It’s funny how certain combinations end us in the strangest of places.

            A spilled cup of coffee and a new pair of jeans could land you on a date with a barista.  A new edition to Netflix and a final history exam can see you out of college and living with your mom.  A thrown football and faulty pair of sunglasses can throw you to an optometrist and new job when an eye surgery bill is too great.

            For me it was Coca Cola and vomit that had landed me at the Exo Frat- I mean club house party.

            That stupid drink and my stupid stomach were the cause of my standing amongst the thumping bass and dancing bodies in the mansion that Seoul University had provided for its most charitable school club.

            I spotted my beautiful, blonde, French housemate and best friend that had been the sole cause of my attendance.  Alice – pronounced Ill-ease, if you say it like the Lewis Carroll character, she will give you the look of death – was dancing in her be-dazzled bra with some very attractive people as an unidentifiable Calvin Harris song shook the mansion.

            I rolled my eyes with a wry smile, watching her laugh and enjoy herself.

            As one of the quieter, if you will, of my five housemates, and the only other one who had been to a party outside of Korea, Alice always wanted me to go the parties that her and my two unnies loved to attend so much.  Despite being from Miami, the “party hub” of the Western hemisphere, next to Rio, I wasn’t a fan of getting drunk with random people, dancing with random people, or sleeping with random people every other weekend.  Partying was a once every semester kind of thing.

            Alice did not enjoy this decision of mine.

            Unlike the need to party, one thing I had inherited from my home country, however, was my determined sense of never backing out of a bet, no matter how impossible it was.

            This Alice knew, and played to her advantage way more than I would have liked.

            Alice also knew that I detested carbonated drinks.

            My French housemate had put two and two together, and betted that I could not drink five 2-liter bottles of Coca Cola.

            I had laughed.

            I wasn’t even halfway through my second when brown and orange colored up-chuck began to paint itself across the tile, much to Hyoyeon’s disliking.

            Alice had laughed.

            And now, I was here, at one of the infamous Exo clubhouse parties with Alice and my two unnies, envying our maknae who was at home, probably getting an appropriate amount of sleep.

            I sighed; tugging on my much too short black shorts that Dara had forced me into.  Since I was here, I might as well get myself a good drink, I thought to myself.  Frat parties always had the fruity drinks I missed from home.

            Clubhouse – not frat.

            In all honesty though, Exo, and all of the other school “clubhouses” were Korean fraternities and sororities.  Groups of students all lived together in a mansion, were usually abnormally attractive, constantly held raging parties, and were named after letters and words in foreign languages.

            Exo was the most infamous “clubhouse” on Seoul University’s campus.  The parents of its ten members were incredibly rich and gave the most money to the school.  All of the boys were insanely good-looking to all of the female, and some of the male population.  Every member was crazy popular, even if I couldn’t pick any of them out in a crowd, every other student apparently could.

            Most important to my housemates, they held the best parties.

            I walked to the kitchen, scouring the table for a margarita, the one thing I missed above all about Miami.  I scowled at the lack of lemon-lime-tequila goodness and settled on what looked like a daiquiri.

            First drink of the night – DO NOT GO OVERBOARD.

            Tipsy, I was perfectly okay, bubbly, fun if you dared call it.

            Buzzed, I was giggly and loved to hang on people.

            Drunk, I was beyond touchy-feely, and that could end in an issue.

            I had just downed my daiquiri, and was swaying closer to the mob of dancers, when the second catalyst of the night appeared.

            A tall guy with an innocent looking face bumped into me in my swaying position in the outermost ring of dancing.  He shoveled his hand through his blue-grey dyed hair before grabbing my shoulder.

            “Hey, I’m sorry my friends are , I did not mean to bump into you.  Are you alright?” a voice as deep and velvety as silk escaped his lips, sending me into slight surprise.

            “I’m perfectly fine!  Are you okay?” I asked, it was more of a shout as the music was still incredibly loud.

            “Yeah.  I’m Chanyeol. I don’t think I’ve seen you before.”

            Actually, Chanyeol had seen me before, well I had seen him before at least.  I did not know his name until this moment, but even with slight alcohol influence I immediately placed him as the tall kid that slept in my history class.

            “I’m Jenny.  It’s nice to meet you!” I greeted, and shook his hand.

            “Jenny – I like it.” he grinned.

            Jenny was my American name, and the name I used when I went partying once every blue moon.  If I got drunk, I did not want my actions to be tied to me.  And if I got laid, I did not want to deal with the aftermath outside of the experience – they weren’t called one night stands for nothing.

            “Thanks.  I was actually going to get a drink, did you want to come?” I asked; my friendly tipsy side was beginning to come out.

            One strawberry daiquiri turned into two and that turned into four, and then my reminder to count my drinks was completely forgotten.

