by Alyssa Cole
Boots clomped up the steps behind me. “Ready to go?” Edwin asked.
“Not really, but I have class.”
He chuckled. “I appreciate that you’ll cut work and not class. I like a woman who chooses her acts of rebellion wisely.”
Even though a cold wind was blowing, I felt a sudden blast of warmth. We’re friends. He talks to all his friends this way, I told myself. I repeated that mantra even as he held my hand all the way back across the bridge, like it was nothing for us to be touching in that way.
I had to believe my thoughts were true. Now that we were getting to know each other, and not acquaintances forced into each other’s proximity, it was even more imperative that I didn’t get any crazy ideas about Edwin. Losing my heart and risking our newfound friendship were two risks I couldn’t afford to take.
Chapter Thirteen
I was sitting at a table in the common area on my floor, trying to figure out a ridiculous word problem. I’d signed up for Math for the Liberal Arts on a whim, not realizing the subtitle for the class should have read Ridiculously Circuitous Word Problems Written by a Sadistic Lit PhD Student. I could take a tough equation and break it down easily, but the paragraphs-long word salad problems were driving me up the wall.
“Are you coming to the mixer tonight?”
I looked up to find one of the girls who’d witnessed Devon’s down-on-bended-knee performance in the bathroom. She’d taped a paper with her name in glitter onto her door: Niesha. She twirled a braid around her finger as she waited for my response.
I slid my pencil into my sleeve to hide the bite marks I’d put there while puzzling over my assignment. “The meet-and-dance thing at the SAC? Yeah, I think I’ll stop by.”
“Cool.” She bit her lip and gave me a hesitant look. “Is your friend coming, by any chance?”
“Danielle? Probably.” I didn’t know Danielle’s sexual orientation, or rather whether she liked women as well as men, but Niesha was hot and if she was interested, I’d put in a good word for her.
Niesha laughed. “No, not her. The Spanish guy with the brown skin and the dimples and the nice ass.” She grasped her hands to her chest and sighed dramatically as she looked heavenward. This was good, because if she’d seen the expression that crossed my face, I would’ve had a new nickname floating around—”chick who was possessed by a demon when asked to hook a sister up.”
“Edwin?” My Edwin? Suddenly my joke about playing wing woman for him didn’t seem so funny.
“I think so.” Her eyes narrowed in contemplation. “It is okay, right? I mean, I assumed you and Devon were a thing after the bathroom kneeling and your little folk music parties.”
I hadn’t given much thought to what Devon coming to my room for a couple of hours every other night must’ve looked like to everyone else in the dorm. I was having fun, and maybe the sixteen-year-old in me was ready to take him back without hesitation, but in my mind we were just friends. Friends who serenaded each other every night. If Niesha thought we were more, what was Devon thinking?
“Playing Beyoncé on guitar does not render it folk music, okay?” Going after the guy I was crushing on was one thing; dissing my musical taste was something else entirely.
“I like folk music. Why would you think I didn’t?” She raised an eyebrow at me.
This was going downhill, fast.
“You seem more like an indie chick, but yes, we all contain multitudes. Devon isn’t my boyfriend, by the way.” I sighed and then conceded. “Neither is Edwin. He might show up tonight, but I’m not sure.”
She clapped. “Oh, great! I hope he comes. It’s slim pickings around here—well, everywhere now. He seems like a good guy, so I figured it wouldn’t hurt to ask.”
“Right.” It wouldn’t hurt her. I sized her up. She was attractive, self-assured, had curves where I didn’t and a personality that seemed to be fun and laid-back, whereas mine toggled between aggressive and awkward. Plus, she’d been conscientious enough to ask before she made a move on Edwin. I kind of wanted to date her myself, so it would be no surprise if he took her up on her offer.
She lingered in front of the table, expecting me to dish more on Edwin, but I shot a glance at my homework and then sighed.
“Okay. I’ll let you get to it. See you tonight!”
