Nu Alpha Omega

by H. Claire Taylor

  “Chemistry class,” Leslie said proudly. “We study together.”

  “Ah, okay.” She glanced at Brent, who was still staring at her. Maybe Brent wasn’t all that bright. Odds seemed high that studying together really meant stealing notes from Leslie. It didn’t take smarts to realize the girl was a doormat and great at science. In other words, the perfect tutor.

  “Do you live here?” Jessica asked. Why was she having to carry the conversation?

  “Yeah,” Brent said, like a goddamn orator. So he wasn’t into talking. Okay. Fine. Maybe Leslie had come out here for things that didn’t involve conversation.

  “He’s a Phi Kap,” Leslie added.

  “A what?”

  Brent laughed like she’d made a joke, but Leslie knew enough to know Jess was actually clueless. “Phi Upsilon Kappa. The fraternity.”

  “Oh, ha!” Jess said, understanding from the embarrassment on Leslie’s face that she should have already known this. “I misheard you. Yeah, I know what a—a Phi Kap is. Duh.”

  “Y’all want a drink?” Brent said.

  Of course they wanted a drink. So he led the way through the crowd to the makeshift wooden bar that may or may not have been built by a drunk Tim Burton wannabe. Jessica wasn’t sure how it stayed upright, meaning it fit perfectly with the drunks who surrounded it.

  Brent hollered to an inordinately gorgeous blond man behind the bar, who looked like he could be pushing thirty, and the man dipped a pitcher into a large vat of red liquid, pulled it out, and poured two glasses of said liquid—one for Leslie and one for Jessica.

  Jess looked down at her glass. The smell of alcohol was so strong, it made her eyes water. Am I supposed to drink this or pour it on weeds? This was what her sense of smell was for, why God had allowed that sense to evolve: to warn her that something was definitely poisonous before she put it in her body.

  And here she was ignoring millions of years of evolution.

  She tilted back the cup and drank the first sip, which tasted less like alcohol and more like Hawaiian Punch. Only after she swallowed did she think to ask what it was she’d just been given. Maybe Chris had been right to worry; she was a total rookie at this.

  “What is it?” she asked Leslie. When she realized Leslie was too busy talking to Brent, she turned to Mr. Stud, leaning over the bar so he would notice her. He leaned in, a half-smile on his face, and she asked, “What is it?” pointing to her cup.

  The other half of his mouth joined the smile party. “Trashcan punch.”

  She nodded. “Oh, okay.” Shit. Wasn’t that the one thing Rex had told her not to drink? She was pretty sure it was, but she couldn’t remember why.

  Oh geez, Jessica, maybe because you shouldn’t consume things from a trash can?

  “You wash that thing out before making the drinks?” she shouted at Mr. Stud.

  He chuckled, showing off his perfectly aligned and blindingly white teeth, and nodded at her before going back to his minimal bartending duties of pouring punch and handing it out to strangers.

  So he was a little dense. Well, it wouldn’t be fair to men if someone with his looks was also smart, she supposed.

  She turned her back to the bar and chugged half the cup, hoping it might allow her to at least stop shivering and at best be fun enough for someone to want to talk to her. She fought the urge to jump in on Leslie’s conversation with Brent, even as he began to look increasingly bored and scan the crowd over Leslie’s shoulder.

  “Not exciting enough for you?” a male voice said right into her ear. She whipped her head around to stare into the face of someone she’d never seen before. Or rather, to stare into the nose of someone she’d never seen before. It was hard to look past the nose to see the rest of him, especially at this close proximity. She took a step back from him and plastered on a smile. “Oh, it’s plenty exciting. I’m just taking it all in.”

  He nodded and leaned in close to speak above the music and into her ear. “I can tell you’re a deep thinker just looking at you.”

  Was that a line? His delivery led her to believe it was, but the actual words were strange as hell.

  “What’s your name?” he asked.

  “Jessica.”

  He nodded confidently. “I like that.”

  She tried not to let her confusion show. “Uh, thanks. Yours?”

  “Will. I’m a Phi Kap.”

  She smiled appeasingly. “Ah, cool.”

