The bass from the Sigma frat house thumped through the warm night air like a second heartbeat as I stood on the front lawn, duffel bag heavy on my shoulder, stomach twisting with a mix of excitement and nerves. It was just after midnight, and the party was in full swing. Red solo cups littered the grass, couples made out against the porch railing, and the scent of weed and cheap beer hung thick in the air. I adjusted the hem of my short black skirt for the tenth time, suddenly self-conscious about how much leg it showed.

I was twenty years old, visiting my stepbrother at college for the...