I stared at the worksheet in front of me after she left, but the words and numbers made even less sense. A chirping from the open door of my room let me know I had a message, which was also a convenient excuse to stop doing homework. I ran in and checked my phone.
Working at the farmer’s market and my dad’s rutabaga are killing it. Gabriel is doing a shift at the clinic. Want to video-chat about that weird, possible soul mate type situation tonight?—A
I responded quickly. I’m not sure about soul mates. Soul friends? I kind of like this other guy too. Why is this stuff so confusing? Can’t chat tonight, there is a party. I hope they play the cha-cha slide so I can show them my moves.
I should have known what she was going to reply. Soul friends with benefits would be better. ;) 3:)Who is the other guy? And why do you have to choose? (Don’t tell your bro I said that.)
I’m not even sure what to do with one penis, let alone two. I replied, and wished I hadn’t. I’d already had a very vivid dream about skinny-dipping in the lake with Devon and Edwin. Both of their hands running over my body had felt way too real, lingering for a moment after I’d awoken; if I wasn’t sure how to handle a threesome, my brain certainly had some suggestions.
Try some porn. It’ll hold you over until you decide which D is right for you. I was still processing that when another message came through. Oh, and I didn’t answer your question: this stuff is so hard because there has to be some way of finding the person who makes you feel at ease.
I laughed. Are you saying that things are easy with you and Gabe? I’ve seen your fights.
Not easy. Never easy. But so, so worth it. <3
I sent her dozens of hearts in return, wishing we could have this conversation in person. It kind of sucked that the period when we’d had unlimited time for girl talk was also when my love life had been nonexistent.
I put the phone down beside me and stared at the wall. Danielle was right—cinder-block was the worst. For the first time in weeks, I had nothing to do, besides the homework I was pretending didn’t exist. I opened the web browser on my phone, typed PORN into the search engine and looked around the room guiltily, as if someone could tell what I was doing. The loading cursor paused, and I held my breath expectantly, but instead of sweaty bodies, a warning that I’d lost my internet connection popped up.
Great. Even the internet is messing with my emotions.
I flopped back onto my bed and stared at the ceiling, grappling with an unfamiliar boredom. I’d always had someone to talk to at home; there, I’d had to hide from company instead of seeking it out. Even though I was in a dorm full of people, they were all still relative strangers. All except one. Before I knew it, my feet were carrying me to Devon’s room and I was knocking on his door. “It’s Maggie,” I announced.
There was a scrambling in the room, and when he opened the door his face lit up with pleased surprise. Seeing the way the smile changed his demeanor made me realize his default expression was usually a frown. “What’s up? I thought I wasn’t gonna see you until work tomorrow.”
Oh. What was up? I hadn’t thought about why I’d gone to see Devon. We’d spent plenty of time hanging out, but this was the first time I’d sought him out at his room instead of waiting for him to come to me.
“I was just passing by,” I said. His gaze edged toward the hallway’s dead end, which was right outside his door. Now I looked like a creep. “Passing by to see if you were going to the mixer, that is,” I recovered. “I heard they might have a karaoke competition, and that could be fun.”
<
br /> He grinned at me. “It could be, but I’m kind of persona non grata at the Student Activity Center. Remember, the whole supervisor-hating-me thing?”
“Right. I guess that could get kind of awkward,” I said. Unexpectedly, I was a little disappointed. Our hangout sessions had been fun, and the sixteen-year-old in me had always harbored a fantasy of going to a party with Devon. Was he a good dancer? Would he bring me little sandwiches and cups of punch? I reminded myself I could have found out the answers back when we were dating if he hadn’t lied about where he lived, but my anger wasn’t as intense as it had been a couple of weeks ago. I hadn’t forgiven him—I didn’t know if I ever could—but the more time we spent together, at work and in the dorm, the more I felt like I was getting the old Devon back. I told myself that wasn’t what I wanted or needed, but the lure of nostalgia was hard to resist.