  “I like your toga.” He used the compliment as an excuse to lean back and let his eyes roam her body. “Modest girls are the hottest girls, you know.”

  Modest? He thought this was modest? Well, comparatively, sure. But that was definitely not her intent—

  Wait, did he just call me hot?

  She wracked her brain for a time when a stranger had called her hot and came up empty.

  Being called hot by a stranger, it turned out, was awesome. Granted, she wished it’d been a better looking stranger than Will—the bartender would have been ideal—but she’d take Will, gangly arms, big nose, and all. Not that she actually wanted him, but shit yeah she would take the compliments he dealt.

  So coming here was actually a good idea. She’d have to give credit where credit was due, next time she saw Dr. Lincoln or emailed Mrs. Thomas.

  He asked her something else over the loud music, snapping her attention back to him with the bluntness of what she thought he’d said.

  “Um, excuse me?” she asked. Had he noticed her staring at the plastic-wrap girl? Shit. That had to be it. That was the only explanation for his question.

  “Kant,” he said. “Do you like Kant?”

  “Ohhh … Um. I’m not sure.”

  “I just thought that since you’re a deep thinker, you might like Kant. Or Descartes. I have a bunch of cool books like that in my room upstairs if you want to me to show you.”

  “No thanks,” she said quickly, fighting the primal urge to flee as soon as he mentioned his bedroom. She thought of Chris and guilt reared its head for even spending as long as she had humoring Will.

  But when he muttered, “Fucking prude,” and stumbled off, she felt significantly less guilty.

  “Whaat?” boomed a deep male voice from nearby. When she searched around for the source, she noticed that others were doing the same, and when her eyes landed on the source and she saw said source staring right at her, her body froze. Maybe if she didn’t move, whoever this guy was would forget about her. Or maybe he was staring at something behind her. She glanced over her shoulder and saw Brent making out with a tiny Asian girl in a caution-tape toga/mummy wrap. That must be what the guy was shouting about. Phew. Close one. But where was Leslie, if Brent was making out with another girl? She should go check on her, wherever she—

  “Jessica fucking Christ! No fucking way!” the same voice shouted.

  Shitballs.

  She turned slowly back around, pressing her lips together into a strained smile. Who was this guy?

  Unfocused eyes followed him as he made his way toward her. To his credit, he took the toga theme as literally as she had, though he had gone all in with a Caesar crown, sandals, and a woven belt. He even looked like he could be half Greek with his dark, curly hair and olive skin, though she suspected that wasn’t specifically for the party.

  “This is fucking nuts!” he exclaimed, laughing so hard the rosiness on his cheeks began to spread to the bridge of his nose. She waited patiently to see where this was going, already prepared for it to go downhill in a hurry. “Best party ever!” he proclaimed, stopping just in front of her. “Danny.” He held out his hand. When she didn’t immediately take it, he added, “We have a class together. Intro to Philosophy.”

  “Oh shit,” she said, wondering if he’d been among those to leave the classroom on the first day.

  “Brent!” shouted Danny.

  When Brent didn’t break lips from the Asian girl who couldn’t have been wearing more of a red flag if she’d literally used a red flag as her toga, Danny reached
past Jess and grabbed his friend on the shoulder, pulling him free.

  “What is it, dude?” Brent asked.

  Danny motioned at Jessica. “You know who this is?”

  Brent appeared irritated. “Yeah, it’s Jessica.”

  Danny nodded a duh then replied. “Yeah. It’s Jessica Christ.”

  “McCloud,” Jessica corrected. “Jessica McCloud.”

  But Brent’s brain, slow as it may be, had begun firing now, and he stared at her with the familiar oh shit it’s the Christ Child expression she’d been waiting for when they first met.

  “You didn’t tell me you were …” but he couldn’t finish. That was fine by her.

  “Yeah, dude,” Danny continued. “This is the girl that made the entire class walk out on day one.”

  Jessica felt her face heat up, despite the cold. Well, at least her teeth weren’t chattering anymore. “Not the whole class.”

  Danny nodded respectfully. “True. Not the whole class. There were about twenty of us left.”

