“It still manages to feel like the middle of nowhere. Come on, I’ll treat. You pick the day.”
She gazed up at me.
I expected to see happy excitement in her eyes. Instead, they held trepidation. “What? What’s going on? We had a deal. We made a bet.”
“I know.”
“What? You made the bet because you didn’t think I’d get the grade. Is that it? Now you’re welching?”
“We already hung out. On Saturday.”
“Saturday didn’t count. Shouting a few words at each other while terrible music played doesn’t come close to hanging out.”
“We stood around outside in between bands. There was drinking. That’s hanging out.”
“Why are you arguing semantics with me?”
Sighing, she wound a few long strands of hair around her fingers. “I don’t want to be some sort of prize.”
I sat down at the head of the table, confused. “We had a deal. We negotiated. We shook on it.”
She got up to write something on the board, not making eye contact with me. “I showed up Saturday in good faith you’d get at least an A–. So we’re even.”
This wasn’t the way things were supposed to work out. Saturday night had been a bonus, but not the real deal.
“We agreed on dinner for an A–. On me. Going to the diner with all my friends, and you paying for your own fries doesn’t count.”
She faced me. “It counts.”
“What does a guy have to do to get you to go out with him?” I leaned back in my chair.
“Ask me.”
Her two words changed everything.
I never had to work for anything in my life. Not even boarding school. When I got kicked out of one for breaking rules or smoking pot, my parents found another school willing to take my full tuition. Smart enough to coast, that’s what I did. Good looking enough to have girls ask me out worked for me. I could’ve dated anyone I wanted. They knew it. I knew it. Everything had been too easy.
Then I arrived here on this rainy campus in a podunk city on the wrong coast. What mattered two years ago, meant nothing now. I was adrift and out of my element. Sure, I managed to cover it up with the same bravado and cocky attitude, but clearly Jo saw through my bullshit.
And happily called me out on it, without me having to mention a thing.
Ask her out?
How stupid was I?
I’d been playing it so cool, I didn’t think to be direct.
Clearly, for the first time, how deeply I’d underestimated Jo hit me.
Before I could fix the mess I created, Curtis and Cardigan walked in holding hands. When they saw us, they quickly broke apart and took seats on opposite sides of the table.
Today had been full of revelations. I wonder what the odds were for their relationship.
“I invited Jo to our Halloween party this weekend.” Maggie dipped a crouton into ranch dressing and ate it. Her salad bowl contained tomatoes, cucumbers, a few black olives, and croutons, but no lettuce.
Evidently, Quinn had harangued her into guilt.
Somehow he’d managed to convince both the Dean of Students and his academic advisor the protest had been a performance piece. Even got his advisor to write a letter of support since nothing was damaged and no lettuce harmed. Or something. The tree-hugger had mad persuasion skills.
“And? Is she coming?” I focused on deconstructing and reassembling my turkey sandwich into the proper order of bread, meat, tomato, lettuce, cheese, and bread. The tomato should never touch the bread.
“She said she had other plans, but might stop by.” She crunched on another crouton. “But I got the feeling she didn’t really mean it.”
I frowned at my tray. I could man up and ask her out, but every signal she sent me told me to back off.
No way was I going to stick out my neck and get rejected. Benton Grant didn’t get rejected. Rejection wasn’t something I’d experienced and I felt fine with avoiding it.
I jabbed my finger into the center of my sandwich. My appetite had disappeared.
Maggie prattled on about party plans. “Quinn’s making something called jungle juice. He’s buying the fruit today and will start marinating it in whatever liquor he can get a hold of. He mentioned a source for Everclear.”
“With Everclear?” Basically pure alcohol, it packed a serious punch, and should’ve been illegal . . . and was in a couple of states
“It might be the one night I stick with beer.” She wrinkled her nose.
