by A. J. Truman
“I didn’t know you were coming tonight. I thought you’d go to Michelle’s.” Gilly had a deep voice. Puberty had sure gotten a hold on him. “How’s she doing, by the way?”
“You should CALL her and find out.” Lorna nearly exploded with perkiness and tossed her hair in a touch of flirtation. She knew how to calibrate herself to fit each person.
“Looks like you started the party early,” Gilly said.
“Gilly, this is my friend Ethan. He has never been to a frat party before. Mind if he comes in with me?” She batted her eyelashes and leaned forward, putting her cleavage in clear view. (Once they had decided to hit up the frat party, Lorna had promptly changed outfits into something more eye-catching.) “Are you a freshman?” Gilly asked Ethan.
“No, sir.” Sir? Well, when a guy looked and sounded like a weight room, it paid to be respectful. Especially when you had no upper arm strength of value. “I’m a sophomore.”
“Sophomore? And this is your first frat party?”
“Help me pop his cherry, Gilly.”
“Well, have fun, dude.” Gilly motioned for them to enter. He patted Ethan on the back, and Ethan fell to the ground. Balance when drunk required practice, he was discovering.
The party happened all around them. The living room had been converted into a dance floor, but that was just a starting-off point. People danced and talked and even hooked up in all the nooks and crannies of the house. Kegs were scattered in each room. It was actually a smart setup that prevented clogs of people in the hall.
Ethan kept his eyes focused on Lorna’s hair. She sent a text as soon as they got inside. The rush of coeds did not phase her.
He was too scared to look around. What if he saw Greg? And what if Greg saw him? What would happen then? Ethan wasn’t ready for that scenario. Not before he restocked on liquid courage.
“Shall we make our way upstairs?” Lorna asked.
“Sure.” She took a step, and Ethan grabbed her arm. “Actually, can we stop at the keg first?”
“You don’t want that. Sahil has top-shelf liquor in his room.”
An alarm blared in Ethan’s head. “We can’t go to Sahil’s room. That’s Greg’s room! They’re roommates!”
“No, they’re not. Sahil has a single.”
“Really?”
Lorna sized up Ethan and laughed. “You are trashed.”
He was. The music vibrated in his ears and hijacked his brainwaves. He stopped thinking about the moment and just lived it.
“What are you doing?”
“Huh?”
Lorna leaned back and took a good look at him. Ethan bounced to the music, bobbing his head from side to side. He couldn’t help it. The beat overtook him, and he had to expound his nervous energy somehow.
Plus, it was fun.
Lorna joined in and grinded against him. Ethan went with it. He let the crowds and the sweat and the moving blue-and-red track lights carry him.
Once the song changed, Ethan stopped. “Okay, now let’s find some alcohol.”
Φ
Frats never put out the good stuff for parties. They got kegs to attract crowds, but they saved the top-shelf liquor and quality beer for each other. Thus, if you wanted a real drink rather than warmed-over keg crap, you had to know a guy in the frat. Luckily, Lorna did.
“Great. Sahil says he’s got Patrón. We can do tequila shots!” Lorna said, putting away her phone.
“I love tequila shots!”
“Have you ever had tequila shots?”
“No.”
Upstairs was much quieter. People hung out in rooms. It was like a VIP area, and Ethan felt a rush of cool.
Sahil hung out on an ugly mustard-yellow couch in his room with two girls, while another wasted frat brother sat on a beanbag chair.
“Hola!” Sahil greeted her with a hug.
Ethan’s stomach clenched up when he entered, but Greg wasn’t there. Maybe he was downstairs. He hoped they would naturally and casually bump into each other. Oh, this is your frat? What a small world!
Ethan and Lorna shared a desk chair. Lorna did all the talking, and Sahil handed him the shot and lime.
“Now hold out your arm,” she instructed.
“Which one?”
“The one that you don’t hold the shot glass with.”
“Um, that was a lot of words. I’m confused.”
Lorna yanked his right arm and dabbed salt. He had an open wound (a paper cut) and yelped in pain.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
“Do you know how to do a tequila shot? Like have you ever seen one being done?”
