Tangled Thoughts

by Cara Bertrand

  As I nursed my warming beer and watched guys and girls get drunk and try to hook up with one another, I wondered if I’d have enjoyed this—college, and everything that came with it—more if I’d gone right away. Which was a stupid thing to wonder.

  Of course I’d have enjoyed college more back then, when I was seventeen and an idiot. Back when hooking up was still my other hobby. Classes that made me think and, literally, thousands of girls I might find a way to sleep with? College would have been my nirvana.

  This party was not helping me feel better. A hand appeared in front of my face, waving, and I blinked.

  “What’s up, man whore? I know what you’re thinking.”

  God fucking bless Lex. Her brown eyes lit with amusement as she blocked me into the little space I’d carved for myself against a wall. I pulled her right up against me. Her height, the curve of her hip where it touched mine, the length of her deep brown hair that tickled my neck—its familiarity always made me breathe a little deeper, even if it was a sensory memory of someone else. “Oh yeah?”

  “Yeah. You’re far more transparent than you think, bad boy. So, see anything you like out there?”

  “I do now.”

  She dragged me to a couch and sat on my lap, mercifully saving me from having to mingle on my own. While we lounged, new friends came and went, courting her favor. I couldn’t decide if it was a shame or blessing Georgetown didn’t have sororities. Alexis Morrow would have ruled them, but it wouldn’t have made her better. As it was, the layers of bitchiness high school had polished to a gleam were slowly dulling and wearing away. I liked her better this way.

  She swirled a finger around my fully warm drink. “You should actually, you know, have a beer.”

  “No thanks.”

  “Carter, seriously.”

  “Have you ever tried to run with a hangover?”

  “I’ve played entire field hockey games while still drunk!”

  “That doesn’t sound fun.”

  She sighed dramatically, the way she always sighed, and shifted so we could see each other. “It wasn’t. But I still scored two goals, and you know what was fun? The night before.”

  “I’m having fun,” I lied.

  “Liar.”

  “I’m trying to have fun.”

  She turned all the way around and leaned in, face right up to mine. “Babe, do you know how? To have fun?”

  I kissed her. It was its own answer, and also because I didn’t know how to answer. But I knew how to kiss.

  “See?” I teased, as Lex disentangled her arms from around my neck and herself from around me. I brushed a lock of her hair over her cheek. “Having fun.”

  Behind us, someone called, “Nice show, Lex,” and another girl whistled.

  Lex muttered, “Douches,” but she was still smiling and I wasn’t fooled. Exhibition was arguably her favorite pastime. “So you don’t want to leave?” she said to me. “Now that we’re ‘having fun’?”

  I did. I’d a million times rather have hung out at my apartment instead. But the party had barely started and she didn’t want to leave. She deserved for me to try. “No, I don’t want to leave.”

  “Liar.”

  “I mean it. I don’t. Because you don’t.”

  “You don’t have to stay for me, babe.”

  “I. Want. To.”

  “Good.” She shifted, ready to get back into the fray. “I want you to, too. Now could you maybe try to mingle?”

  When I heard myself saying the next words, I was ready to punch myself before I was even done. “Is there anyone here my age?”

  She slid backwards off my lap, shaking her head. “You mean forty? No. I don’t think so.” She stood and stretched her arms out, the hem of her sweater giving a sweet peek at the smooth skin underneath. When she saw me watching, she grinned and raised her arms higher. “Pretend you’re at the bookstore, okay? Get people drinks or something. Flirt with some girls and talk about sports or whatever the hell with some guys. Just don’t get in any trouble.”

  “Right. No trouble. Get drinks.” I saluted her as she turned to disappear into the party.

  “Just,” she said, “be yourself. But, like, a relaxed version of yourself.”

  That, I thought, was the problem. I couldn’t relax. Maybe I really didn’t know how to have fun, not in a crowd of strangers. I used to think I knew myself well, but I hadn’t known there was so much I didn’t know. I hated feeling so anonymous, like nobody. Standing in the beer-scented kitchen of people I didn’t know, pouring myself a drink I didn’t really want, felt as far from who I thought I was as I could get.