“It would be like that time you had to share a hotel room at the archery competition with that girl whose super-expensive bow you stepped on and broke. I don’t want to deal with death glares all night.”
The distrust I was clinging to slipped a little further out of my grasp at his words. The broken bow. It was a silly story, something I wouldn’t be embarrassed about now, but he was the only one who knew it. Marisa was the only other person I’d told, and she was gone. It was such an intimate thing, having him recall my story as if it was part of his life experience too. We were tied together, even if he was also a stranger. I managed a chuckle around the bittersweet angst his ease with me stirred up.
“I don’t mind missing out, though,” he continued. “I have some environmental club stuff to handle. The guy who organizes everything lives over in Minetto, so I’m going to swing by his place.”
“Isn’t that a no-go zone for students? We’re supposed to stay within city limits.” Some areas were unsafe for habitation because of structural issues, high crime stats or some combination of the two. North Syracuse was closer to Falling Leaf, and thus the risk of getting caught up in either military or anti-military activity was higher than on campus. The school didn’t track our movements, but we were highly discouraged from going places that might require their intervention to get us out of.
“Greg isn’t a student here. And he says all these rules and regulations are just a front for corporations trying to carve out their own interests. People got by fine without them, right?”
“He sounds delightful.” He’d mentioned this guy before, and frankly, I wasn’t a fan. There was something about the admiration in Devon’s tone that irked me, bringing a welcome respite from the warmer feelings he’d just roused in me.
“What’s the big deal?” he asked, a command to chill out underlying his words.
“My brother has to travel into those no-go zones all the time for work. He’s had his life threatened by guys who think like your pal Greg, all because he’s trying to get the infrastructure back in place.”
“Your brother works for the government?” His eyes widened.
I rolled my eyes. “Yeah. So does your dad. So do most people at this point. Why is that a surprise?”
Devon’s brow scrunched up. “Did you come over here just to argue with me? Because we could have done that by video chat, and I wouldn’t have had to put pants on for that.” He gave me his endearing smile, and I took a deep breath and shook my head.
“Okay, sorry. I guess I’m just a little on edge.” I couldn’t tell him why. I couldn’t even explain to myself why Niesha’s request and Arden’s words made me feel so jumpy.
“You could always ditch the mixer and come with me. I think you might like the group. I only went for the free pizza, but they have some good stuff to say.” His smile was cute enough that I almost considered it, but then I thought about Danielle and her silly hat navigating the mixer alone. That and the fact that hanging out with a bunch of strange dudes far from campus wasn’t exactly appealing. The more he talked about these guys, the more they sounded like the fedoras I’d avoided on internet forums. The kind of guys always trying to prove their superiority in the smuggest way possible, who thought they were so smart that they were incapable of believing otherwise, even when you proved them wrong. I wondered why of all the people on campus, Devon would connect with guys like that.
“No, I’ll hang out here. I’d rather not end up shanked on the side of the road. Besides, I need to make some new friends, like you have.”
An odd expression crossed his face and then he shook his head and laughed. “Well, if you change your mind, let me know. Being with you makes me glad I came to this program. Seeing more of you wouldn’t hurt.”
My mouth formed a surprised circle and blood rushed to my cheeks. Being with you? What did that mean? “I’ve been having fun too,” I said, leaning back as he held on to the door frame and leaned forward. Was he going to try to kiss me again? More important—did I want him to?
His lips landed on my cheek, close enough to my ear that it sent a small zing of something good through my body. I stood there, unsure whether I should turn and catch his mouth with mine, just to keep the trembly feeling in my stomach going, but he pulled away and stared at me. I often wondered what Edwin was thinking when I looked at him, but with Devon it was crystal clear. He wanted more than that chaste kiss. Having someone look at me like that—was that what made all the BS worth it? Or was this just another layer of confusion for me to wade through? The corner of his mouth tipped up, as if he enjoyed seeing the confusion and desire I was sure were plainly expressed in my features. “Have fun tonight. I’ll be thinking of you.”
