The Triumph Of Venus

Orientation hit like a fire hose at full blast—sessions, tours, and icebreakers inflicted nonstop. The day was basically a hot walk in the sun in between fold-up canopies. Whichever overzealous faculty committee designed this monstrous schedule was either delusional or sociopathic.

In between the constant stream of activities, I slipped back into my dorm to decompress. My roommates were decent enough guys. The three of us squeezed into a tiny room were slowly feeling each other out, although none of us seemed particularly eager to initiate. Aside from ending up at the same college, we didn’t have much in common. The space was filled with quiet unpacking, broken up by choppy bits of small talk.

Jennie, on the other hand, was thriving. Her dorm was fifteen minutes across campus, but I don’t think she spent more than five of them in her actual room. I watched from a distance as she bounced from group to group like she’d been there for years.

She’d always been fit (her whole family was athletic), but over senior year she had really begun to develop into a woman. Her slender, fawn-like frame had blossomed with swaying hips and protruding breasts. Clothes seemed to fit her differently. With little regard for subtlety, the hallways paused and turned as she passed.

It wasn’t just the students that year who noticed, faculty did too. I never saw any of it firsthand, but I held her more than once as she sobbed, recounting stories of men we trusted making inappropriate advances. She’d speak through tears, struggling with guilt, as if

she

somehow invited it. I always listened, quietly, without judgment. Speaking up only to defuse the occasional spiral of self-blame. But, I didn’t have answers.

And yet, despite everything, Jennie still glowed. It wasn’t a fragile kind of brightness, either. It was something stubborn, radiant despite everything. It became even more apparent on the larger university campus. Her bubbly, inquisitive personality was magnetic. Anyone who spoke with her for more than five minutes became a new friend.

So it was no surprise when, after just one day, she got us invited to a pool party.

The sun hadn’t let up, even with autumn just around the corner. Plenty of bare skin was showing, especially from people with no intention of getting in the pool. Still, I felt distinctly pubescent and out of place in my swim trunks.

Jennie elbowed me. “Ready to lose again?”

I rolled my eyes and nodded. This was her thing, a dumb little game. Every time we swam together she instigated a breath-holding contest. No prizes, no real stakes. Just the two of us underwater in a silent battle of wills. She had great breath control from years of early morning workouts. Me? Not so much.

“One... two... three—” she grinned that crazy little grin, the one that always meant she was about to beat me in something.

Splash!

I took a deep breath and followed suit.

Underwater, the chaos surrounding the sun-bleached concrete and teak pergolas melted away. No frat bros shouting, no bass thumping from some abused Bluetooth speaker. Just blue-tinted quiet as light danced across our skin. Jennie floated opposite me, her long blonde hair drifting like seaweed, eyes wide and playful. Even through the blur of my terrible underwater vision, I could make out the curve of her smile, the mischievous twitch of her eyebrows as she pointed towards the surface. First one up loses! I let out a silent laugh, which made my lungs burn almost immediately. She was so serious about the dumbest things, but always with that sparkle in her eye that made me second-guess her intentions.

Then it happened.

Two strong arms plunged into the water from above, wrapping around her waist and yanking her upward. I blinked, stunned. In a swirl of bubbles, she was gone.

I broke the surface an instant later. Jennie was laughing, water streaming down her face as a tall figure hoisted her up in the air. He had a tan, muscular body, a confident posture, and dark eyes that crinkled at the edges from smiling too much in the sun. There was a natural flirtation to his smile, but something dangerous brewed underneath. If not for the bold white LIFEGUARD across his tank top, I would’ve guessed he would be the one dunking people in the pool, not saving them.

“I thought you were drowning,” he said in a deep voice, speaking to Jennie with mock concern. “Didn’t want you missing the party tonight.”

She held onto his thick forearms, clearly enjoying the moment. “We were just playing!” She giggled and looked at me like I was part of the joke. “Mark, meet Tanner. He’s been showing me around campus.”

I nodded stiffly, suddenly very aware of how scrawny I must look next to this guy. He glanced at me for the first time. Something flickered in his eyes—recognition, maybe?

“What’s up, buddy?” he said, smirking. Then without missing a beat. “You got a hot girlfriend.” He set Jennie back down in the water.

My throat tightened as she laughed a little too loudly. I opened my mouth to correct him, but she beat me to it.

“Oh, we’re not dating. Mark and I are just best friends.” She smiled and touched my shoulder, like a consolation prize.

