by Tiffany King
“Damn, that’s hot,” a warm male voice said behind me.
I grinned as I turned around, recognizing the voice of my friend Derek. “Really? I can score their numbers for you if you’d like,” I joked.
“Honey, I’m talking about Tall, Dark, and Shirtless over there,” he answered, pointing to a well-toned guy who had removed his shirt so it wouldn’t get splattered with mud.
“Right, here I thought you had suddenly decided to bat for the other team,” Cameo teased Derek, looping her arm through his.
“Sweetheart, you could only wish,” he said, dropping a kiss on her forehead.
“Damn straight,” she giggled. “No pun intended,” she added before frowning up at him. “Why do all the good ones turn out to be gay?”
“So we can have marvelous friends like you two without the mess of a romantic relationship. Just think, if I was straight, we wouldn’t be friends.”
“That’s because we’d be lovers,” I cooed, snuggling up to his free arm.
“I love you, Tressa baby, but you’d scare me in bed,” Derek said, wrapping his arm around my waist.
“Oh come on, I’d go easy on you,” I answered, grinding my hips against his leg.
“Don’t believe her. I swear the wall looked like it was going to collapse the last time she had a guy over,” Cameo teased, sticking out her tongue at me as I swiped at her with my free hand.
“Whatever, Wonder Woman,” I said, reminding her of the last guy she slept with, who had a fondness for comic books. He showed up at our apartment one night with a costume from the Halloween store. Usually, I didn’t mind sticking around when Cameo had a guy over, but I had to leave for that one. The truth was, it had been months since I’d even considered being with a guy.
“Hey, what about the dude with the camera? I’m surprised you didn’t take him up on it,” she returned, talking about the last guy who almost made it into my bed until he wanted to record us. He had to go collect his camera and clothes from the yard after I threw his belongings out the window and kicked his ass out.
“Unlike you, I only do high-class porn,” I threw back.
“As stimulating as this conversation is, I’d rather be dancing,” Derek said, indicating the open door of the frat house where the music had been turned up.
Cameo and I agreed, following Derek toward the music we could feel pumping through our chests. Joining a crowd that seemed to be flowing as one, we let loose and lost ourselves in the music. Dancing came naturally to our trio, and it was something we enjoyed doing together. As in, just the three of us. Being in a large crowd, we would occasionally have to put up with some drunken dude trying to grind against Cameo or me, but Derek was good at stepping in. At six foot five, he was an imposing figure who could maneuver his body wherever he wanted to shelter us from unwanted advances.
After an hour, we were dripping with sweat, despite the nip in the nighttime air that circulated through the open windows and doors. Pulling my damp hair off the back of my neck, I indicated with a nod of my head to Derek and Cameo that it was time for a break. It felt like we needed a shoehorn to squeeze through the jumbled bodies, but eventually we made it out of the room.
“Holy shit, talk about a cardio workout. I should be a twig after all that,” I complained, snagging another drink. I glared at Cameo, who was practically a waif standing next to me. “I should effing hate you.”
“Don’t be an ass. I’d take your boobs any day over these.” She cupped her smallish breasts in her hands. “At least you’ve got curves. I’m like a stick.”
“Look, ladies, you can both be jealous of my perfect body,” Derek interrupted, making a point of tossing his imaginary long hair. “Some of us got it, and some of us don’t.” Cameo and I laughed. Derek was a bit of a showboat, which made him perfect for our group. “I’m going to get a drink,” he added, following Cameo, who was already headed in that direction.
I stayed behind, content with the beer I had pulled from a nearby cooler. It was nice to take a breather and observe the crowd a little. I became preoccupied watching a group playing a distorted version of Spin the Bottle when a pair of arms reached around my stomach, pulling me roughly against a hard chest.
“Are you ready to kiss and make up?” Chuck growled in my ear. He smelled like a distillery.
“Not really.” I shrugged my shoulders, stepping out of his grasp.
“Come on, girl. You’re gonna let a little fight ruin this?” He sounded as drunk as he smelled.
I wanted to laugh, but that would probably only egg him on further. I also wasn’t in the mood for a messy scene tonight, so I went with a softer approach and a little more tact than he probably deserved.
