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I was at the coolest party on campus – Alpha Sigma Phi’s annual Fright Fest.

My friends had asked me countless times and, finally, my junior year of college, I agreed to come to my first fraternity party. I wore a thrown together costume from clothes I already owned – a plastic firefighter hat, black suspenders and a red halter to show off my newly inked tattoo of the Nirvana lyrics Come as you are on my collarbone.

In the basement of the fraternity house, Katie twirled around on the dance floor, holding a shot in one hand and the top of her strapless dress with the other. Next to her, I awkwardly swayed from side-to-side to some rap song playing over the speakers about big butts.

Katie grabbed me around the waist with one hand and pulled me close to her. I could smell the pungent odor of tequila on her breath as she slurred in my ear, “Tonight is going to be a-mazing. Maybe, maybe you’ll finally get laid tonight.”

“Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.”

Katie laughed a little too loudly before slurring, “Oh, right, you’re ‘waiting for love,’” she said, using air quotes like the idea was absurd. “Well, maybe he’ll at least kiss…”

A man behind us cleared his throat, interrupting Katie mid-sentence. I spun around, my long hair whipping in front of my face, to nearly ram into none other than Dallas Phillips – a boy who sat in front of me in rhetoric class.

Oh god, did he hear Katie?

“Hhhi, Dallas,” I stammered.

“Hey Hazel!” he responded as he pulled up his sagging blue jeans. “I know what you’re thinking, Dallas is too white to pull off this outfit.”

“Actually, I like the gangster look on you.” I smiled, hoping that maybe he hadn’t overheard. “Who are you supposed to be? P. Diddy or something?”

“Flava Flav,” Dallas responded and laughed. “Although I look more like Vanilla Ice.”

I laughed back, even though I had no idea who he was referencing, and then looked nervously down at my red combat boots.

Dallas cleared his throat. “So, firefighter, can I get you a drink?”

I looked back at Katie, who was nodding her head furiously up and down with a grin plastered on her face. I held up my hand to show the black X in permanent marker.

“I’m actually not 21 yet.”

“Psssh, like that matters,” he said and looked at Katie. “She’s so cute.”

“She’s never been to one of these parties before,” Katie said.

“Well, good think you have an honorary fraternity brother to show you around then,” Dallas said, puffing out his chest.

“Oh, I didn’t know you were an Alpha Sigma Phi member,” I fibbed. In fact, this was the single reason I agreed to come to this party.

“Yup, third generation,” he said and grabbed my hand in his to lead me to a makeshift bar in the corner of the basement. I could feel his warm calloused hand in my own, and my cheeks blazed.

“Hey Joey!” Dallas yelled as soon as we got to the bar, which was stacked with cans of lite beer and cheap liquor bottles. “Can I have two Cokes and rum?”

Dallas looked back at me, cocking an eyebrow.

“Sure, that sounds good.”

He could have asked me if I wanted a glass of gasoline and I would have still responded yes.

“Coming right up,” said the boy behind the bar, who I recognized from my Earth Science class last year. He grabbed a clear glass bottle from behind him and filled two red plastic cups about half way full.

“Woah,” I said under my breath as the boy filled the rest with Coke.

Dallas put a couple bucks in a tip jar as the boy handed us the cups.

“Thanks, man!”

“Yup,” Dallas responded as he handed me the almost-overflowing cup. “So are you having fun, Hazel?”

I took a sip from the cup and tried not to make a gagging sound as the burning liquid slid down my throat. I coughed and then responded, “So far.”

“Well, you ain’t seen nothing yet. I’m going to give you my special tour of the house. Come this way.”

Dallas pushed his way past throngs of girls and guys gyrating against one another, and I followed close behind so I wouldn’t lose him in the smoke-filled basement. He led me up the stairs to the living room, which was littered with cups, pizza boxes and empty bags of potato chips. He looked over at me with his sparkling blue eyes and smiled.

I felt like I was the only girl in the room. Well, maybe because, besides the couple making out on the leather couch to the left of us, I was the only person in the room. But that was beside the point.

Dallas walked me down a long narrow hallway and opened the door to one of the rooms. I squinted as I entered a bedroom painted bright yellow with two beds on either side.

Oh my god! He is taking me to his room! Maybe Katie was right; maybe he will try to kiss me, I thought to myself, trying not to hyperventilate. Nah. Hazel, get a grip. He’s just giving you a tour of the frat house. Of course he doesn’t think of you like that.

I gave myself this internal pep talk as Dallas spread open his arms and turned toward me, saying, “Welcome to my humble abode.”

“Don’t tell me—the Superman bedspread is yours?”

“How’d you guess?” Dallas grinned.

“You rock!” I laughed, trying to quiet the whispers in my head, telling me not to get too excited about being in Dallas’ bedroom.

“Well, I’m glad you approve,” Dallas laughed back. “My frat brothers make fun of me for these.”

“You can never be too old for superheroes,” I smiled. “You don’t take yourself too seriously. I like that.”

At the end of Dallas’s bed was the coolest looking drum set I had ever seen, and I immediately gravitated toward it.

“Oh my gosh! You can play the drums?! I’ve always wanted to be able to play the drums,” I said and picked up the wooden sticks.

“Well come here then—I guess I’ll just have to teach you how to play!”