I nodded too fast. My voice came out dry. “Yeah. Just friends.” Lungs constricted, my first instinct was to dunk my head back underneath the cool, shimmering surface of the pool.

Tanner didn’t seem to notice, he was focusing on the commotion behind me. A group of guys made their presence known as they stepped out from the clubhouse and onto the deck. Shirtless and in muscle tees, they sported mirrored sunglasses and backwards baseball hats. Every visible scrap of clothing seemed to bear the bold, blocky Greek letters of Kappa Alpha Psi.

“Lifeguard, we need your help! We’re drowning in pussy!” one of them shouted, and the whole group exploded with laughter.

Tanner shot a wide grin back. He gave Jennie a squeeze. “Gotta run. I’ll see you tonight.”

But, before he could slip away, Jennie grabbed his hand with both of hers. God, her fingers looked so dainty wrapped around his.

“Can Mark come?” she asked, giving him her big doe eyes. Such a look would have liquefied me. He threw a glance at me and then back to his friends.

“Fine, but the gender ratio might be fucked. You owe me.” I couldn’t tell if he was joking or serious until he gave her a wink. Then, with one fluid motion, he grabbed the coping and hauled himself out. He was gone.

Jennie turned to me, practically glowing. “Tanner’s been super nice! I think you’ll like him.” She started wading toward the ladder. I followed in silence, still trying to swallow the knot in my throat. Maybe I imagined it, but I could’ve sworn his hand had lingered on her ass. No way she’d let that slide… right?

As we dried off together, her swimsuit clung to her body in a way that made it impossible not to notice. The sunlight caught her smooth, glistening skin. She looked effortless. A bulge immediately formed in my own swimsuit. I quickly turned my gaze to the water, trying desperately to will it away. Still, I couldn’t break free. Her scent was just as intoxicating as her appearance—sunscreen and chlorine, sure, but something sweet and floral underneath. A new lotion, maybe.

“Look, I gotta go home and get changed. Wanna come over around six?” She had already grabbed her phone and was swiping through notifications.

“Yeah, sure!” I heard myself say enthusiastically. I nonchalantly held the towel in front of me, but it didn’t matter, Jennie was already walking away.

“Okay, hurry up and get changed. Then meet at mine!”

I showed up at Jennie’s dorm feeling rushed, uncomfortable, and slightly bloated. I'd grabbed fast food on the way and scarfed it down in the car. She greeted me still in her swimsuit with her thumbs on her phone. It didn’t look like she started to get ready at all.

“You will not believe what Tanner just texted me,” she said, eyes lighting up. “It’s a toga party!”

I’d heard of those—more or less code for drunken chaos in less clothes. The idea stirred something primal in me, sure, but overall it left me confused. Wasn’t this the exact kind of thing Jennie used to roll her eyes at?

The small, low entrance of her dorm opened immediately into the common area. LED lights strung across the ceiling gave the room a soft glow. The high-pile carpet looked freshly vacuumed, and an ocean-scented candle flickered on the coffee table amidst trinkets and stacked magazines. An apparent roommate glanced up from her spot on the couch and smirked.

“Oh, is this your friend?” she asked, eyes tracing over me like I was a lab experiment. “So adorable.”

Jennie just giggled in response. I gave a nervous laugh, trying to play it cool. Adorable? Was that good? Patronizing? I didn’t get the chance to ask; Jennie had already left behind her lingering scent as she disappeared around the corner.

Following her to her room, I saw she’d already plopped down on the bed, still texting. I hesitated in the doorway. Maybe it was just the limited dorm space, but this didn’t feel like her room. Her debate trophies were gone. So were the goofy (but adorable) soccer head shots. In their place: rows of makeup product, clothes draped across the comforter like a fashion show mid-change, and a shoe rack crammed behind the door.

Something came over me.

“I don’t think we should go to this toga party,” I blurted out.

Jennie looked at me and sighed, and then went back to her phone. I pressed on, already in too deep.

“Haven’t you always said fraternities promote toxic behavior and enforce gender roles? You know those guys will say anything to hook up with a hot girl.” I motioned towards her.

She rolled her eyes, catching the compliment. Emboldened, I cleared a small spot on the comforter and sat down beside her.

“You’re better than that, Jennie. You’re special. I don’t want to see you—”

“Listen carefully.” Her voice cut straight through mine. She finally put her phone down and met my eyes. “Tanner’s not like that. Him and his friends? They’re actually really cool. You don’t know them.”