“Sounds like it should be renamed hangover juice.” I bit into my pickle. The sourness matched my mood. “We made something similar in boarding school with oranges and vodka. Soaked the orange wedges, then ate them. What looked like a healthy snack appropriate for a Saturday soccer or lacrosse match got us seriously messed up.”
“You got drunk at the matches?” She sounded shocked.
“Not when I played. Well, not really drunk. More buzzed. I played better with a little buzz going. It made me more aggressive.”
“Bet your coaches loved you.”
“They did until I overdid it the night before State Finals.”
“You showed up drunk?”
“No, with a major hangover. I threw up in the cooler.”
“Ewww.” She pushed her bowl away. “You lost the championship?”
“We shut them out.” Pride colored my words.
“Teenage boys are weird.” Wadding up her napkin, she tossed it on her tray.
“Speaking of boys, have you seen Gil around?” The two of them were typically joined at the hip. I figured she was the best person to ask.
“I think he’s hanging out with Dawn.”
“Who’s Dawn?” I ran through a rolodex of names in my head.
“The girl he’s been seeing this month?” Her tone told me I hadn’t been paying close enough attention to my friends’ dating lives.
“Wait, I thought you two were dating.”
She snorted and the snort turned into an awkward laughter. “No!”
“It’s not completely crazy. You’re always hanging out together.”
“He’s like my brother.”
“Lies. I have a sister and she has never once looked at me the way you two look at each other. Ever.” I shuddered at the thought.
She blushed, but denied it. “No way. Girls and guys can be best friends.”
Smirking, I lifted an eyebrow. “No, they can’t. I saw When Harry Met Sally.”
“We’re friends.”
“Yeah, but we’re not best friends. And before you say Quinn is your best friend, he doesn’t count. He no more wants to get under your skirt than he wants to go to a strip club.”
“I disagree. Gil and I have even slept in the same bed. He’s never made a move.”
I frowned, thinking about why any guy wouldn’t make a move on Maggie. I knew I hadn’t because she was also Selah’s best friend. To avoid drama, unless Maggie would be “the one,” she was off limits. Some sort of girl code.
“Doesn’t mean he didn’t want to.” I took a bite of my sandwich, confident in being correct.
“You’re crazy.” She glanced down at her watch. “I’m going to be late for class.”
I dropped the subject of Maggie and Gil. None of my business if they were playing the platonic game.
“Don’t forget to get a costume for Thursday!” She left me alone at the table.
Costume?
“Sabotage” ~ Beastie Boys
LATE THURSDAY AFTERNOON I realized I forgot to buy a costume. Or even a mask. Opening my closet door, I studied the contents. I flipped through my clothes and ties, hoping for inspiration. Taking out Gandalf, I set it on my desk to reach the stuff I didn’t wear often. In the back I found the garment bag with my favorite suit. The suit had a few wrinkles, but considering it had been in a bag for months, it wasn’t too bad. I shook it out. It would do.
An idea came to mind. Rather than go scary this year, I’d play to character. Or who people saw me as.
After I got dressed, I packed my pipe and tucked it in my suit pocket with a lighter. Eyeing my bong, I decided to take a quick, pre-party hit.
I didn’t bother with the towel or my window. One hit. No harm.
Satisfied with my buzz and costume, I swung open my door right as Jeff the RA walked by. Nose in the air and sniffing audibly, he had clearly been looking for the source of the herbal smoke that followed me like my shadow.
“Grant.”
“Hey there, Jeff. I’m headed out for the evening.”
“Nice suit. We need to talk before you take off.” He gestured behind me. I followed the direction of his finger and saw Gandalf sitting majestically on the desk in plain view.
“It’s a sculpture.”
“Don’t bullshit me, Ben. I know what a bong looks like.”
I held up my palms. “Okay, it’s not only a sculpture. It has a water feature, too.” I cracked up at my own joke.
He didn’t even twitch a lip in amusement. “I’m going to have to write you up for an infraction.”