  But sometimes, when people had no idea who you were, they spoke freely.

  From behind me, I heard my uncle’s name. He wasn’t being discreet about it either, this kid, pronouncing Astor like it was the punchline to a joke. Everything about him was familiar, though I’d never seen him before. I knew plenty like him from the Academy, with mouths too big and dicks too small, and trust funds large enough to make up for both. Typical Rex Madsens, the kinds of guys Alexis was supposed to date.

  When he threw Lex’s name into his conversation, I started paying attention. He knew her, obviously, and it sounded like he’d just suggested—

  “Who the fuck are you, dude?” The kid was looking right at me, giving me a full up and down with more hostility than seemed necessary. He flicked his too-coiffed hair to the side with a quick snap of his head.

  “Excuse me for a second,” I said to the girl standing behind me at the keg and handed her my untouched beer. She and her friend gave me plenty of space as they leaned their blonde heads together to whisper. Everyone in at least a five person radius was suddenly quiet. I stepped toward the kid. “Were you just talking about Alexis Morrow?”

  “What do you care?” He puffed out his sweater vest and I knew exactly where this conversation was headed. I was going to let it, too.

  I wanted him to keep talking so I said: “I’m on staff with her.”

  “Really. You work for that prick too? That’s interesting.” His smug smile told me he thought he was hysterical. I gritted my teeth and shrugged. While giving me another once over, he said, “So, have you boned her yet?”

  I shrugged again. “Not today.”

  “Okay, tell us this—think it’s worth sharing her mouth with every dick in the District?”

  “Is that why you keep staring at mine?”

  I wasn’t sure who punched who first.

  But I knew I hit him harder.

  Chapter Three

  Lainey

  The other thing about college: it went fast. Faster even than high school. In the time it took me to blink, we were a few weeks into the semester. So far I’d turned in all my assignments on time, joined a volleyball team, and was actually starting to feel like I had half a clue what I was doing. Except for one little thing: the morning I woke up and my first boy-related thoughts were about Jack, not Carter, I knew I was in trouble.

  But maybe it was the good kind of trouble, the kind I needed to get into.

  Classes were over for the day, and I was enjoying the crisp air and the miracle that was the street on which I lived. It was a tiny haven, tucked between the main campus buildings and the Charles river, lined on both sides with trees and old brownstones and with an actual castle at one end. A small one, but still. Autumn was officially invading the city and it was invigorating, blowing out the heat of summer and turning everyone’s cheeks a fresh pink. I called Amy as I reached the steps of my dorm.

  “I think I have a crush on my TA,” I blurted as soon as she answered. The truth was I didn’t think it, I knew I did. The way my heart beat faster and my palms got hot when I saw him at discussion today was a clear giveaway.

  “Hot! So spill. What’s he like?”

  “Hot,” I admitted, and she giggled.

  “Obviously.”

  I thought for a second. What was he like? “Different,” I finally said.

  After a pause, during whi
ch I knew she was thinking about exactly the difference I’d left unspoken, she replied, “Different is good, Lane. Different is good…and so’s hot. I mean, I wish I had a crushable TA. I’d even settle for a crushable lab partner, but noooo, I’ve got the vampire girl who never seems to sleep or see the sun. How about some details here? I’ve got some vicarious crushing to do.”

  After my rundown and her noises of approval, I added, “Hey, you want to come slum it on my side of the river tonight?”

  I heard her close her laptop with a snap, which told me the answer was already yes, like she’d just been waiting for me to ask. “Do I get to meet, Mr. H-O-T, aka Hot Older TA?”

  “No,” I laughed, “but that band you told me about, with the bass player and no shirt, they’ve got an eighteen plus show and I’ve got passes.” I pulled the passes out of my pocket and slid them back and forth against each other. A kid doing promotions had handed them to me on the way through campus and I’d taken them automatically. When I’d set them on the table in discussion and read the name, I realized not only had I heard of them, they were supposed to be good. Amy had too much free time too, so her new hobby was discovering indie bands.

