Chasing Peace

by Foxx, Gloria

  “He’s not here right?”

  “Right….” Annie hesitates as she agrees with me.

  “So long distance relationships never work, especially at our age. You should keep your options open.”

  I had no further chance to convince her as Boston arrived.

  “Hey.”

  “Hi. Boston” I respond, a little awkward, but more comfortable with my plan to push Annie and Boston together. “This is my friend Annie. Annie, I told you about Boston.” Both are looking at me neither looking toward the other.

  He looks even better dressed casually than he does wearing a suit at work. He has a snug long sleeve tee under the same distressed leather jacket that caressed my cheek on Tuesday. I bet he paid a pretty penny for the look. Unlike a lot of other guys, Boston’s jeans are plain with a thick black leather belt. A chunky silver buckle bumps out over his lean stomach and black boots that lace up the front finish the look.

  Annie is drop-dead gorgeous in a bright fuchsia dress, the skirt snug and stretchy and gathered across her hips. The top is half pink, half black and sleeveless. The black crosses over the pink in front somewhere between her breasts, creating a deep vee.

  An oversized black watch on one wrist and a giant black ring shaped like an orchid are her only accessories. Tall platform pumps make her my height and her hair, up in back and down in front with feathery bangs and sides looks immaculate yet messy. Bare arms and legs are luminous. In deference to the cooling autumn temperatures, she has a black and silver pashmina draped over one arm.

  I’m dressed casually in my best jeans with white designs in thick stitching on the back pockets. A loose grey tee with a tribal design in black and grey with red accents across the front ends at my belt. Like Boston’s, it’s worn black leather with a hefty, but more feminine buckle. I have short boots that are comfortable for standing and walking, but not comfortable enough to dance. I don’t dance and wearing the wrong shoes gives me a good excuse if someone tries to push.

  No one spoke, making me uncomfortable as I look back and forth between Boston and Annie. For some reason, I’m nervous around Boston and I think Annie can tell.

  Then he really surprised me. “It’s nice to meet you Annie.” Boston turned toward Annie taking her hand, like he might shake it, but instead he rests his other hand on her bare upper arm as he leans in to kiss her cheek. Wait ... what? Do they already know each other? Alarm bells clang inside my head and I’m now more worried than confused. What the hell?

  “It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Annie says as she steps away, her voice smooth and polite, polished like they were meeting at a garden party.

  They didn’t know each other. My equilibrium returns as I watch Annie checking out Boston, interested and assessing. I felt a momentary jolt at the notion of pushing them together.

  “Maybe we should go,” I say, even more uncomfortable standing around while they’re checking out each other. I’m not sure what I expected, but this lump forming in my stomach and expanding into my throat wasn’t it.

  “Yes, let’s,” Annie says as she wraps one arm around Boston’s bicep while holding on with the other hand, her breasts pressed above his elbow. “Tell me Boston, how do you and Sterling know each other.”

  I follow behind rolling my eyes at her antics. I’m irritated, but not because I’m interested in Boston. Sure I think he’s cute. Sure I enjoy his friendship, at least so far, but no, I don’t want a relationship. I’ve had enough trouble with boyfriends over the past five years and I can’t imagine getting involved with anyone ever again.

  Annie drives a sleek black sport utility. I could see her in a sports car or even a chauffeured town car or limo, but a sport utility doesn’t quite fit. I offered Boston the front seat in spite of the pang threatening my stomach when thinking about them sitting up front together. Thankfully he declined, almost pushing me into the front seat while he went around, climbing in behind Annie.

  * * *

  The frat house looked nothing like I expected. I thought a stately old town home, similar to those in the neighborhood, but tattered and poorly maintained like Animal House. Instead we found an ultra modern building in sleek metal, dark concrete and lots of glass. We parked almost two blocks away. As we approached, I marveled at how the modern design meant to be Spartan looked so chaotic with people streaming from every opening.

  Students spilled out on the front patio and drive, overflowing the second and third level balconies and hanging over the rail on the rooftop deck. Laughter, shrieking and music filled the air. At almost eleven, I hoped the neighbors didn’t mind, although I suppose they’re probably college students too and many would be at the party.

