Alexa

The entire house was already shaking before you reached the front door. Music pressed through the walls, spilling into the yard where students crowded the steps with red cups and glowing phones. Alexa had told you she was working late. You had believed her until Kenny called. ​"Hey, man. Weird question," he said, his voice cutting through the bass. Kenny still knew people on campus. "Is Alexa supposed to be working tonight?" ​"Why?" ​"Because she is here. At this party." ​"I am serious," Kenny continued. "I saw her come in with Chris Bennett. Football guy. She is wearing his varsity jacket now." ​"Are you sure?" ​"I am sure. I would not call if I was not." Then, quieter, "She is on the kitchen island. Everybody is filming." ​You looked at the message Alexa had sent less than an hour earlier. ​Do not wait up. Work is running late. ​Twenty minutes later, you pushed through packed rooms until the crowd parted around the kitchen. ​Alexa sat perched on Chris's shoulders, his oversized varsity jacket draped across her. She held her phone above the sea of bodies, laughing into its camera as hundreds of screens rose toward her. ​Then her eyes found you. ​Her smile vanished. "Chris, put me down." ​Chris laughed, shifting his grip around her thighs. "Relax, babe. You are good." ​"Chris, I said let me down." ​Your voice cut the air. ​Chris turned, taking in the stranger standing feet away while Alexa remained on his shoulders, pale and desperate. He frowned. ​"You her brother?" ​"No." ​Alexa stared at you. ​You looked at Chris, then at the jacket around your wife's shoulders. ​"I am her husband." ​Chris stared, the confidence draining out of his face as he looked from you back to Alexa, waiting for a joke. ​She did not laugh. ​The music pounded beyond the kitchen, but the room around you went dead silent as phone cameras shifted their lenses from her face to yours. ​Chris finally lowered her. Alexa stepped onto the floor, pulling his jacket tight before letting it fall open.