“No way. Come on, Jeff. We’re buddies. You know I’m a good guy.” I searched my brain for something to bargain with, some angle I could work. “Aren’t you from Denver? Broncos are doing really well this season. You going home for winter break? I know someone who could get you sweet seats for one of their home games.”
“I hate football.” He crossed his arms and planted his feet. “Nice try, though. Subtle, but still a bribe. It’s campus policy. I need to write it up. Or I could lose my job.”
“Is this going on my permanent record?” I tried to joke.
“It’ll go in your file, yes.”
I started to panic, my anxiety ratcheted up with my heart rate. “Like on my official transcript? What if I want to apply to grad school or run for office?”
“You want to run for office? Like politics? Maybe you should have thought about your future before you smoked ganja.”
Who even said ganja anymore? “No, I want to get my MBA. I can’t get the job I want without it.”
“Again, you should have listened to Nancy and said no.” He quoted Nancy Reagan’s famous anti-drugs slogan.
Sighing, I shook my head and closed my eyes. “Fine. Do what you got to do. I’m late for a Halloween party.”
“You’re going to a party in a suit?”
‘“It’s a costume.” I held up my briefcase.
“Yuppie asshole?”
“Close enough, but no prize for you.”
“You’ll have to attend a disciplinary hearing next week.” He stood where I left him in front of my door.
“Fine. Let me know when and where.”
“You won’t need to wear the suit.”
“Thanks.”
The night went from mediocre to horrible in the span of five minutes. My mood followed.
At the party I stood in the corner, drinking Quinn’s version of spodie. Koolaid, fruit, alcohol—the combination worked its magic on me. After my fourth cup, I couldn’t give a rat’s ass about anything.
When I woke up the next morning, my head pounded and my lip hurt. I ran my tongue over the tender skin, and tasted copper. If I moved my head, the room spun. I lay on my back, keeping as still as possible while I waited for details of the night to filter through my fuzzy brain.
Jeff spying Gandalf was crystal clear. Arriving and chugging a couple of cups of liquor out of a trashcan were less solid. Everything else fused together into loud static in my brain.
Drinking, smoking my pipe.
A room crowded with too many people. Dancing.
Loud music.
Women shrieking with screams of laughter.
Being called Alex P. Keaton by anyone who got my Family Ties costume.
Jo.
I shut my eyes to concentrate on the memory of Jo. What had she worn? Who did she show up with?
Her costume had something to do with feathers. Or wings. Maybe both. An angel? No, too trite for her. Swan?
Sitting up too quickly, I groaned.
Bile tickled the back of my throat as I remembered throwing up in some bushes outside a dorm. Somehow I knew it wasn’t my own dorm.
I swallowed. A painful throbbing took over my left temple. I closed one eye.
A grainy video played in my brain. Me. Standing outside the unknown dorm, shouting and slurring my words.
Dread settled in my stomach.
I’d been shouting Jo’s name.
Outside her dorm.
In the rain.
Like a drunk asshole.
With both my palms, I rubbed my eyelids, pressing into the sockets, trying to erase the memory while simultaneously filling in the gaps.
My fist making contact with a guy’s face flashed clearly into focus. I touched my lip in memory of his knuckle busting my lip.
Who was the guy?
He wore clown makeup.
I hated clowns.
Maybe he was a mime.
I hated mimes even more.
Hobo? He might’ve had a stupid sack on a stick.
Reality broke through my haze. He’d come with Jo.
I’d asked if he was her date and she told me it was none of my business. That pissed me off. Then the clown dissed my costume. I threw a punch.
Probably not one of the smartest things I’ve done. And I’ve done a lot of dumb shit over the years.
Someone pounded on my door.
“Go away!”
They kept pounding.
The last person who assaulted my door had been Jo.
I leapt up. Bad idea. Being vertical made my head throb and spin. The bile rose again. I bent over to let the nausea pass for a minute while the pounding continued.
“Hold on. Give a guy a minute.”
The knocking stopped.