I hadn’t expected her to defend him, at least not like that.

Her tone softened, but it remained just as sharp. “I think you’re jealous because you need me to get you into a party.”

I recoiled slightly, an unconscious defensive mechanism. Those words stung more than I wanted to admit. I opened my mouth, but she kept on steaming ahead.

“And by the way,” she added, narrowing her eyes, “I saw you staring at my body by the pool. Don’t act like you’re some noble guy above it all. Just because

you

have a pervy mind doesn’t mean everyone else does.”

Red filled my cheeks as I looked down at my lap, mumbling something that didn’t make any sense. If she only knew how I felt about her.

“We’re going.” Jennie said with finality. She let out a breath and turned to her nightstand, preoccupied. She was searching for something.

There had been a moment, early in the summer, when I thought things were changing between us. We were inseparable, spending every day together. I thought maybe, just maybe, it was finally happening. That this fall, emerging from the constricting bubble of the suburbs, we’d finally admit feelings for each other. Our first kiss would come organically, beautifully even. I'm ashamed to admit it, but I even imagined how I’d tell my parents over winter break: Jennie and I were finally together.

“So what color?” she asked, procuring two bottles of nail polish—one pink, one white—and wiggling her toes. Reality snapped back into focus.

“Pink, much more diva.”

She giggled, setting the white one down. As she unscrewed the cap, the flicker of a new thought crossed her face.

“Do you think I’m a diva?” She sounded playful, but in the same way that fireworks are. I reached for the first thing that didn’t sound like an insult.

“You’re the only diva I care about.”

It sounded clingy the second I said it. She snorted and covered her mouth with one hand, trying not to laugh. It hurt, but at least this was better than her pointed accusations.

“Alright, enough jokes. Tanner said the party starts at seven so we should hurry. Can you paint my toes while I do my makeup?”

Me?

I blinked. I’d never used nail polish on myself, let alone on someone else. Jennie and I used to laugh at the kind of girls who spend time with chemicals and tiny brushes just to feel pretty. Her bare feet dangled casually off the bed; they already looked perfect to me. I didn’t realize I was staring until she waved her hand in front of my face.

“Earth to Mark!” she said, handing me the chunky glass bottle. “It doesn’t have to be perfect. It'll be dark soon anyways.”

Without a second thought, I got down on the floor and started to work. Her skin was warm and soft; even her calluses were smooth. I kept adjusting, trying to keep her slender leg steady as I focused on painting inside the delicate contours of her nail plates.

She hardly noticed. Her attention was on the mirror, tracing thick eyeliner with practiced precision. The reflection caught every flick of her wrist. She looked different. Older. Like a version of Jennie I hadn’t met before.

When we finished, she handed me a repurposed bed sheet—a makeshift toga.

“Go change in the bathroom,” she said. “I’ll meet you in the entry.”

“Ok.”

I ducked into the adjacent restroom which was small and cramped. My shorts dropped to the floor as I pulled the toga over my head. It was evidently made for someone bigger. My reflection in the mirror appeared awkward and ungainly. Leaning closer, I noticed there was an unmistakable pimple developing above my eyebrow. Of course.

I could easily imagine how Tanner’s own toga must fit him. Probably like a statue; his tall, muscular body looked like it was practically sculpted from marble anyways.

Shoving that thought aside, I stepped into the hall with my balled up shorts in hand. Jennie’s door was closed, so I continued into the living room. Her roommate was flipping through a

People

magazine, still on the couch. She looked up and offered a polite smile.

“So you guys are going to Kappa Alpha Psi tonight, huh?”

“Yeah, I guess.” I picked up a seashell from the coffee table and began to trace its uniform ridges.

“Those boys are wild.” She chuckled and gave me a sympathetic look. “Keep an eye on Jennie, though. Once a girl gets a taste for someone who takes what they want…”

She offered me a wistful smile.

“...she usually can’t help herself.”

Before I could respond, Jennie seemed to materialize beside me. She looked refreshed, like the hours socializing by the pool had somehow replenished her battery. Her toga was sheer and clung to her body like it had been custom-made. A delicate gold chain hung low around her hips. Her legs glowed under the warm string lights. She wore black gladiator sandals laced halfway up her toned calves. And her toes, bright pink and painted by my trembling hands, somehow completed the look.

I set the shell down gently.