  Ah. So he had stayed. That was definitely a point in his favor, but she’d reserve judgement until she could definitely figure out what the crap he wanted from her.

  He turned to Brent. “What’d I tell you after class, man? I said, ‘There’s no way she can show her face in class again.’ Remember?”

  Brent nodded along, but his attention was already on another girl just over Danny’s right shoulder.

  Brent turned toward Jessica, and as her fight or flight response began to fade, she felt a warmth in his presence that she hadn’t expected to find in anyone at this party. “But then you came back the next day, and I was like, ‘Damn! That’s some gangster-ass shit right there!’ Zero fucks given. Hooooly shit.” He could hardly finish with how hard he was laughing.

  His laughter was contagious and she let herself chuckle along with him. “I guess so.”

  “Seriously, Jess. You’re my hero. Everyone around here cares so much about what everyone else thinks, that seeing you walk back into class again … I have to say,” he leaned in close, “it gave me a little hard-on.” He moved back and laughed, and she was just shocked enough to laugh, too.

  Who was this guy? Was he hitting on her, or did he just want to be her friend? He seemed like he’d make a cool friend, and that was why she was here, right? To meet new people and make new friends. She already had a boyfriend, so she didn’t need that, but a guy friend could be cool. She used to have so many when she played football, and it wasn’t until Danny that she realized there existed such a vacuum of male friendships in her life. Chris was really her only male friend at school now.

  Danny could be her friend.

  Though he had mentioned having a hard-on.

  Meh, it was probably nothing. Guys talked about their dicks all the time. At least he was being real and not sleazy like Will and his interest with Kant.

  Jess finished her drink.

  “I tell you what,” Danny said. “I don’t know that I even believe in God, but if you told me how to jump, I’d ask how high. You could be the Antichrist and I’d still admire the balls on you. You just fucking own it in class now. Have you noticed that?”

  Jessica tilted back her cup, forgetting it was empty. She glanced down into it and a half-second later, Danny’s hand brushed against hers as he took the cup from her, passed it off to the bartender and then returned it to her full. “But seriously, do you even realize how everyone tiptoes around you now?”

  “Uh, no. You mean more than usual?”

  “Nah. Like, just by showing up to class every day, you’ve become the goddamn alpha dog. You took the beating like a champ and now even Ms. Gershwin sneaks sideways glances for your approval when we talk about religion.”

  Jess chuckled. “Huh. I hadn’t noticed that.”

  “It’s true.” The admiration in his eyes as he stared down at her was unmistakable. “Here, I want to talk more, but not right by the speaker.”

  “Um, okay.”

  He grabbed her free hand and pulled her behind him through the crowd, and she kept her eyes glued to the back of his head to avoid looking at the inevitable stares that would follow her.

  I shouldn’t be doing this. I shouldn’t be holding his hand.

  Then Dr. Lincoln’s homework kicked in.

  Why do I feel like I shouldn’t hold his hand?

  Because I’ve only seen people hold hands when they’re dating.

  It’s just a hand, though. There’s no reason holding hands has to be intimate or sexual. I used to hold Mom’s hand. I used to hold Miranda’s hand. I held plenty of guys’ hands during our moments of silence before football games.

  So she allowed herself to relax and enjoy the small pleasure of Danny’s warm hand around her frosty fingers.

  They found a spot on a bench in the corner of the deck where the music wasn’t so overpowering and the icicle lights hardly illuminated. She could even see a few stars in the sky.

  “What’s it like?” he asked once they settled in.

  He stared intently at her, a small grin turning the corners of his lips as his eyes focused in on hers, like he was searching for something in them.

  She wasn’t sure why his intensity didn’t make her feel uncomfortable, but it didn’t. Instead it made her feel powerful. Or maybe she was just seeing herself through his eyes.

  “What’s what like?” she asked, meeting his gaze.

  “Having people know your name. What’s it like?”

  She felt the urge to laugh, but managed to hold it in. “Pretty awful, actually. They don’t even call me by the right one.”

  “Yeah, wow,” he breathed. “I can see that. But you come off as confident.”