I sat down on the cushioned stool, and Dallas stood behind me. He placed his hands on top of mine and intertwined our fingers together to move my hands to keep a beat. His hands felt warm, and his skin looked bronze against my pale flesh. His simple touch sent tingles all the way up my spine.

He might just like me, was all I could think – a thought that drowned out all my other thoughts.

Dallas let go of me. “Now you try on your own.”

My hands shook as I exhaled, trying to calm my nerves. I forced myself to hold the sticks steady and imitate the beat Dallas had just moved my hands to play.

“That was awesome! Let’s play some more,” he said.

So, we did. He played a beat, and I mimicked him. We did this over and over again, and I lost track of time in his bedroom. Making music – coming from my hands, through the sticks, into the drums – made me feel happier than I had been in a long time.

“Wow, you’re a natural!” he exclaimed.

I blushed, “Thanks. My dad was in a band, so I grew up surrounded by a lot of music.”

“Really?” Dallas asked, raising his eyebrows. “What did he play?”

“He was the lead singer and guitarist of his college band,” I responded. “Have you heard of the band Misled?”

“Of course I have!” Dallas’ face lit up. “Oh my gosh, don’t tell me your dad was in one of the greatest 80’s bands of all time.”

“No, unfortunately not,” I responded, instinctively picking at a hangnail on my thumb so I didn’t have to look into Dallas’ piercing eyes. “He was in Misled’s first band – Drifting Souls.”

“What happened?” Dallas asked, sitting down on his bed. “Why didn’t he continue on?”

“Because of me,” I stated simply and my voice cracked on the last syllable. I took a deep breath and glanced up at Dallas. He seemed genuinely concerned.

“I’m sure it’s not because of you,” Dallas said.

“I honestly haven’t talked to anybody about this before,” I said, looking down at my painted black fingernails.

Dallas bent down and put his hand on my chin, forcing me to look into his eyes.

“You can talk to me about it if you want. I’m a good listener. You can trust me.”

Mesmerized by his pleading blue eyes, I got up off the stool and took a deep breath.

“It’s not a big deal. It’s just…my dad and his band traveled around the country right after they graduated from college, playing at a different bar every night trying to get discovered,” I began. “And my mom traveled with them wherever they went, not wanting to spend a single night without him. So most of their first year of marriage was spent on a bus. I guess I must have been conceived on one of the band’s only nights off.”

I paced the room, picking up a hockey puck from a bookshelf and then putting it back down. I refused to look Dallas in the face – knowing that, if I did, I would probably chicken out and not finish the story that less than a handful of people knew.

“The last couple months of my mom’s pregnancy, my dad refused to tour with the band. He wanted to stay at home with my mom. So, for those couple months, the band found a replacement. The replacement was supposed to be temporary. But, one week after I was born, the band was signed by a big recording label in California. And, instead of my dad, the replacement was signed along with the deal.”

“Wow,” Dallas responded, “that sucks big time.”

“I always thought it was my fault,” I confessed and sat down on the bed next to him. “When I was little, I thought I would make it up to him – that maybe I could become a singer and then he would be proud of me. But I don’t think the music gene was passed on to me, unfortunately.”

Dallas put his arm around my shoulder, and I stiffened up, my heart picking up speed with his touch. After a couple seconds of silence, Dallas said, “With how good you played those drums for your first time, I think you’re wrong. I definitely think you have the music gene.”

“I don’t know. I mean, I sang in choir in high school, and I’ve taken voice lessons since I was 10. But that’s the extent. I haven’t sung a solo since…geez…since I was in 8th grade. I think if I was going to be a singer, something more would have happened by now.”

“How come it’s been so long since you’ve sung a solo?” Dallas asked. “I mean, there’s a lot of bars around here that I’m sure would let you sing there.”

“I guess, I don’t know if my voice is all that great. I mean, sure, it’s okay, but not really good enough to make a living out of and definitely not as good as my dad’s.”

“How about I be the judge of that. Sing for me.”

Oh gosh, I thought to myself as I looked into his imploring eyes. What should I do? What if my voice cracks? What if he laughs? Then I thought about Katie, who was probably, at that very moment, kissing a boy she just met. What would she do in this situation? If she were here, she would tell me to grow some lady balls and just do it.

Giving myself a silent pep talk, I thought, This is a new night. This is a new me. If I croak, I’ll just blame it on the alcohol.

“Okay,” I sighed, “just promise you won’t make fun of me.”

“Cross my heart,” Dallas said, making an “X” motion across his chest.

“Okay, don’t look at me,” I ordered Dallas.

“Fine,” he responded, picking up a pillow from his bed and hiding his face in it.

I got up and closed my eyes, pretending I was standing in front of the mirror in my bedroom. I stood up straight and breathed in and out from my diaphragm. The only song that came to mind was my parents’ wedding song – “All You Need is Love” by the Beatles.

After I sang the first verse, I opened my eyes to see Dallas peeking from behind the pillow at me.

“Hey, you’re not supposed to be looking!” I responded.

“Come on, sing the chorus,” he urged with a supportive smile and then buried his face into the pillow once more.

I shut my eyes and finished singing the one song I could practically sing in my sleep. And immediately after I sang the last note, Dallas started applauding. I couldn’t help but feel surprised. Did he actually think I was good?

“Hazel Lucas, mark my words, you will be the talk of the town someday soon,” Dallas smiled at me.