As I spun around to face him, I couldn’t for the life of me remember why I had gone out with him in the first place. He was a partier like I was and had seemed cool when I met him at Club Zero a couple weeks ago, but he was a meathead. I pretty much realized on our first date that we probably weren’t going to make it. Mostly because he was a perpetual nut scratcher. I don’t mean he would do the occasional subtle shift that some guys do with their junk. If that was all he did, I could have lived with it. He was an all-out ball scratcher, and didn’t seem to care who saw him do it. It could be the waitress who looked disgusted as she handed over our pizza, or Cameo, or basically anyone who was having a conversation with him. If you stood next to Chuck, at some point you would see him scratch his balls.
“Chuck, it’s not you, it’s me,” I said, cringing at my chosen cliché. How did you tell someone you would rather gouge out your eyes than see him play with his junk again?
“What the fuck? Who uses a bullshit line like that?” He grabbed my arm so I couldn’t move. I looked down at his hand that was wrapped around my wrist. Seriously? Why did it always come down to this? Did I have the words please manhandle me tattooed on my forehead?
I noticed Derek approaching from the corner of my eye. He was hard to miss because of his size, and judging by the look on his face, Chuck would want no part of what was coming. I held out my free hand to stop him before he could get involved. I may have an uncanny knack for dating assholes, but I also knew how to take care of myself when I needed to. I stepped on Chuck’s shoe and slowly rolled my weight so my platform heel sank down on the softness of his toes. “In case you’re too stupid to notice, we’re done.” He grunted in pain, making me smile. Sometimes it paid not to be a lightweight.
“Get off me, you bish,” he slurred. He wobbled to the point where I could have pushed him over.
Derek stepped between me and Chuck, pulling me snugly against his side. “Why don’t you go sleep it off?” His insistent tone made it clear he wasn’t merely asking. This was why Derek was the best kind of friend. He wasn’t a fan of violence, but you would never know it when it came to Cameo and me. Back home, I had always been the protector when it came to my friends. It was kind of nice to have a knight in shining armor. Not necessary, but still sweet. I found it endearing that even though he’d only known me for a year, he acted like we were lifelong friends. Derek was a perk that came with Cameo picking me to be her roommate last year. When I had transferred to Maine State, I knew I didn’t want to do the whole dorm thing. Living at home my first two years of college made me yearn for more independence. I wanted to let loose without so many restrictions. Living in an apartment with Cameo had provided the freedom I was looking for, and sharing her best friend, Derek, sweetened the deal.
Chuck looked like he wanted to retaliate, but in his drunken state, he was in no shape to attempt anything more. With a shake of his head and a look of bewilderment in my direction, he staggered off, scratching his junk the entire time.
“Honey, you sure can pick ’em,” Derek said, shaking his head with amazement before turning away from the train wreck to Cameo, who’d returned with a drink.
“You’re a fine one to talk,” I pointed out, punching him in his bicep. If it seemed like I was being picky at the moment when it came to guys, Derek
was even worse. He claimed he didn’t feel like wasting time on meaningless relationships. I think he missed the memo on what college dating was supposed to be.
“I’m searching for someone who understands me,” he said dramatically, making us laugh. “Speaking of which, hello, Clark Kent,” he added, looking toward the front door. “He looks like he could understand everything I have to offer.”
Cameo and I pivoted around to see who had managed to snag Derek’s attention. He could be a bit of a snob when it came to man-candy. Anyone who caught his eye had to be worth seeing.
“Oh, hell no,” I muttered under my breath. He was the last person I expected to see at a party like this.
2.
“I know him.”
“What? You bitch, you’ve been holding out on me,” Cameo said, giving a low whistle under her breath.
“Really? We’re construction workers now?” I said.
“Honey, sometimes an appreciative whistle is necessary,” Derek answered as he straightened his shirt and smoothed a hand over his hair.
“Hit the brakes, lollipop. That’s Trent, a guy I know from Woodfalls. Trust me. He’s as straight as they come.”