He whipped his head from side to side, letting wisps of blond shuffle in front of his eyes.
Lorna went through the instructions, and Ethan wished he had a notepad. He didn’t understand why drinking had to be so complicated.
“So remember. Lick the salt, take the shot, suck on the lime.” Lorna spoke slowly. She would make a good teacher, he thought.
“Lick it. Take it. Suck it. Got it.”
“Ready? On the count of three. One…two…three!”
Ethan licked, took, and sucked. The shot was a bipolar rush of taste, but the three parts combined made everything go down fairly smooth. The tequila seared a hole in his stomach. He could feel himself rise two notches on the drunk scale. He sucked on the lime like a pacifier until the taste subsided.
“What are you doing?” Sahil’s booming voice asked them from across the room.
Ethan instantly put down the lime and stepped away from the alcohol. Sahil climbed over people on the floor. He grabbed the bottle of tequila. “When you do a shot in this room, it’s customary—nay, common courtesy—to ask the host to join.” And with that, Sahil poured the three of them another shot.
“What’s the punishment for breaking the rules?” Lorna dipped her finger into her shot and placed a drop on her tongue.
“Wouldn’t you like to know?”
“Maybe.”
“Whoa, get a room!” Ethan said.
“Well, I do have a room, and you’re in it.” Sahil held up his shot and lime. Lorna and Ethan followed suit.
“What are we toasting to?” Lorna asked.
“To living it up tonight. Woo!” Sahil yelled in Ethan’s ear and nearly blew out his ear drum. They cheers-ed.
Lick it. Take it. Suck it.
That one went down a little easier than the first, but Ethan would never not feel the burn.
“So be honest, Lorna, is this guy your boyfriend?”
Ethan couldn’t stop his blushing. Sahil knew how to catch him off-guard.
“Why? Jealous?” Lorna asked.
“Maybe just a little,” Sahil said with a smile that tried to hide some truth.
Ethan could’ve kept up the charade and laughed along, but here he was, drinking Sahil’s top-shelf liquor. Some parts of him didn’t need to remain private. He made a mental calculation and decided that Sahil wasn’t going to throw him out of his room and incur the wrath of Lorna.
“Actually, I’m gay,” Ethan said.
Lorna and Sahil’s head both swiveled to face him. The music kept going, but Ethan only heard deafening silence. He’d never seen Sahil this serious, and perhaps his calculations were off.
Sahil put down his shot glass and raised his arm. Ethan realized that he was waiting for a high-five.
“YEAH, RAINBOW!”
Ethan reluctantly high-fived back. He couldn’t tell if Sahil was genuinely happy or relieved that Lorna was still single.
“That’s awesome,” Sahil said. He went to pouring them another shot.
“Really?” Ethan asked.
“Yeah, dude.” Like it was no big deal, which apparently it wasn’t to Sahil. Maybe Greg had read him all wrong.
Or maybe he didn’t want me coming to the frat house. Ethan’s world spun in a slow circle. Partially thanks to the alcohol. Greg had lied about Sahil, and he’d lied about being roommates. He probably had a single. Bedrooms are so boring.
They’re not us, he had told Ethan. He should’ve known that was code for, I don’t want my frat brothers to find out I’m a big homo.
Lorna sprinkled salt on Ethan’s arm. “You ready?”
“Hey, Sahil,” Ethan said. He cut limes for them. “Where is Greg’s room?”
CHAPTER twenty-three
Greg Sanderson had a bobblehead collection. Famous baseball players Ethan didn’t recognize, Family Guy characters, and even a Muppet hidden in the back. He had them lined up in neat row on his dresser, not a speck of dust to be found. One glimpse inside Greg’s bedroom, and Ethan already knew so much about him.
“Ethan, wait up.” Lorna froze when she reached the threshold, which was the all-too-appropriate word here. This was more than a room. It was a mecca for Ethan. Real uncharted territory.
He took in every detail. The Kappa Kappa Sigma banner hanging on the wall. The PC laptop closed on his desk. Two button-down shirts—one plaid, one solid navy—hanging over his desk chair. Ethan never realized how much he craved details.