  “Do I?”

  He nodded. “So do you mind if I ask?”

  She wondered what he was going to ask about, but then realized the obvious: Chris. Part of her hoped he wouldn’t, though. She didn’t want to talk about Chris right now. Surprisingly, she wanted to talk about herself.

  “Um, no, go ahead.” She gulped the trashcan sludge. She could hardly taste the alcohol in it anymore.

  “What does it mean to be God’s daughter?”

  She quickly shut her eyes to keep from spitting up the drink. What a strange way of phrasing the question. What does it mean?

  “I have no idea, actually.”

  Danny stared at her wide-eyed for a moment, then both of them cracked and began giggling. Man, it felt good. She couldn’t tell if talking with Danny was easy because it didn’t matter to him that she was important or that it mattered immensely to him that she was important or that she was drunk.

  “But like, do get messages from Him?” Danny persisted.

  “Yeah, or at least that’s what I’ve always assumed they were. But I don’t really want to talk about that right now, if that’s okay.”

  It wasn’t until Danny leaned back that she realized how close their faces had been. “Yeah, totally. We can talk about anything. I guess talking about God the first time you hang out is a little much.”

  “It happens,” she said, regretting that she’d turned him off of the one subject that made her so interesting to him. “More than you know, actually.”

  He nodded. “Yeah, I bet.” Leaning forward again, he asked, “Why’d you come back?”

  “Come back?”

  “Yeah, to class. Why didn’t you just drop it?”

  She considered making up some reason that he might find impressive, but even after however much alcohol was in one and three quarters cups of trashcan punch, she knew her limitations. She was a terrible liar. “My PR rep told me I had to.”

  His eyes lit up and his mouth fell open before he wrangled it in. “You have a PR rep. Ha! Of course you do.” He leaned closer. “You are absolutely fascinating, Jessica.”

  She felt a tickle run down her spine and she shivered.

  “You cold?” he asked. “We could go inside for a little bit.”

  She remembered Will’s offer of heading to his bedroom to c
heck out his Kant, and awareness jolted her. Danny was trying to get her to his bedroom, too, except in a more skillful way.

  Her aversion must have been evident in her expression, because he scooted away from her in a hurry and held up his hands defensively. “No, not like that. Sorry. I can see how that could seem sleazy. That’s not what I was getting at. You just seem cold. So it’s either more booze or heading inside.” He paused. “Or I could just go get you a jacket and bring it out here if you want.”

  “Oh, no, no. I didn’t think you were being a creep,” she lied, embarrassed for her assumption. Why would every guy suddenly want to bone her? That had never been a problem before. Who was she to start assuming it now? “How about another drink and we go inside for a little bit.”

  He laughed lightly. “Okay, if you insist. But I don’t want you to get a bad impression of me. I don’t put out on a first date; I’m not that kind of girl, okay?” He finished by lifting his jaw determinedly, but a grin snuck through.

  She chuckled lightly and relaxed.

  It wasn’t until she was waiting for Hunky McBartender to pour her third glass of punch that she realized Danny had used the words “first date.”

  But that was just for the joke. He was just a friendly guy.

  They found a spot on a long stuffed bench by the electric fireplace in the frat house’s living room. Metal beer signs, Greek banners, and framed records covered nearly every inch of the tall walls leading up to the vaulted ceiling. It was somewhat warmer by the electric fireplace and much brighter. Having all the lights on was no small comfort for the niggling feeling that she shouldn’t be sitting next to Danny, talking about personal things when Chris wasn’t around.

  But that was stupid! Surely Chris had female friends she didn’t know about. There had definitely been females in the bar with him in those pictures on Facebook.

  She could have guy friends. Chris had no right to be jealous … assuming, of course, that he was, which she did assume. She simply wouldn’t tell him about Danny. What he didn’t know couldn’t hurt him. She would make sure nothing happened with Danny, that he didn’t get the wrong idea, and then she would never mention any of it to Chris. Easy enough. And if Danny eventually became a good friend, she’d introduce the two, and surely they would bond over their mutual admiration for her, right?