The fraternity house is an overflowing container of people, leaking from every available opening, including doors, windows, the entire wrap-around deck, and lawn.
“Come.” Maggie hooks her arm into mine and tugs me up the steps and into the thick of the party.
Despite the loud music pouring out to the front lawn, once we pass through the doors the volume increases. As does the experience. People litter every inch of the space, packed together in small groups, drinking and yelling at one another. We pass the living room, where people dance on the coffee table, teetering around open bottles.
Maggie glances over at me, her eyes as bright as her smile. She’s obviously enjoying this, and I try to use the strength of her grin to cheer me up because ever since leaving home, the conversation I h