  As we enter, I’m amazed at tattered and abused furniture, light fixtures with broken bulbs and missing glass shades. Nearly every wall bore the marks of mistreatment, their finish scared and dented. The house might be new, but its guardians treated it poorly.

  “What should we do first?” I ask feeling uncomfortable and not exactly sure what people do at parties.

  “Let’s find the bar.” Annie had her arms wrapped around Boston’s bicep again.

  “I’m going to have a look around,” he said, disengaging from Annie. “I’ll catch up with you soon.”

  “Wow. This is nothing like I expected. I guess I don’t know what I expected.” We pick and squeeze our way through the crowd, sometimes making full-body contact with people we’ve never met as we slide through. We meet some in less than ideal circumstances while also enduring a few grabs and pinches along the way.

  While the living room had been crowded, easily twice the number of people packed the dining room like sardines. An old door balanced on barrels served as a bar and created a barrier between the dining room and kitchen. Tons of people stood around talking and drinking. Annie pushed her way to the bar and asked for vodka straight, “And make it a double, so I don’t have to brave this crowd again too soon.”

  “Annie you’re driving. You can’t drink.” Drunk driving is a deal breaker for me and I’m surprised that Annie doesn’t take it seriously.

  “Are you drinking?”

  “No.” I don’t drink, let alone drink and drive.

  “Good. You can drive.” She hands over her keys.

  I don’t feel good about driving such an expensive car when mine is worth about two hundred bucks on a good day. Still, I tuck the keys into my pocket, making sure she won’t have access. “I’m not sure I’m comfortable with this Annie.”

  “Come on Sterling. Live a little.”

  I give in for now and we make our way back to the living room, Annie with a plastic cup in hand.

  “So whaddya wanna do?” I shout over the noise of blaring music and hundreds of voices trying to talk above the din.

  “Let’s hang out a minute, see what’s going on. Maybe we’ll find a seat.”

  Haunting the sidelines until a chair opens up, I watch two girls, each with their mouths on the end of a short tube filled with a brightly colored gelatinous substance. Another wearing a bikini poured booze from a white bottle onto her chest and encouraged passing guys to lick it off.

  Without a designated space for dancing, couples and groups danced where they stood lending an undulating quality to the room. I saw cash exchange hands for what I thought must be drugs as well as hookups right there in the living room. In their defense, I’m sure most everyone is wasted.

  “I’m going to go find a bathroom. You wait here, see if you can find a seat,” said Annie.

  “I’ll show you where,” said the guy to Annie’s left.

  Bathroom my ass. Okay, well maybe bathroom, but they’re off to find some privacy. I don’t mind being left behind and I wonder about the relationship Annie mentioned earlier, telling me she’s committed and then going off with the first guy she meets. Oh wait, they didn’t actually meet. They just went off together.

  I’m leaning against the wall abandoned by my friends and trying to stay away from the sardine crush. I have zero intere
st in sliding my body against strangers just to make it through the crowd.

  “Crazy huh?”

  I don’t realize he’s talking to me until I don’t hear anyone else respond. Looking around I see him staring right at me and he’s gorgeous.

  He has raven black hair that reminds me of the runner’s tattoo and green eyes so clear and bright they call to mind the earliest grass of spring. He’s tall too. At least he’s taller than me, but he’s young, too young for me. Besides, I’m not looking for anyone right now.

  I look away, without responding.

  “I’ll tell you what. If you can tell me the name of this frat, I’ll leave you alone.”

  The logical part of my brain perks up, wondering what he might be doing. He has confidence. That’s for sure.

  “I can tell you more than that. You’re a high achiever,” I say. “You play football and are part of a fraternity, but not this one. You were raised middle to upper middle class. Your eyes say artist or poet, but your haircut is too sharp. I’d say you’re studying engineering. You were raised by a single mother and you live with a cat.”

  His eyes go bright as I talk and his mouth droops in shock by the time I’m done.