            Chanyeol and I had gained a small gathering at the beginning, first telling tipsy stories, laughing.  Then a mosh pit had formed after a small addition of more alcohol, and I found myself happily dancing with random strangers and Chanyeol.  A couple rounds of straight rum later, Chanyeol and I were sensually dancing – no, no, that’s being too nice.  We were basically having drunken with clothes on in the midst of a crowd of people.

            I don’t know when, but somewhere along the line, someone had thumped my new “friend” on the shoulder and had shouted loud enough for me to hear, “Chanyeol, you dog, take it upstairs!”

            Then I was being half-carried, as I straddled the tall blue-grey haired boy in a monkey-to-tree like fashion, up the stairs of the house, whilst we both laughed like little kids.

            The next few events seemed to blur together, this effect especially exaggerated with the amount of alcohol running through my system.

            Chanyeol awkwardly entered a room, and all but ran inside.  With the closing of the door, I was practically thrown against the wall from the pure force of Chanyeol’s body.  His lips were mashing against mine sensually.

            Even in my drunken haze, I could make one completely coherent thought:

            Chanyeol was a really good kisser.

            Our tongues and teeth clashed, as my back side rubbed against the wall and my front rubbed against Chanyeol, the friction sending me into overdrive.

            I was attempting to take off his shirt when Chanyeol stopped kissing me, and looked down at me.

            Even though this was not my first time being intimate, I had never seen eyes as lust-filled as Chanyeol’s in that moment.

            He pushed me in the direction of his bed and mumbled something along the lines of “one second.”  Chanyeol seemed a lot less drunk than I was as he turned to a literal wall of CDs and carefully pulled one off of a shelf.  He walked over to an antique looking stereo, pressed a couple of buttons, before turning back to me with his y eyes.  Sultry music filled the room and seemed to build even more to Chanyeol’s eye-ing.

            “I’m sorry, Prince’s Purple Rain album really puts me in the mood,” his deep voice resonated, “I put it on shuffle, I hope you don’t mind, Jenny.”

            Within seconds, I was on his lap, Chanyeol was without his shirt, his hard-one was pressing into my lower quarters, and our lips may as well have been welded together.  Hands played with the hem of my tank-top, tugging it up.  I bent back, allowing Chanyeol to take off of me as he disconnected our lips.

            “I love your bra,” he moaned before attaching his tongue to my neck.  I had to bite my tongue to stop myself from laughing, for some reason the only other three times I had gotten laid, I was wearing this very same set of royal purple underwear with dark blue stars.

            His hands reached around to un-clip the purple and blue bra, and the rest of the night faded into a mix of , screaming, , ing, and Purple Rain.

            Does Naeun have an early class again? I wondered to myself as a light seeped in through the room.

            I blinked my eyes open, almost immediately regretting the action as a sear of pain went through my head.

            What time is it?  I peeked around at the fancy digital clock on the side table next to the grey sheeted bed.

            9:43.

            Ugh…if Naeun has class, I probably should make breakfast…

            I was about to kick my legs out of bed, when a cute groan resounded from next to me.  My eyes darted over to find sleeping guy from History, cuddling his pillow without a shirt on.  Or any other clothes for that matter.

            Damn it, Yoo Hana.  You didn’t count your drinks.

            I carefully and hurriedly got out of bed.  My new goal at this point was to simply get home as fast as possible, preferably without Chanyeol or any of his housemates noticing my presence.  Hopefully when I’d leave whatever clubhouse I had ended up in at the close of the night, I’d know where on campus I was.

            In record silent speed I had wrestled on my blue and purple underwear set as well as Dara’s too short shorts.  My eyes were scanning the room for the turquoise tank top I had worn the night before.

            .

            Of course Chanyeol was sleeping on top of it.  Why was I even surprised?

            Well, if he’s going to have my shirt, I hope he does not mind me borrowing his.

            I found his black t-shirt with some white-writing in the middle-top of it.  I slid it on, enjoying the softness and the fact that it gave my legs more coverage than Dara’s shorts did.  I grabbed my school identification card and cell phone from the floor before hurriedly leaving his room.

            This shirt is really soft.  I hope Chanyeol does not miss it.

            And that was the exact moment when my college life would change completely.

            Thus, the drinking of one and a half liters of coke, the attending the Exo frat party, the drinking of a daiquiri, the ing of Park Chanyeol, and most importantly, the taking of his stupid black t-shirt began it all.

            It was a stupid black t-shirt that landed me in this mess.

Hello Friends!

New story haha, I hope you liked the first chapter, please anticipate what is to come.

If any of you are Being Normal readers, this fic is going to be A LOT different from Being Normal.  But it will be just as good, and do not feat - I have chapter eight already written and ready to post for that fic :)

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Winnie