“Woo-hoo!” Cameo shouted, adjusting her top so her small but perky breasts were more visible.
“Down, horndog. He’s not your type either.”
“What the hell does that mean?”
“She means maybe he doesn’t know what he’s missing on Team Derek.”
“No, God, you freaking sluts. I’m saying look at him. He’s straight out of The Big Bang Theory. Completely not our type.”
“Speak for yourself. I like the whole glasses thing,” Cameo said, making a move toward him. “Smart but sexy definitely works for me.”
“Chill,” I commanded her, grabbing the hem of her shirt. “Trust me. Trent isn’t for you.”
“Oh, now I get it. You have the hots for him.” Her eyes practically lit up with fascination in the darkness. “Why didn’t you just say so?”
I gritted my teeth in frustration. “Why don’t you suck it?”
“Sounds like that’s what you want to do,” Cameo returned.
“Ha, you two really know how to speak my language,” Derek chuckled.
Why was everyone so quick to push Trent and me together? I heard the same load of crap from my two best friends in Woodfalls, Brittni and Ashton. They were convinced Trent had some kind of thing for me. I never understood why they didn’t see what I did. Trent and I were complete opposites. He and his parents moved to Woodfalls during our junior year in high school, causing quite the stir. Trent’s grandfather was a respected town resident, having owned the local hardware store for nearly forty years, and Trent’s dad was a Woodfalls native who had moved away many years prior to start college. I couldn’t recall Trent and his family ever coming for visits during holidays or anything when we were kids, which was probably why everyone was so surprised when they suddenly moved to town. New people rarely moved to Woodfalls. Those who did were typically young couples looking for a small-town atmosphere in which to raise their families. Woodfalls was far enough from major cities to make you feel like you were part of a different lifestyle. I had just started dating Jackson when Trent’s arrival caused a ripple of gossip to spread through the school. I was too wrapped up in the newness of my first real relationship to give Trent much thought. Jackson, for some reason, seemed to dislike him from day one. He was always harping on the fact that he thought Trent was watching me. I dismissed his paranoia, telling him Trent could probably just sense a fellow troublemaker. One of the benefits of having Brittni as my best friend was that her mom was the first to get information. She was the town gossip queen and filled us in on the fact that Trent had gotten in some kind of trouble at his old school and his parents hoped a move to a small town would change things for him. After only a few months, I chalked up Trent’s bad-boy rumor as total bullshit. Brittni’s mom had to have gotten some bad info because Trent was boring with a capital B. He kept mostly to himself and was always either tinkering with some computer at school or reading graphic novels during class. And yet, he still managed to pull straight As. We all thought he was a shoo-in for valedictorian, but Suzy Braxton somehow got it. We speculated that whatever Trent had done at his old school must have affected his grades and trickled over.
“And he goes to Maine State. My, oh my, how the plot thickens,” Derek said, rubbing his hands together.
“Shut it. I think he’s in some graduate program. He’s a total brain.”
“I like my eye candy to have a little upstairs too. As long as he can match his abilities downstairs,” Cameo interjected. She eyed him like he was an all-you-can-eat buffet.
I glared at her. “You’re out of your league, honey,” I said, taking a sip of my beer as I watched Trent make his way into the main part of the living room. He had yet to notice me, which was fine with me. I knew when I transferred to MSC there was a chance I would run into him. The previous summer in Woodfalls we had spoken for a few minutes and he made a point of telling me he would see me around campus. Thankfully, our paths had not crossed until now.
“You seem to know an awful lot about someone you have no interest in,” Cameo pointed out.
“We live in a small town. People know when you take a piss in Woodfalls.”
“Maybe, but you seem to have a little sparkle in your eye. Just sayin’.”
Thankfully, Derek changed the subject to some reality show he and Cameo were completely obsessed with. I tried to watch it with them a couple of times, but it took lame-ass to a whole new level.