  “Oh, and one more thing, I’m not here to meet a frat guy.”

  Lyla calls it reading people I just tell it like I see it.

  “How’d you do that?”

  “What? Oh,” I grin. “Right on all counts huh?”

  “Am I being punked?”

  Now I laugh. “Hey, you came to me. I’m Sterling.”

  “No. You’re prettier than silver.”

  “Tired,” I say, drawing out the word, emphasizing the lack of originality in his comment. “I’ve heard it a thousand times.” He blushed at being shot down when he thought himself clever.

  “Sorry. I’m Luke. How’d you do it?”

  “You’re obviously athletic, but too bulky for baseball, basketball, soccer and crew. That leaves football and Lacrosse. Football’s more popular, so a safe bet. You’re familiar with the Greek alphabet and obviously not involved with theatre, so it’s got to be a frat. The logos on your clothing tell me they come from department stores rather than high-end designer or discount big box.”

  “Wow. I’m impressed, but what makes you think I’m not a poet if I have the eyes for it?”

  “Your eyes make you look thoughtful, so I threw in the stuff about looking artistic. However, your haircut is too sharp for someone in a creative field. It’s more staid, maybe military, but you’re here and this school is known for engineering. One of the frats is engineers.”

  “Well done. So how did you know about the cat?”

  I reached toward him and plucked a silky white hair off his shirt. “It’s the first week of classes. There hasn’t been enough time to shed all the cat hair from home.”

  He laughed. “For a minute there, I thought you were a genius, but you’re wrong about the cat. It’s not mine. It belongs to my mother.”

  “No genius here. I rely on educated guesses and my amazing powers of observation.”

  He leans closer, tipping his head toward mine. “Why did you throw in that you’re not here to meet a frat guy.”

  “Why else would you ask me to name the frat, because you wanted to know if I am to meet frat guys? You shouldn’t underestimate women like that.”

  “What do you mean?”

  “The name is spelled out in giant letters on the front of the building. I, for example, am here for the party, not a frat guy, but I couldn’t miss that this is alpha, sigma, phi on my way in, unless I’m blind. Then there’s the wall behind you.”

  He turned to look at the Greek letters painted in impressive proportions on the living room wall.

  Blushing now he says, “You should know that most girls here couldn’t read those letters if their social life depended on it, unless they’re here to meet a frat guy or already in a sorority.”

  “Okay, I’ll give you that.”

  “Hey, would you like to sit?”

  A few people to my left had moved and Luke spotted the chair.

  “You sit. I’m fine here.”

  “My mom would kill me if I sat and left you standing. Either you sit or we both stand.”

  “Fine, I’ll sit. My friend Annie might like a chair when she gets back.”

  * * *

  Luke eventually sat on the arm of my chair and I turned sideways as we talked. He kept other guys away, serving a purpose. I didn’t mind talking to him either and that helped pass the time, until interest began to sprout in his eyes.

  “I’m here with someone, you know.” The light in his eyes dulled a bit, but didn’t completely extinguish.

  “He’s not taking very good care of you Sterling, leaving you to be hit on and picked up by these drunken bozos.”

  “What makes you think I need someone to take care of me?” He’s right and I’m defensive. Boston isn’t proving to be much of a date and I’m thankful because it’s not supposed to be a date. Now I feel guilty about using him as an excuse to keep Luke away when I have no plans for anything more.

  I’m beginning to think Annie has the right idea. A fake boyfriend at home would give me just the excuse I need to put off guys who might be interested.

  “Everyone needs someone Sterling. We’re not meant to do this alone,” he says watching me closely, the flecks in his eyes going from green to almost blue with the lights dancing in the dim room. “Do you wanna dance?”

  I almost said yes. There’s something about eye contact that draws me to others, so I’ve learned to avoid it as much as possible, hiding inside my own head.

  “There you are.” I look up and startle as I meet Boston’s eyes. He’s standing behind Luke, looking past him, pinning me to the spot.

  Luke turns, craning his neck to look behind and up at Boston.

  “Let’s dance.” His hand reaches past Luke’s shoulder to help me from the chair.