  Her fingers made a metallic tapping on the computer’s cover. “Interesting. You know we wouldn’t be stuck with only eighteen plus shows if you’d just…”

  I interrupted her with a well-practiced sigh. “Ame, I’m not going to do that.” I preferred the stress of her trying to convince me to get a fake ID to the stress it would cause me actually trying to use one.

  “Lane, seriously, use some of your stacks of cash for fun. You could buy the best fake ever.”

  “Not only would I not know where to get one, I buy fun things all the time.”

  She laughed. “Your eighteenth century armoire is not fun.”

  “Yeah, but new shoes are…” I dangled it there, knowing what would tempt her. It was still plenty early to go shopping before the show.

  “Okay.” Her voice was serious, but I could tell she was grinning like she’d just won an argument. “Provided you wear new shoes that are super sexy and I get to crash at your apartment, I’ll meet you at Copley in an hour. Bye.”

  She hung up before I even had time to agree.

  MY NEW SHOES were definitely sexy. Except it was October and my toes were freezing, turning bluer and making me less sexy every minute we stood in line.

  “Stop fidgeting,” Amy scolded.

  “Says the girl in new boots. Warm, toe covering boots.” Not to mention the shot—or was it shots?—she’d done with my roommates before we left.

  She stuck her tongue out at me. “We’re almost in.”

  One of the two guys in front of us stage-whispered, “That’s what she said,” and his friend snickered. They glanced back at us again, and the one who’d been stealing looks at Amy’s cleavage since we’d stepped up behind them actually smiled. He wasn’t bad looking, except his eyes couldn’t find their way north of chin-level.

  Amy smiled back and leaned forward enough to distract him again before deliberately buttoning her coat. “Those,” she told him, “are reserved.”

  “Oh yeah?” He thought she was flirting with him, so he stepped away from his friend and closer to us. “How do I get on the list?”

  Amy’s grin grew wicked. “Be. Someone. Else,” she said, enunciating each word before she brushed past him up to the door. His friend had just gone in without him, leaving us next in line.

  “Hey!” the kid said, but the two bouncers were already putting us through, slapping a drink bracelet on Amy’s wrist and mine too. Obviously the guy had been too busy looking at Amy’s boobs to actually look at my license.

  “Nice show,” my bouncer said to Amy at the same time the other one said, “Enjoy the show.”

  Amy winked at them and flounced down the entry hall.

  Like the tunnel that led to it, the music hall was almost entirely black, except for the two giant pillars that flanked the stage, painted to resemble silver trees. It was a quirky place and I liked it; it felt intimate, as if you were in someone’s basement with slightly better than average acoustics. An open floor led straight up to the stage, low enough that the band was right there. There was a mezzanine that ran around the room, with a second bar and a relaxed vibe away from the stage.

  The lower level bar across from the stage was busy, but we stepped right up to it in a lucky opening.

  “Ladies,” the bartender said with a practiced smile. “What can I get you?”

  Before I even had the chance to open my mouth, Amy was ordering a beer for both of us.

  “Ame…” I started, but the caps were already off and two bottles set on the bar. She paid for both and practically pushed mine into my hand.

  “Re. Lax. One drink with me, Lane. That’s all. Pretty please.” She batted her eyes and I laughed, taking an only partly reluctant sip. Amy’s enthusiasm was, as always, infectious. “That’s my girl!” She clinked her bottle with mine. “To new crushes and hot TAs.”

  “Cheers,” I said and we turned to survey the room.

  Naturally, leaning on the other end of the bar and talking to some friends was Jack Kensington.

  Recognition lit up his eyes when he saw us, and he gave me a not entirely subtle glance up and down. “Lainey!” he called and started in our direction.

  “No way,” I said under my breath. Of course he was here. I tried to hide the drink I hadn’t even wanted behind my back, since Jack definitely knew how old I was.