While they discussed the latest drama on the show—something about one of the girls getting it on with two guys in the hot tub on the same night—I watched Trent. He was stationed against one of the walls, surveying the crowd as if he was waiting for someone. Free to study him without detection, I tried to understand why Derek and Cameo seemed so fascinated with him. As far as Cameo was concerned, the fact that he was male was half the battle. Derek, though, was harder to please. Sure, if you removed his glasses and maybe messed up his hair a little, Trent wouldn’t be half bad. He had been blessed with blue eyes that were so clear they seemed electrified. And I guess I couldn’t deny he looked like he had a decent build, even though his nerdy Batman T-shirt made it hard to focus on anything beneath it. I was watching him so intently that I was caught off guard when he left his spot against the wall. Without thinking, I ducked behind Derek before Trent’s eyes moved in my direction.
“Babes, your hottie friend is heading this way,” Derek said blandly, turning to where I was huddled behind him.
“You can stop hiding. It looks like he found what he was searching for,” Cameo said with disdain. “No way. Is he seriously hooking up with Panty Muncher?”
“What?” I stood up so quickly I felt slightly dizzy. Quick movements were not the best idea when you were on your third or fourth beer. Trent had stopped not ten feet from us to chat with Patty Jones, who we had dubbed “Panty Muncher” since she always seemed to have her panties all up in her junk. She was also notorious for giving half the male population at Maine State College an all-access pass. “Oh, hell no. She’ll chew him up and spit him out,” I muttered, not sure why I even cared. I should have been pleased that he was on someone else’s radar. Maybe if it was anyone but twat-face Patty I wouldn’t have felt the insane urge to rush in and rescue him.
I watched from my vantage point as Patty ran a finger up his arm and leaned in close to whisper into his ear. The need to protect Trent from her roared through me like an angry lion. I practically pounced away from my friends and within a few strides forward, I was standing in front of Nerd Boy and Camel Toe.
“Tressa, hey,” Trent said, pushing his glasses back up the bridge of his nose. They only seemed to magnify the intense blue of his eyes, and I found myself momentarily distracted. “I didn’t know you were here,” he added, extracting his arm from Patty’s.
“What are you doing here?” I cringed
at how bitchy I sounded, but seeing him on my turf was more unsettling than I expected.
“Tristan Wilder wants me to take a look at his laptop,” he answered, not breaking eye contact. This was one of the issues I had with Trent. He looked you right in the eyes, like he was studying you or something. The few conversations I’d had with him over the years made me feel like he was always digging for something more. It was like his mind needed to analyze everything that was said. Being more of a crowd-pleaser, I felt comfortable with lighter conversation and keeping things fun. I felt we didn’t need to take life so seriously. We were only young once. The time would come when we could put on our adult faces, but not now.
“Oh, so you’re not here for the party?” I asked, looking pointedly at Patty, who was still eyeing Trent like he was a hot Scottish man in a kilt.
“Why don’t you mind your own business?” Patty said.
“Why don’t you shut up, bitch, before I make you my business,” I returned sternly. “I’ll show you where Tristan is,” I said to Trent, grabbing his wrist to pull him away from Patty before she could corrupt him. It took me a few minutes to stop fuming. Trent offered no resistance as I dragged him away like a dog on a leash. The surge of protectiveness I felt disappeared the instant we stepped outside. What the hell was I doing? I avoided him like the plague back home, and suddenly I felt the need to swoop in and save him. I would have blamed it on the liquor I had consumed, but I knew that was a crap excuse. Hell, I wasn’t even tipsy. “You could have waited until morning to check out Tristan’s laptop,” I snapped at him.
“Why?” He put on the brakes, bringing us to a halt with my hand still wrapped around his wrist.
I dropped it like it was a poisonous snake. “Because this kind of party isn’t for you, especially during pledge week. Things get pretty wild.” As if to prove my point, someone hugging another mattress leapt from the second-floor balcony and landed no more than three feet from where we were standing. The fraternity pledge climbed off the mattress, grinning like a buffoon before staggering off. Between flying mattresses and the wrestling, which had escalated to an all-out mud-slinging war, the backyard was total chaos. The kind of chaos I would have enjoyed if I wasn’t babysitting “Clark Kent,” as Derek had called him. Normally, I would have been in the thick of things. I freaking loved pledge week. It was cheap entertainment to see what the pledges would do to get into a fraternity.