  I don’t move. I want to, but I really shouldn’t. I start to use my boots as an excuse, “I don’t…” and then I remember. Oh hell! I just told Luke that I’m here with Boston. Now I have to dance with him. Taking Boston’s hand, I stand just in time to see Annie coming our way.

  Her eyes are shiny and her cheeks flushed and she wanders, not quite charting a straight path toward us, she moves with the telltale caution of someone trying to hide that they’re drunk. “I’ve been looking for you.”

  “Annie? Are you okay?” I grasp her hand as she sways. Boston takes hold of her shoulders from behind. She doesn’t seem to notice. A bright smile flashes white teeth, but it doesn’t reach her eyes.

  “Fine…. Tired…. Can we go?” She slumps a bit into Boston’s hands, but he has her. She doesn’t fall.

  “Sit here for a minute.” Boston guides Annie into my vacant chair. “Sterling and I are going to dance. Then we can go.”

  “Annie this is my new friend Luke.” I turn to him, “Can you watch her for a minute?” I know how to handle drunks, and hope Luke knows better than to antagonize her.

  “I’ll keep a close eye on her.” He’s mollified by the assignment. Annie’s cute too. I’m sure that helps. He sits up straight on the arm of the chair as if guarding Annie while she slouches, chin nearly resting on her chest, feet together near Luke’s feet, knees tipped sideways pointing in the opposite direction as if she’d collapsed in the chair or been dragged limp to the seat.

  Chapter 5

  I didn’t want to leave her, shuffling my feet as Boston tugs me near to other couples dancing to the sinuous music.

  “She’ll be fine,” he says, sliding his arm under mine.

  I can feel the heat of his palm against my shoulder blade, warmth radiating from fingers spread across my back. Boston holds my hand tight as if afraid I might bolt. He’s right. I want to run.

  Maintaining distance between us, I keep my eyes trained on his collarbone as we sway. “Where’d you disappear to?”

  “There’s a poker game upstairs.” />
  “Oh.” Conversation is difficult with the lump in my throat. That and I really don’t know what to say.

  “Sterling?”

  “Hmm.” The party had quieted some, the rhythmic swaying almost hypnotizing.

  “Why did you invite me along?”

  My head snaps up at the question, my eyes locking on his. “I thought you and Annie might make a good couple.”

  “Annie’s nice, but I’m not really interested.”

  “Oh.” I can’t say anymore as my breath catches in my throat, depriving my brain of oxygen. His eyes turn dark and fathomless, smoldering where they used to be bright. There’s a thrumming within me as if I can feel my blood hot and liquid coursing through my body, pounding in my ears, entrained to the movements of our bodies, or maybe the music.

  Taken in by his eyes, I don’t notice that we’re swaying closer and closer. I’m not yet aware of the gentle pressure against my back drawing me in until my nipples tingle and tighten as they brush against his chest. I pull back at the jolt to my system, flame scalding me, my pulse now erratic instead of rhythmic.

  “I’ve got you,” Boston breathes, his lips near my ear.

  I try to preserve space between us as my brain stops working on oxygen and logic, instead reverting to the visceral, subsisting on sensation alone. Our bodies mesh, feet entwine, knees alternate, hips align and his cheek rests against my temple.

  When the song ends, and something with a driving, pulsing beat takes over, Boston pulls away composed. “Ready to go?” I ask, my voice low and thready, my eyes sliding sideways now to avoid his.

  “Sure. Can you get Annie’s keys?”

  “I already got ‘em.” Pulling the keys from my pocket, I give him an assessing look. “Can you drive?”

  “Sure.”

  “No I mean have you had anything to drink? Are you okay to drive?”

  “I don’t drink and drive Sterling and I haven’t had anything to drink.”

  “Okay.” I can feel the heat stain my face and I’m thankful for the darkness that hides my reaction. I toss the keys to Boston as we head back toward Annie and Luke. It’s a throw made bad by an unexplained weakness in my limbs, but he manages to snag the keys from the air above and just behind his left shoulder.