And then there was Greg’s bed, which consisted of a rumpled brown comforter bunched over the sheets with pillows mashed together in a corner.
“You shouldn’t be in here,” Lorna said, and it sounded like a challenge.
Ethan squatted down and smelled the sheets. He squeezed them in his fist. It was Greg’s scent, the comingling of his laundry detergent and fabric softener mixed with his natural boy scent. In that moment, he felt like Greg was behind him, enveloping him in a hug. They’d never hugged. Ethan missed him.
“I have an idea.” Lorna’s smile got him intrigued. “Give me your phone. We’re going to text Greg a picture.”
“Of what?”
“Of you. On his bed. Showing him what he’s missing.”
Were Ethan sober, he would have told Lorna how stupid the idea was. How Greg would see the text and be totally creeped out.
Were Ethan sober…
“Yes! That’s perfect!” Ethan handed over his phone and sat on the bed. “Greg is going to be so turned on.”
Ethan leaned back on the bed. Greg’s comforter cushioned his back.
“Eh, that’s not sexy.” Lorna tapped her finger to her lip. “Get on all fours.”
“Like a dog?”
She nodded. “Like doggie-style.”
Ethan got into position. He stuck his butt out and looked to the camera. Lorna wasn’t feeling it.
“Do I look sexy?”
“Not sexy enough. Here, get on your knees and face me.”
Lorna had Ethan get into what she called a “supermodel on the beach” pose. He spread his knees apart and bent his arms over his head.
“Imagine Greg is underneath you fucking your brains out. Show me that face.”
Some embarrassment crept into Ethan’s alcohol-soaked brain while he posed, but he wanted to turn Greg on. He wanted Greg to notice him and be compelled to text him back. He pictured exactly what Lorna asked, and the sexiness was a champagne fountain rolling over him and filling him up. He pouted his lips and gave the camera his best “don’t you wanna fuck me” stare.
“Yes! Yes! This is so hot!” Lorna exclaimed.
“OH YEAH! GIVE IT TO ME, BABY!” Sahil cheered them on from the doorway.
And Greg was right beside him. He was not cheering.
Ethan sprung off the bed and tripped onto the floor. Greg knelt to help him out.
“What the fuck are you doing?” Greg asked through gritted teeth.
“Taking pictures.”
“You’re drunk.”
“You are very observant.”
“How did you sneak in here? Lorna?”
“You remembered my friend’s name?” Ethan was touched. And in response, he touched Greg. He curved his hand around Greg’s forearm.
Greg moved his hand away. Ethan put it back, and Greg took it away, this time more forcefully. “Easy there.” He leaned in, and Ethan got a whiff of his woodsy cologne.
“Lorna, are you shooting a porno in here?” Sahil asked. Lorna slipped Ethan his phone.
“Wouldn’t you like to know?” she cooed back.
“Dude, you are drunk!” Sahil said to Ethan, unaware that his tequila was to blame. “Looks like he wants to jump your bones, Sanderson. You should probably wash your sheets.”
“Can we talk in private?” Ethan asked Greg. He tried to put a hand on his knee, but Greg stood up and took a step back.
“I’d be careful, Sanderson.”
Ethan had never seen Greg so stern, so reserved, so much like Ethan. “Dude, you mind getting off my floor?”
It was like a javelin through the heart. Lorna seemed to get what was going on in an instant. She was that good. She turned to Sahil and stabbed his chest with her finger. “You still owe me a tequila shot.”
She continued tapping him until he escorted her back to his room. The boys were alone. Greg’s whole body seemed to exhale.
“I’m sorry,” Greg said softly.
Ethan didn’t respond. He remained on the floor, like something Greg discarded.
“C’mon, Folly.” Greg had a pleading look in his eyes, a rare moment of seriousness. “Let’s just go to Sahil’s room, pretend this never happened.”
“What never happened? You and me?”
“No, of course not. Just your whole amateur photo shoot. Come on.” And there was Greg’s smile again.
He couldn’t say no to that beautiful face and pouty lips. Greg pulled Ethan off the floor. Ethan held on for a few lingering seconds, and it was as exciting as any of their hookups. He could feel the electric current in Greg’s strong hands pass into him. Until Greg pulled away. Ethan realized just how often he pulled away, no matter how hard Ethan pushed.
