When Chivalry is Called For
When Whitney Harrington woke up it was with the worse headache she had ever experienced. Her entire head throbbed so bad that she did not even open her eyes when she came to. She had to pee badly, and was not only in need of several ibuprofens, but her toothbrush as well as the taste in her mouth was horribly rancid. Whitney laid there for many minutes trying to will herself out of bed, yet at the same time hoping that she would fall back off to sleep.
After maybe fifteen minutes had passed, Whitney slowly swung her legs over the edge of the bed and placed her feet down onto the floor as she sat upright. She leaned forward planting her elbows upon her thighs and buried her face into her cupped hands. Whitney felt nauseous and light-headed. "What the fuck happened last night?" she wondered, but her head hurt too bad to try and recall.
She cracked open her eyelids for the first time and slowly spread her fingers to allow her eyes to adjust to the ambient light. When Whitney looked up, all she could see was a bright blur. She wiped the crust from her eyes and gave her head more time to clear, and when Whitney was finally able to focus, she became petrified at what she espied. "No, it can't be," she thought, trying to convince herself it was either a bad dream or that she was hallucinating.
What Whitney discovered was that she had woken up in Mick's dorm room in his bed. She looked around further and spotted Mick sitting in his desk chair with his eyes closed. The chairback was in a reclined position and he seemed to be asleep as she could hear him gently snoring. Whitney again tried to recollect the events from the previous evening, but the last thing she could remember was getting ready with Lauren to go to the frat party.
"What the fuck happened?" Whitney asked of herself once more. She began to feel even more nauseous at the realization that the only plausible explanation was that she had gotten so drunk that she had come back to Mick's room and slept with him. It was something she obviously would not have done in a million years under normal circumstances and Mick surely knew that. Tears began to well up in Whitney's eyes at the thought that Mick had intentionally preyed upon her in a moment of vulnerability and taken advantage of her once more.
Whitney sat there for a moment trying to collect her thoughts, as nothing really seemed to make sense. It did not feel like she had sex, and knowing firsthand how large Mick was, Whitney figured she would be able to tell. If they had done it, why was she still fully clothed and why was Mick, who was also completely dressed, sleeping in the chair?
"And where the hell is Lauren?" thought Whitney. The pair was supposed to go to the party together, but Whitney could not remember that they in fact had done so. Certainly, Lauren would have never let anything happen to her, especially hook up with Mick, but where in the world was she? Whitney looked around and found her heels on the floor beside the bed and next to a small waste can, but there was not any sign of her friend.
Other than waking up in Mick's bed, there was nothing that Whitney was certain of, thus she could not shake the dreadful feeling that in all likelihood they did indeed have intercourse. She absolutely did not want to wake Mick and come face to face with him, so she leaned down and picked up her shoes before walking barefoot gingerly towards the doorway where she found her coat and purse also laying on the floor. Being very careful not to make a sound, Whitney picked up her belongings and stealthily slipped out the door.
Once clear of Mick's room, Whitney immediately put on her pumps then retrieved her cell phone from her purse to call Lauren. "Pick up, pick up," said Whitney as she rushed to get out of the building while listening to Lauren's phone ring. "Where the fuck are you?" she barked when Lauren's voicemail greeting began. As Whitney scurried across the campus, she continued to phone and text her friend over and over, but to no avail.
* * *
Mick could faintly hear the sound of people laughing and talking in the distance as he walked down the tree lined street. It was obvious that he was in a very affluent neighborhood just by how brightly the homes were lit. The cost of electricity did not seem to be of any concern for the homeowners as every interior light inside house after house seemed to be ablaze, and each residence was illuminated by architectural uplighting in addition to the path lights adorning the driveways and walkways. When a vehicle pulled to a stop in front of several homes ahead of him and three loud girls exited, Mick knew he was getting close.
The fraternity house appeared almost exactly like how he envisioned it might. There was a short flight of granite steps from the sidewalk up to a gate that hung between two stone pillars with a wrought iron fence bordering the front yard, and the gradient from the sidewalk to the fence line was covered in ivy. The building itself was a two-and-a-half story, brick Georgian Colonial with a slate hip roof having wings extending off each side of the main structure. The portico featured four white classical Doric columns supporting a simple pediment which was adorned with the fraternity's Greek letters Ξ Ξ Ξ¦. As Mick walked towards the entrance he thought, "Certainly has Bradley Hall beat."
"Garrett Kaufmann," barked a fraternity member as Mick came through the door, accosting the newly arrived house guest with an outstretching welcoming hand. The lad was wearing a hunter green long-sleeved polo shirt with the fraternity's Greek letters embroidered in bright yellow upon the left breast. "Mick Michel" he replied while shaking hands.
"I am the social coordinator for Kappa," said the young man, "On behalf of the fraternity--welcome." Mick thanked Garrett who then began to run down the evening's refreshments and festivities.
"Over here to your left through the large open doorway is the dining room," said Garrett while pointing. "There's food, keg beer and wine--all free, but we do ask for a five-dollar donation for mixed drinks," he informed Mick before adding, "If you prefer punch, it's in the library through the doors behind me, so help yourself."
"Thank you," replied Mick.
Garrett then directed Mick's attention towards the staircase at the back of the entrance hall. "Downstairs is the rec room where you'll find foosball, beer pong and another keg," he continued before stating to Mick, "The second-floor residence is off limits to guests."
Before Mick could say another word, Garrett broke into the same spiel as more partiers arrived, which made for a good opportunity to slip away and head for the dining room and the keg. After pouring a beer, Mick filtered through the crowd in the dining room to see if he could find Sean but did not spot him. He looked at his watch and found that it was just shy of 9:30 p.m. "He's got to be here by now," Mick thought.
Mick walked back out into the large entrance hall figuring his friend was bound to be somewhere around. As he surveyed the room, he found the interior of the fraternity to be no less ostentatious than the exterior. There was a large oriental rug in the center of the room with several dark leather chairs and couches arranged around its perimeter, except on the side closest to the fireplace which had the fraternity's coat of arms hanging above the limestone mantel. The wooden floor had an intricate parquet design and the hall featured richly stained wooden wainscoting and millwork. Scattered around the walls were old black and white photographs of who Mick assumed were the earliest members of the fraternity. It all smacked of snobbery, elitism and privilege, and while he did not share Abby's disdain for the Greek life culture, he suddenly was not sure why he wanted to come so badly in the first place. Mick thought, "This is exactly the kind of place I'd expect to find Whitney Harrington," and before he had the chance to cringe that he might have just tempted fate, Mick heard someone call his name. When he turned around, Mick was aghast to find Lauren Palmer standing there.
