Changes Part 3 by: Henny Daniels


I love college! To me, it’s like an endless buffet of good times and attractive people— we’re all working hard so we can play harder now and live how we want to in the future; it’s a beautiful struggle. Tallahassee is the definition of a college town with two major universities within walking distance of each other, AND a community college nearby as well. 

 When I first arrived over the summer from a small town in Kentucky, I flat out did not know how to handle it! While in high school, my parents were very strict and wanted to ensure I had the best education possible with no outside trouble that could hinder me from bettering myself and moving from my hometown. For the most part, fun was completely off limits— my schedule consisted of school, homework, tutoring and music lessons solely. 

I never knew how boring my life had been until now, and to be blunt: I never want to go back there again! There is (literally) some kind of Greek event every night here, an endless selection of bars and clubs, oh and don’t forget the house parties— I know I have a few permanently plastered in my brain (don’t judge me).

I am glad that my parents cared enough to instill in me a few major core principles and values that continue to keep a small fraction of the old me existent. HOWEVER unlike back at home, the guys here seem to love me like the crispiest batch of their momma’s fried chicken! I’m in high demand. 

Thankfully, my grades have been A1 so far, but my extracurricular behavior cannot be looked at in the same light. I never knew how much I was into football and fraternities before now—the members happen to be smitten with me too. People have their own opinions about my promiscuity and what I choose to do in my free time. But hey, at least my grades are just as high as my body count— not many can say the same. 

Tonight I’m supposed to be meeting up with this guy that I’ve been talking to for a few weeks now. He said he had a surprise for me too, and mentioned something about it being right up my alley— whatever that means. I’ve been attempting to figure out what he could possibly have for me (being a broke college student financed by scholarships and wishful thinking), but I’m drawing a blank.

We’re meeting up at some house that I’m assuming a party is being thrown at, so I’ll be wearing my typical suggestive fashion. Tonight’s head-turner will be an emerald sequenced bra with low-rise baby blue Levis that could stand to be a size bigger. My shoes are a rare, four-inch floral Manolo that I took from my Momma’s closet when I went home on break; she’ll never notice! 

As I’m sculpting my jet black baby hair into loops and swirls with gel and a tooth brush, my phone goes off indicating that Wednesday (I keep a 7 player rotation, nicknamed by the day of week they’re assigned) has changed the plans and won’t actually be picking me up— he requested for me to meet him at the house instead. I was about to cancel on him altogether, but he sent another message saying that he’ll send me an uber. 

That’s more like it!

Once satisfied with the level of seduction being emitted as I observe myself in the mirror,  I alert Wednesday for the uber and then apply a clear layer of gloss to my pink ombré lips. My roommate rambles about how she rarely sees me and how cute I am— in reality she just misses stealing my food. She accepts my reciprocation of falsities and I keep it moving out of our closet-sized room and wait at the street closest to Paddyfoote.

Once in the car, my driver attempts to warn me of how dangerous my lifestyle is (without even knowing me); I just laugh and pull out my vape without asking. People kill me; assuming they know who you are with just one look!

When we pull up to the address, I’m feeling nice and wavy. I thank my overaged driver and give him a 3-star rating before exiting the car. 

Music is blasting, but there are only a few cars lined up on the block; it seems like this party is either wack or hasn’t really gotten started yet. Either way, I second guess my decision to come.

But then, Wednesday texts me a “WYA?”. I guess we can just go somewhere else; he’s pretty popular on campus, so I’m sure he’ll have backup plans. Another pull of my liquid THC and I’m headed up the two-stair porch.

The door is open, but it’s really dark inside, with only random spaced-out strobe lights providing a visual guide. I bump into people left and right, and can barely decipher genders due to lack of visibility. My phone pulses, and I remember to text back Wednesday to let him know I’m inside.

Less than thirty seconds later, the lights come on, causing me to stumble backward. A solid body stops my fall, and I turn around to see Friday up close and personal. Panic attacks my psyche. 

“Hey. Um— what’s up?” How in the world did he end up at this party? Especially without inviting me first!

“Hey girl, you looking good as usual! Welcome to your party!”

Did he just say my party?

“Hey Jaeda!”

“What’s up baby?”

I glance around and notice Monday, Tuesday, and the rest of the week— even players that had recently gotten benched. My stomach drops to my borrowed Manolos and my breathing shortens soon after. WHAT IS THIS?!


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