“I came here to set the record straight,” Ethan said. “And I did. We can suck each other’s dicks in public. We just can’t hold hands.”
Ethan stepped around him and took in the room, the posters on the walls. He flicked one of the many bobbleheads on Greg’s dresser.
“Folly, I’m sorry. It’s tough for me, okay? I have a reputation to protect.”
“We kissed.” Anger settled into Ethan’s eyes. “We were outside my dorm, and I kissed you, and you didn’t pull away. You kissed me back. What did that mean?”
Greg’s eyes darted around the room, searching for an answer. “I don’t know.”
“I think you do.”
“What do you want? You expect me to walk out this door and proclaim you my boyfriend? You think it’s just that easy?”
“It’s not. I know that.”
“Then stop pushing. What we have, it ain’t broke. So stop trying to fix it.”
“It’s just sex with us.” He shook his head, so frustrated with himself. “And here I thought maybe it was more.”
This time, Ethan didn’t have to storm out like he had at the clothing store. Greg opened the door for him.
CHAPTER twenty-four
Ethan woke up with a huge headache the next morning. The alcohol, plus the memories of what had happened, pounded his skull like little men wielding little sledgehammers. He liked going to parties and drinking, but not getting drunk, not when it left him crouched over a toilet at seven in the morning. At least when he hung out with Jessica and his friends, their definition of fun didn’t leave him feeling like absolute crap.
Greg hadn’t contacted Ethan after he left the frat house. Ethan had thought about texting him, but every time his fingers pulled up Greg’s number, he’d reminded himself that this was Greg’s fault. Ethan had made his move; Greg was the one who forced him to keep the status quo.
He admired the bright red of the tiles on the bathroom wall right before his stomach wrung itself out again. Each of those shots with Lorna, with Sahil, they all came back up. Exhaustion weighed him down to the floor. He hadn’t slept last night. He’d blacked out, then woken up at six and tried to hold back from puking for an hour. Never again.
Somebody knocked on his bathroom stall door. It took Ethan�
��s brain a few seconds to process this and what to do next. Um, obviously he was busy.
“Ethan, are you okay?”
He banged his head on the toilet paper dispenser. Of course, Preston had to be the person who found him in this position. This weekend just can’t get any better.
“I’m fine.” His voice sounded creaky and filled with cobwebs.
“You don’t sound fine. Can I come in?”
Ethan couldn’t believe Preston wanted to see him in all his upchuck glory. Yet when he opened the stall door, there he was, waiting with a glass of water in hand. It made Ethan forget that he was nauseous for a few seconds. The water splashed down his throat and gave his insides a well-needed shower.
“Thank you.”
Preston smiled at him. Those green eyes sparkled in the fluorescent lighting. Any lighting worked for Preston.
“Someone had fun last night.”
“I wish.” Ethan sipped at the water. He figured big gulps would come right back up. “How was Dave’s show? I’m sorry I missed it.”
“It was good. Dave had a rap solo for one song. Who knew the whitest guy at Browerton could rap?”
Ethan wished he could’ve seen it. He’d enjoyed a capella shows in the past, and he probably would’ve loved this one. Maybe his friends weren’t so lame, like Lorna and Greg kept telling him.
“How was Jessica?” Ethan asked. His stomach turned thinking about their fight last night.
Preston bobbed his head back and forth—trying to find a diplomatic way of telling Ethan she hated his guts, probably.
“I just don’t get why she’s so uptight about drinking. This is college. Everybody does it. It’s fun!” Ethan glanced at the toilet. “Sometimes too much.”
Preston got quiet for a moment, and Ethan could tell he’d better listen closely to what came out next.
“Her dad’s an alcoholic. Been in and out of rehab twice.”
Ethan shuttered his eyes. Pieces of Jessica clicked together.
“Guess where he got turned onto the sauce.”
“College.” Ethan didn’t need to guess on that one.
“Yeah, she’s pretty sensitive about it. She doesn’t want to see us go down that path.” Preston squatted down to Ethan’s level, and his clean scent filled the space between them.