  Amy looked at my blushing face and back to Jack. Threading her arm through mine, she said, “Guess I know who that is. Nice, Heartbreaker. Very nice. And you thought I wouldn’t get to meet him.”

  “You do always seem to get what you want.”

  “Truth.” She tilted her head, appraising. “You know, he kind of reminds me of—” but before she finished, Jack had reached us.

  “Nice shoes,” he said, smiling like Prince Charming.

  “They’re new,” I replied stupidly. I could feel Amy’s grin lighting up the space next to me. Before I had the chance to get my brain working well enough to make the introduction, my TA-slash-crush was doing it for me.

  “Hi. I’m Jack.” He held out his hand.

  Amy took it in her free one that was still looped through my arm, pulling us all closer together. “Amy, Lainey’s best friend in the whole-wide world and, unfortunately,”—she paused here, giving Jack an even less subtle once over than he’d given me—“not single. Unless…?” She raised her eyebrows suggestively and he laughed.

  “Not single right now either,” he said, then added, “unfortunately.” He might have glanced at me when he said that last word and Amy definitely noticed.

  “Too bad,” she pouted, nudging me another step closer, until Jack’s arm was touching mine. “Who’s the lucky…guy?” Her eyes scanned the group he’d been standing with. They were all guys, but none looked like a clear contender for a boyfriend. Wishful thinking had completely blocked the possibility that he might have any kind of significant other, girl or boy, from my mind. Disappointment was just settling in my stomach when Jack laughed.

  “The lucky girl,” he said and, deliberately, put his arm around my shoulder, “is Lainey…” Amy beamed, and I stood there mute, stunned by his proclamation and his touch. Those disappointed feelings were being swarmed and devoured by an entirely different kind of butterflies, when he dropped his arm and continued, “…and about two hundred others in her Intro to Business that I TA for. Unfortunately, I’m dating my job right now.”

  Amy’s smile barely faltered. Though he’d taken his arm off my shoulders, it was still touching mine, and I knew she saw that. He could have, actually probably should have, moved away but didn’t. “Two hundred girlfriends is a big commitment, a lot of papers to grade. Your stamina must be excellent,” Amy purred and Jack laughed again, finally taking a step away from me.

  “I like you, Lainey’s best friend in the whole wide world. Do you guys have a spot? Com
e watch with us upstairs.” Amy immediately agreed for both of us and I followed them up to the mezzanine, still in a bit of a daze.

  Chapter Four

  Carter

  Did winning a fight qualify as trouble? That’s what I was thinking when I—finally—heard Alexis’s voice mixed with the rest of the shouting. Most of which was for me to kick his ass. Whoever this kid was, he was a known asshole.

  “What the hell?! Carter! Shit. MOVE!” I stood, breathing heavily, more from adrenaline than exertion. Lex grabbed my arm. “What’s going—” she started to say, before Asshole rocketed off the ground into me, taking Lex down with us.

  We landed in a hard tumble as the onlookers stepped cleanly out of the way. Alexis shrieked when we hit, a noise of pain and outrage. I turned to see her cradling her wrist as two girls helped her up. Which is when the kid got in one lucky shot, catching me right in the eye. My head rocked back, stars blooming. I just got my arm up to block his next swing.

  Lex was shouting and struggling, the same girls now holding her back.

  I shoved the kid over, rolling to the side to get him underneath me. He pushed back, but I was bigger, more sober, and stronger than him. I slammed my fist into his face with a wet thud that echoed in the crowded room.

  His head smacked the floor and stayed there, a nasally groan escaping him as blood spurted between his fingers. “I think you broke my fucking nose!”

  “I think you’re an asshole.” I stood and stepped back, trying not to flex my fingers and failing. It hurt punching someone in the face, even if he deserved it.

  “What the actual hell, Afton?!” Hell hath no fury like Alexis Morrow. “Carter?!”

  “Is his name seriously Afton?” I asked and at least one person in the crowd laughed. Not that my name wasn’t ridiculous, but Afton? Pretty sure it meant Asshole in some Celtic language. “Want to repeat what you were saying, Afton?”