“You driving?” she asked, nodding towards the door.

The party was so massive it had swallowed the entire street. Bodies were jammed in the front yard and spilled onto the sidewalk, shoulder to shoulder. Music, loud conversation, and raucous laughter permeated the warm evening air, making it buzz.

I set the transmission in park a couple blocks away. Jennie turned on the overhead light and flipped down the visor mirror, leaning forward to reapply a translucent layer of lip gloss.

We then started to make our way down the block, passing through groups of partygoers. Jennie moved with an unwavering confidence, cutting a path through the throng like it parted for her. It was easy to follow in her wake.

From the outside, the house looked like any other on the block: an old Victorian-style manor, reconverted into separate dorms to accommodate the ever-growing college population.

As we got to the porch, I spotted a few guys in backwards hats and muscle tees near the door. They were tall, very built, and decidedly in charge of who got to cross the threshold. I didn’t know any of them, nor did I expect to. Their dark eyes swept over us: quick, dismissive. I slowed my pace, hanging back near the railing while Jennie strode up to them unflinchingly.

“We know Tanner,” I heard her say, her voice smooth, undoubtedly paired with that same charismatic smile that had gotten us into the pool party. The largest guy, his sunglasses still on despite the fading light, leaned in and murmured something. Jennie's eyes flicked towards me as she moved her lips. I shifted uncomfortably in my stiff toga. The knot kept slipping.

Jennie made her way back towards me, seemingly crestfallen. She grabbed my hand and held it in hers reassuringly, but the words that followed cut the opposite way.

“Look, babes... they said the ratio’ll be off if you come in.”

My stomach dropped.

“What does that even

mean

?” I asked boldly, trying to play it off. “Doesn’t that prove they only want to get into your pants? Or, uh—your toga?”

The joke landed with a dull thud.

Jennie’s face twisted and she let go of my hand. “Seriously, Mark? This again?”

I lowered my eyes, heat rising in my cheeks.

“Just come back in a couple hours, okay? It’s not the end of the world.” Her tone was clipped now. “The party will still be going and you can meet me then.”

She adjusted the toga around her shoulder and spun towards the front door without another word. I stood there for a moment and pretended not to notice the guys watching me closely. Then, I turned and made my way back down the street, slipping through the crowd alone this time. Every bump, every laugh around me felt personal.

By the time I reached the car, the sky had shifted from dusky pink to deep gray. I climbed in and shut the door quickly, sealing out the residual noise. The sudden quiet contrasted sharply with my whirring thoughts. It felt like, for the first time in forever, I was completely alone.

I leaned back against the headrest and closed my eyes.

A distant car alarm jolted me awake. My heart thudded as I sat up, covered in a sticky sheen of sweat. It was dark, and the air was thick and warm. For a brief moment, I didn’t know where I was.

The driver’s seat creaked as I shifted, rubbing my eyes. I turned the key in the ignition to check the time. Nothing. Dead silence. I tried again. Still nothing. Then I noticed the overhead light switch; it was still flipped on.

Shit.

It must have drained the battery. I fished my phone from the folds of my toga. Its screen lit the car's interior like a flare:

11:30!

I’d been out for over four hours. My whole body ached. Whatever social energy I had before my nap was completely gone.

The cooler night air felt good on my skin as I stepped out of the car. Through my sandals, warmth still radiated from asphalt that had baked under the sun. Adjusting the toga around my waist, I glanced down the street. The neighborhood had quieted; the chaos must have moved inside. I could picture Jennie there, full of liquid courage.

Screw the battery

. I slammed the car door shut before I could reevaluate my decisions and started taking long strides down the sidewalk.

As I neared the manor again, the music grew louder, vibrating through the ground like a low-grade tremor. The porch was still packed, but to my relief, the steroid-laden bouncers were nowhere in sight. I made my way across the vast deck and slipped in through the front door.

The entryway was grandiose, albeit dim. Light came from a large chandelier that shimmered with crystals, though half were missing. High, exposed beams loomed above. Polished wood wainscoting lined the walls, relinquishing to wallpaper that bloomed with patterns of deep burgundy and maroon—colors that might have once danced but now were muted under layers of dust. In gilded, ostentatious frames were photos of previous fraternity chapters; rows of serious men, one after another. A tall, mirror-backed cabinet in the corner encased a collection of ambiguous trophies, a faint crack running the entire length of the front, cut-glass panel.