don't want to make a fool of myself if he's playing games, though I hate that I can't let myself believe he actually likes me.

"Can we stick together?" I look over at Gray as we walk to the Theta Chi Theta house. It's on the other side of campus, down a leafy suburban road that has been taken over by various chapter houses.

"Of course," Gray says. "I don't know anyone there. I'm not leaving your side. Unless you want me to." He winks and nudges me and I past a half-hearted smile over my fear.

"Be careful about drinking," I add, passing on Navya's advice. "Don't get spiked. And don't get alcohol poisoning."

He laughs and rolls his eyes. "I know the rules," he says. "I'm no fool."

We pass the library, right in the middle of campus. All the lights are on, highlighting students huddled over books and screens. The stress has already kicked in. Sometimes I get stressed just thinking about how much more stressed I'll be in the future.

It's a crappy cycle that I don't know my way out of, so I try to focus on the party instead, distracting myself with a different kind of stress.

I can't hear anything. It's strange. We're on the right road. I can see the Theta Chi Theta house up ahead. It's too nice a building for a bunch of college guys, old and fancy and verging on being a mansion. My idea of a mansion, anyway, which has been distorted by life in a tiny apartment.

"Wow." Gray steals the word right out of my mouth. We've never ventured to this part of town before, where the rich kids live it up in frats and sororities. "Are you sure there's a party?"

I nod, double-checking the piece of paper Liam gave me on Monday. Maybe that's the joke: there's no party. If so, joke's on him. We're ninety minutes late, and I've yet to give him a way to keep in touch with me.

The huge front door swings open when we get close. A couple of guys stumble out, each holding a red cup, and one fumbles for cigarettes before they both crowd around a flame to light up. Gray jogs over to catch the door and holds it open for me, and it's only then that I hear the music. I can feel it too. It's in the floor.

No wonder it's so quiet. The party's downstairs. I stick right by Gray's side as he heads to door for the stairs that lead to the basement, and the music erupts when it opens it. The party's in full swing already. I'm glad we're late. I can't think of much worse than arriving early and awkwardly hanging around with a bunch of strangers.

There are a lot of people here. There's space for everyone, but I still suck in a sharp breath when I realize how many bodies there are to navigate. Everyone's holding identical red cups, and everyone looks like they belong. Lots of guys; several girls. I recognize a couple from the Phi Phi Nu house photo.

No-one seems to notice or care that Gray and I are here. I'm just relieved that it's not a set up. That's happened before. When I was thirteen, a boy in my class kept asking me out and I kept shooting him down – I knew him, and I knew he was an ass – but he wouldn't stop. I eventually gave in and said ok.

The next day, I found out it was some kind of bet. He told everyone I was desperate, and he assured his friends that he wasn't into 'gross fat fatties' like me. He certainly had a way with words.

"D'you want a drink?" Gray asks me when he spots the source of the red cups. I shake my head. He gets one for himself and passes me a cup anyway.

"I don't want a drink."

"It's water," he says. "If you don't have a drink in your hand, someone will make sure you do."

He's a genius. I thank him with a smile, scanning the sea of unfamiliar faces until my eyes land on the only one I know. Liam catches my eye and nods at me, and he excuses himself from his friends to come over. There's a slight sway in his walk.

"Storie!" He finishes whatever's in his cup and throws his arms around me without warning. He doesn't let go until I hug him back, and I can't help but inhale his cologne. He smells intoxicating, and I close my eyes as I fill my lungs.

"Hi, Liam," I say. "This is Gray."

They do that kind of handshake that all guys seem to be born knowing, grabbing hands and bumping shoulders and slapping backs. Gray isn't that kind of guy, but he has the moves down pat.

"I thought you weren't gonna come," he says. His voice is slightly jumbled, as though there are no spaces between each word.

"I had work," I say. "I'm here now."

He grins. "And you have a drink," he says. He grabs his empty cup and knocks it against mine. "That's what I like to see." He peers into the cup. "Whatcha got?"

I freeze. I don't know enough about drinks to even invent one that could feasibly look like water.

"Vodka lemonade," Gray says, jumping to my rescue. Liam nods, one of those deep, slow nods.

"Nice," he says, drawing out the word. Whatever he's on smells stronger. He slings his arm around me and I feel his warm body against mine, the weight of his hand on my shoulder. "Come and meet the guys."

• • •

I don't understand the appeal of parties. From what I can tell, it's mostly just people hanging around and steadily getting drunker and occasionally doing something stupid. This is a step-up from high school, though: there's a terrifying darts tournament going on in one corner of the basement and an intense game of pool in another.

A Phi Phi Nu girl is lying across a table tennis table with ten shots lined up on her bare stomach, her crazy giggling audible even over the deafening music. A cheer erupts when she manages to peel off her t-shirt without spilling the shots, and a guy rubs his hands together before he downs every single one in a matter of seconds.

It's only midnight but I've already witnessed a guy throw up, who then came right back as though nothing happened and he got back to drinking. Liam disappeared to refill his drink ten minutes ago, leaving Gray and me like a sober island.

"I kinda wanna do the keg stand," Gray whispers, nodding at the loudest group. Two guys are holding another in a handstand as he chugs beer from a tube. I can't think of anything more disgusting but I don't want to hold Gray back. Across the room, one guy is passed out on the sofa next to a wild game of beer pong.

"Go for it," I say, and I follow when he takes me by the elbow and leads me over to the keg stand. A fresh cheer erupts when he puts himself forward and before I know it, he's upside down and laughing. Apparently the two whisky Cokes he's had so far are enough to give him the giggles.

"Hey."

I look up at the sound of the voice. I don't know the guy it belongs to. He leans against a wall, looking me up and down like a shark assessing a seal before it snaps. He nods at the door.

"Wanna go upstairs?"

Just like that. Nothing else.

"No, thanks," I say, and before he can try to convince me, Liam is by my side. He takes the guy by the shoulder and nudges him away, and he sidles up to me with a grin on his lips.

"Lost you," he says. He glances at Gray, whose t-shirt has fallen to his armpits as he chugs beer to a mounting cheer. "Follow the leader, eh?" Liam laughs. He swirls his drink and takes a big gulp, and he leans close enough that I can smell his breath. His hand is on the wall behind me, his body almost pressed against me.

"You're looking good," he whispers, and I don't have time to do anything before he mashes his lips against mine.

I don't know what to do. I've never been kissed before. I've never even come close, but now I'm in the middle of it and I'm standing still. I didn't see it coming and part of me is angry that I got no warning, but another part is thrilled because at last.

His nose digs into my cheek. Mine is pressed into his. His kiss is warm and breathy, a drunken kiss, his tongue hot and foreign when it pushes into my mouth. After what feels like forever, I figure out how to breathe through my nose while our mouths are locked together, and I'm kind of glad I'm pinned against the wall else I know I'd fall over.

There are couples making out all over the place. Now, apparently, we're one of them. He spills a drop of beer on my shoulder. It trickles down my chest and disappears into my cleavage. He doesn't notice, pressing himself closer as his tongue explores my mouth and I don't know what to do with mine.