WHISPERED TEMPTATIONS

Sorority Party - Part 1

「 ✦ Halsey's POV ✦ 」

10 months later — 1 month before the start of college.

"For God's sake, Hazel—wait up! I'm practically jogging here!” My voice echoed down the empty street.

“The house has walls, you know. It's not going anywhere! And please remember some of us weren't blessed with the DNA of a giraffe!" I half-laughed, half-panted as I scurried after my sister's relentless stride.

"Have mercy on my stubby little legs!" I called out, watching her willowy silhouette glide ahead.

The electric-blue satin of her dress caught the amber glow of the streetlights, shimmering like liquid metal against her cocoa skin. Each confident stride sent ripples through the fabric that hugged the perfect hourglass of her figure, while the silver ankle-straps of her strappy 4 in heels flashed like quicksilver as her endless legs devoured the pockmarked sidewalk down the street from Halo’s sorority house.

With a flourish that belonged on a Paris fashion runway, Hazel spun around, her mahogany curls catching the last golden rays of sunset as they whipped through the air like ribbons of dark silk. Her laughter—musical and uninhibited—echoed across the street as she danced back toward me and captured my hand between hers.

"Sorry ZIZI, forgot you don't walk much quicker than a sleep-deprived toddler after a sugar crash," she teased, her voice honeyed with affection. "Just got super excited there for a minute!" She giggled, and I watched the apples of her cheeks bloom with color, her amber-flecked hazel eyes catching fire in the deepening twilight, the stars beginning to wink into existence above her.

I let out a warm laugh as I gazed up at my sister's radiant face. "What's got you so amped about this party? You've been to Halo's sorority bashes before—what's special about this one?" I asked, tilting my head with curiosity.

"It's different this time—you're actually here with me!" She squeals excitedly.

"God, ZiZi, you never do this stuff!" Her eyes catch the streetlight, glittering. "Lo won't stop blowing up my phone asking where we are every few minutes, so its not just me! We're both excited your going! And to top it off —she hasn't seen you since before Christmas! She's going to absolutely lose it when she sees you!"

She punctuates her words with a gleeful twirl, before grabbing my hand with her warm fingers.

With renewed vigor, she tugs me down the street where we start to see clusters of laughing college students mingle on the manicured front lawn, red cups tilting precariously in their hands.

I laughed softly, tugging self-consciously on the black silk babydoll halter top that clings to my curves like a second skin. The delicate fabric whispers against my fingertips.

Hazel had to practically force me into this top since it showed more cleavage than I was used, and there was nothing tiny about my chest, so the girls were out in all their glory tonight.

She insisted it was time to showcase the metamorphosis I'd undergone over the past year.

"Not that you weren't beautiful before, Zi," Hazel says, her eyes gleaming softly.

"You absolutely were, but now you wear your beauty like armor and with confidence, instead of hiding in your own skin. I'm also so glad you go ride of those hideous glasses! They were a hate crime in the making." She tosses over her shoulder with a cheeky smile.

“Now everyone can see those pretty green eyes." She sighs wistfully. "I would kill for those eyes, and your dimples!"

Her glossy red lips curve into a smile as she turns toward the sprawling Victorian house ahead, its mullioned windows pulsing with amber light that spills across the lawn.

The thrum of bass vibrates in my chest even from here, mingling with the chirp of crickets in the hedges.

She floats effortlessly across the manicured lawn in her four-inch heels, her hips swaying in that practiced rhythm that draws every eye. She tosses waves and air-kisses to clusters of partygoers—football players with red Solo cups, sorority girls draped in glittering jewelry—while I trail behind, a warm July breeze caresses my shoulders.

The scent of spilled beer and expensive perfume grows stronger with each step toward the imposing oak door, propped open.

Walking through the front door, the bass thumps through my chest like a second heartbeat.

Through the haze of smoke and cheap strobe lights, I spot my sister's glossy black head of hair —so dark it swallows light—bobbing and weaving to the rhythm on the makeshift dance floor of pushed-aside furniture.

She's surrounded by a circle of girls, all of them laughing — clearly tipsy, some of them outright drunk.

Like Hazel, she's balanced on candy-pink stilettos that add four dangerous inches to her already impressive height, making her tower over the other women like some exotic bird.

Her matching bubblegum-pink leather dress clings to every curve of her body, riding high on her thighs when she moves. Each twist of her hips sends her hair cascading like spilled ink across her bare shoulders.

Hazel, never one to miss a dramatic entrance, throws her head back—exposing the vulnerable column of her throat—and bellows over the pulsing music, "LOU LOU, YOUR SISTERS HAVE ARRIVED!"

Her voice slices through the din like a knife through silk.

Halo pivots on those impossibly high heels, her smile blooming across her face—all white teeth and candy pink lips—as she spots Hazel.

She launches herself toward us, somehow defying physics as she glides across the sticky floor without a single wobble. Then her kohl-lined eyes land on me.

She freezes mid-stride, her smile faltering for just a heartbeat before it returns twice as bright, her gaze traveling from my face to my outfit and back again, a kaleidoscope of emotions.

Her eyes linger on my silk halter top with its plunging neckline down to my second-skin black jeans that hug every curve I normally hide.

Her eyes widen, pupils dilating slightly, a glint of something that can only be described as stunned admiration flickering within their amber depths, followed by —surprise, amazement, and finally, unmistakable pride—flickering across her features, as she comes at me quickly.

"HALSEY LEE MEADOWS!" Halo's voice rings throughout the crowded room before she barreled straight into me, wrapping her toned arms around my waist and lifting me clear off the ground, my feet dangling in mid-air.

The familiar scent of her coconut shampoo fills my nose.

I laugh, the sound bubbling up from somewhere deep inside me as I squeez her back, feeling the silky skin beneath my fingertips.

"You were always beautiful, but you look at you! You look so f*****g good, Zi!" She set me down gently, her warm hands settling on my shoulders, her amber eyes scanning me from my freshly styled hair.

She openly admires my black chunky platform sandals—the ones I practiced walking in for three straight nights—that add a dizzying five inches to my usually diminutive frame - with undisguised approval.

I felt heat creep up my neck and into my cheeks as she leaned in and pressed her soft lips against my forehead. "I'm so glad you came! Now the party can really start! Plus you can also help make sure the minor doesn't sip on anything but juice tonight!"

She flashes a mischievous grin with a wink at Hazel, dimples appearing in both cheeks as Hazel rolls her eyes dramatically behind her, bottom lip jutting out in an exaggerated pout.

"Lo, you know I never drink," Hazel says with a theatrical eye-roll, her glossy lips quirking into a smirk as she scans the crowded living room, searching for something—or someone—more interesting than this conversation.

"I'm only interested in the atmosphere... and maybe a few attractive upperclassmen." She smiles coquetishly as the volumn of the music turns up as "What's Luv" by Fat Joe starts blasting through the speakers througout the house.

Under our feet, the floor pulses with each thump of bass.

"Just don't make me regret letting you come," Halo says, her fingers absently sweeping a loose strand of hair behind her

"Almost sixteen doesn't mean ready for twenty-year-olds. Try anything and you'll be watching Netflix alone on Friday nights." Her voice carries the weight of an older sister who's seen too much.

"But you," she spins to face me, her frown dissolving into a mischievous grin, "have already crossed the magical threshold of adulthood. Tonight, we celebrate properly!"

The gold bangles on her wrist jingle as she grabs both our hands.

Just as she starts to tugs us toward the throng of writhing bodies on the makeshift dance floor, a cacophony of shouts erupts from the front yard, followed by raucous cheers and drunken laughter as a large group of men walks into the house.