The second I opened the door, Jo stormed into the room. I leaned against the wall to get out of her way.
“Welcome.” I rubbed the scruff on my face and ran my tongue over my teeth. I should’ve brushed them before answering the door. My mouth tasted like something died in it while I slept.
“Your lip is cut.” She gestured to her own mouth.
“Yeah, I think I remember how it happened.”
“You think?”
“Last night’s pretty fuzzy.”
She stood in the middle of the room, arms crossed.
“You want to sit down?” I gestured around my room, pointing out options.
“No, I’m good. I don’t plan to stay.”
I pressed my lips together and nodded. “What can I do for you?”
“Last night is never going to happen again.”
“You’re going to need to be more specific. There are some gaps in my memory.”
“You don’t get to act possessive of me. Or punch guys who talk to me. No, you shouldn’t be punching or fighting with anyone.”
“Fighting isn’t really a problem.”
“None of that Lloyd Dobler in Say Anything stuff outside my dorm either.”
“I had a boombox?” Wow, I really didn’t remember much from last night.
“No, but you screamed my name loud enough that everyone on my floor who had been sleeping, because it was three in the morning, heard you, and woke up.”
“I didn’t know your room. If I did, I would’ve thrown rocks at your window.”
“And probably broken a window.”
“You heard me?”
“How do you think you made it home? My roommate and I helped lug your dead weight back here. You could have played Bernie in Weekend at Bernie’s.”
“You know that movie? I love Bernie.”
“Not really the point, Ben.” No question about it, she was mad.
Slumping to the floor, I exhaled a long puff of air. “The two of you carried me back here?”
“Three of us. My friend Trey helped.”
The name sounded familiar. “Is he the asshole I punched?”
“He’s not
an asshole, but yes, that’s the guy you gave a black eye to last night.”
“Only assholes dress up as clowns. I hate clowns. They’re fucking creepy, hiding behind their costume and makeup. But underneath the bright, cheerful exterior lurks evil. Trust me.”
She let me prattle on for a minute before interrupting me. “The reason I stopped by this afternoon is to draw some boundaries.”
I squinted at my clock. “It’s three o’clock?”
“Boundaries?” She leaned against my desk.
“What? Right. Why?”
“To be blunt? You’re a mess.”
“But you like me. I know you do. You showed up at Gil’s gig.”
“Maggie invited me.”
“But we hung out.”
“With the group. Listen, I like you, but that’s as far as this goes. You need to get your shit together.”
I laughed, tilting my head to rest on the wall. “You sound like my parents.”
“You should probably listen to them. You’re not a stupid guy.”
“Gee, thanks. Are you my guidance counselor now?” Defensiveness edged my voice. “Last time I checked, I’m an adult.”
“Then start acting like one.”
My head hurt too much for this nonsense. “You’re pretty bossy for someone who doesn’t know me.”
“I know you well enough.”
“Is this why you turned me down for the date?”
Staring out the window, she sighed. “Pot smoking slacker isn’t exactly the kind of guy I’m interested in dating.”
“I’m not some stoner, spoiled rich kid.”
“Then prove it.”
I banged my head on the wall. “I don’t need to prove anything to you or anybody else. I don’t owe you anything. You don’t like me because you think you know me from hanging out once or twice? Fine. Your loss.”
“Fine.” She wouldn’t make eye contact. “You do what you gotta do. Don’t involve me in your train wreck.” She stepped over me still sitting on the floor.
I reached up to grab her leg, but she moved too fast.
“See you in study group.” Her voice held none of her usual warmth.
I knocked my head against the wall a couple more times before deciding to smoke away my hangover.
“Better Man” ~ Pearl Jam
THE JUDICIAL COMMITTEE held weekly disciplinary hearings on Wednesday mornings in one of the meeting rooms in the CAB.
We Were Here: A New Adult Romance Prequel to Geoducks Are for Lovers (Modern Love Stories Book 1) Page 11