“You too!” I zipped back down the hallway, wondering if there was dust flying up behind me. If I had stayed behind, I wasn’t sure what my impulsive nature would get me into.
My phone chirped as I flopped onto my bed. I expected to see another message from Arden. Instead, Edwin’s name flashed on the screen. See you tonight!
I sighed, went into my room and picked through a pile of clothes. I needed to pick out my best wing woman costume.
Chapter Fourteen
The party was in full swing when I got there. The usually drab multipurpose room had undergone a makeover. Streamers hung everywhere, shaped into fun patterns that bordered on cheesy but weren’t. Someone who had a deft hand with the scissors had made little paper-cut art that hung from the ceiling, held aloft by fishing string. Balloons swayed along the edges of the room like wallflowers who wanted to dance but were too scared to bust the moves they’d practiced in front of their mirrors. A song that was popular just before the Flare bumped through the loudspeakers, and I bounced along in time as I wound my way through the crowd.
Because there was only one class, us “freshmen,” the staff was also invited. Even though there were lots of people I’d never seen before, the party space in the SAC was by no means crowded. There was a makeshift bar near the back where Larry, one of my co-workers on the maintenance crew, was bartending.
“Hey, Sing Seong!” He was the only person who called me this, and the only reason I allowed it was that I knew there was absolutely no ill will behind it. Larry was a nice guy, a real-life one; he was a little shorter than me, and a little rounder and way hairier. He always smiled at you like you were exactly the person he needed to see in that moment. Each encounter came with the little rush of happiness you got from making someone’s day.
“Hey, Larry. How did you get stuck with bar duty?” I looked at the selection of drinks lined up, some alcoholic, some not.
“My wife, Nicole, is a manager here. I’m helping out since she was worried about people getting plastered and rowdy. You know how it is.” In the aftermath of the Flare, a lot of people had turned to the bottle to help deal with their worlds crashing down around them. Gabriel once told me how Alcoholics Anonymous had become a mobilizing force in many post-Flare communities, as people searched for relief from their addiction and hope for the future. Someti
mes surviving wasn’t all it cracked up to be.
“Nicole is a lucky woman,” I said, batting my lashes at Larry playfully. His cheeks went rosy, and I immediately dropped the flirty mode. I was having enough issues in the love department—I didn’t need Nicole looking over and thinking I was trying to get a piece of her husband.
“What do you want to drink?” He waved his hand at the array of beverages in front of him. I gave a quick look around the room. Lots of people were drinking beers, even those who looked younger than me. Certain laws weren’t being so strictly enforced. I wasn’t a fan of beer, or drinking overall. I had wine or sake every now and then, but even small amounts left me with a headache and a raw stomach. The few times I’d gotten wasted after my blowout with Arden had left me feeling discombobulated for days.
“Maybe I’ll just have a ginger ale for now,” I said.
He raised his brows but didn’t peer-pressure me. “If you want, and only if you want, you can try a nip of this moonshine. Nicole and I make it ourselves from her great-great-great-great-grandmother’s speakeasy recipe.”
“I’ll have a little bit,” I said, not because I felt forced but because who could turn down something that sounded as badass as speakeasy moonshine? He poured me the tiniest portion into a shot glass, just a taste, and pushed it over with a pleased look on his face. I drank it down and for a moment I was sure Larry had taken over the position at the bar because he was a serial killer hell-bent on poisoning everyone. Fire spread over my tongue and down my throat. My eyes watered and a cough was ripped out of me.
“Good, right?” He was nodding happily at my theatrics as if it was the reaction he was hoping for. Larry Romatowski, secret sadist.
A hand dropped into the space between my shoulder blades, giving me a few light pats; I knew the warmth and the weight of it before I turned and coughed in Edwin’s face. He waved a hand in front of his nose. “Hitting the hard stuff, Mags? The night’s just begun.”
