I ducked into the common bathroom to check my makeup one more time before heading downstairs.
I stood at the mirror. I knew I was stalling. Maybe if I waited long enough, Trevor would leave, so I wouldn’t have to deal with my decision. So I could go back into my room and lock the door and act like I hadn’t even thought about going in the first place.
One of the girls who lived on my floor stood next to me. I think her name was Jen. She had a roommate named Marni. I knew because their door still had the cutout construction-paper letters that spelled their names the RA put up the day we moved in. I’d ripped mine off and tossed them as soon as my parents left.
If people wanted to know my name, they could ask me.
Not that anyone besides Trevor had.
Jen was short, squat, had a gymnast’s body—all muscle and spit.
“Where’s your shadow?” she asked, wiping something from the side of her eye.
“Huh?” I turned to her. I was surprised she’d noticed me enough to see I had a shadow, though I knew she was talking about Joe.
“Your boyfriend,” she said, confirming it.
“I’m in the girls’ bathroom,” I said. Even if he was “my shadow,” there were rules, and also, sick.
She shrugged. “He’s usually around somewhere.”
“I guess,” I said, knowing she was right.
“You meet him here?” she asked
“Home,” I said. “We know each other from home.” Even though I hadn’t been back to visit yet, it was home. I also knew that description did not in the least do justice to the way Joe and I knew each other. Joe knew all my secrets, and I knew all of his. Maybe that was part of what was starting to scare me.
“He’s cute, even if he is always around,” Jen said, reaching into her pocket for lip gloss and slathering it on. It made her look like she’d just eaten a steak, sort of greasy.
“Thanks,” I said, in that way you say it when you really want to say, screw you.
“I don’t mean anything by it,” she said. “I would kill for a shadow, you know?”
“Sure,” I said. There was my proof. I should have just left the bathroom and gone back to my room and waited for Joe. I should have called him right then and told him, forget about moving in, I would marry him. I would have his honest, smart babies. People would kill for him, for his attention. What was I doing?
Figuring out if I wanted him to be my shadow?
If I wanted to be his sun?
Of course, I knew that being someone’s shadow all depended on how you were looking at it; I clung to Joe just as much, if not more, than he did to me.
Maybe he was my sun.
When I got downstairs, Trevor was leaning against the front of the dorm, his legs crossed at the ankles, one black leather boot on top of the other. “Did you have second thoughts or something?” he asked.
“What?”
“It took you long enough to get down here,” he said, looking at his phone to let me know he had been timing me. The part of my brain that kept track of things like that lit up at the realization that he had been waiting for me.
“I had to stop in the bathroom,” I said and immediately regretted it. You didn’t want any guy, whether you were trying your best to pretend you didn’t like him or not, to picture you on the toilet. “To brush my teeth,” I added quickly.
“Fresh breath is important,” he said, getting close enough to my face that I could smell his—smoke and alcohol.
I stepped back. “So no hat, huh?” Regardless of my bathroom slip, I felt a lot more comfortable with my face fully made up and us in the dark. It could have also been that he had waited for me.
“It’s back in my room. Hopefully I’ll get to put it on for you later,” he said, stepping closer to me, “and then take it off for you.”
“Where is the party?” I asked. I couldn’t even begin to let myself think about what he’d just said, even though my face and stomach filled with waves of heat—the two of us in his room later. Alone. Him in just his hat.
“I don’t know; some dude’s house.” He pulled a flask out of his pocket. “You want any?” he asked, the metal shining in the dorm’s porch light.
“No thanks,” I said, passing my first test, though I doubted I would do so well when a red plastic cup was shoved in my face. Hard liquor made it easy to say no. A cold beer with foam like a rolling waterfall would be harder, especially when a red plastic cup was sometimes the only thing that reminded you that you were where you were supposed to be.
“More for me.” Trevor shrugged, taking a long drink and pretending to wipe his mouth to keep from hacking it back up.
I recognized Trevor as the kind of tough guy who wanted you to know he was tough. It usually meant he wasn’t very tough on the inside. It usually meant there was something he was hiding.
I knew this from my attempts to be a tough girl.
“Let’s go.” He started down the porch. His blond hair shone like the flask had in the porch light, then went out like a spent match as he stepped off.
“I thought your friends were coming with us,” I said, feeling my pulse start to beat in my neck. Not that he’d said anything like that, but I had assumed. I had used it to quiet my bullshit meter. A group of kids going to a party together was one thing. Just the two of us was a date.
I had a boyfriend. I couldn’t go on a date. It was bad enough I’d accepted Trevor’s invitation at all.
“You want someone else to come with us?” he asked, cocking his head like he was surprised.
I did—preferably twenty nuns who could stand between us the whole night and slap me with rulers if I got too close. But I was already down here, already dressed. I’d already said yes.
We walked away from the dorm toward the quad. I felt like I needed to say something. I needed to fill our silence, and it needed to be with talk. It could not be filled with anything else.
I noticed immediately that silence with Trevor wasn’t the warm, flowing thing it was between Joe and me. With Joe it seemed like we were under bathwater together floating with no one else near us; with Trevor it was like a pot of boiling water that I was trying desperately to keep from bubbling over.
“I’ll take some of that flask now,” I said.
“Doing your best to ignore your bad deeds, huh?” Trevor asked, focusing his eyes on mine and holding them there, creating parallel lines of fiery want between us. “Bad girl.”
“Oh, now you think I’m bad,” I said. I couldn’t help but smile.
“I think you’re whatever you want to be,” he said, swinging the flask back and forth.
“Right now, I want to be drunk,” I said.
“Good choice.” He handed the flask to me.
I took a drink, tentative at first.
“Chug. Chug. Chug,” he chanted. “You got a lot of catching up to do, bad girl.”
I took three long swigs, didn’t think about anything but liquor hitting lips. Hoping that each shot would make the steps I was taking come easier, would help me forget that I was actually walking with this other boy, talking with this other boy, flirting with this other boy, this other boy who was not Joe.
Joe.
…
JOE
I turned to Steve so I didn’t have to look at the perky boobs staring me in the face like just-Botoxed eyes. Amy had great breasts, too, don’t get me wrong, but these were different breasts. New ones I was invited to stare at, to visit with. To dance next to, I guess.
But I just kept staring at Steve, at his teeth that in the dim light of the basement seemed to glow as if he were lit on the inside like a jack-o’-lantern.
“Wow, it’s crazy down here,” I said. I was squinting as I scanned back to the thin girl’s boobs, like I was literally staring into two headlights.
“You have your pick of the litter,” he said, his lips quivering over his big, big teeth and trying to stifle a laugh. “But I think Legs has a thing for you.”
“I have a
girlfriend,” I said, almost like I was trying to remind myself.
“I won’t tell,” he whispered. “What happens at TKE stays at TKE. Like Vegas but you don’t lose your shirt.” He put his hand to the side of his mouth like he was about to tell me a secret. “As long as you’re not a girl, anyway.”
“I think I’d like to meet some of the other frat brothers,” I said, even though I knew that was a one-way ticket to the reject pile. I knew if I spent much more time in this basement, joining a frat would be the least of the things I might do that Amy would be pissed about.
“They are not at all as interesting as what is going on in this basement,” Steve said, seeming like he was trying to frown but his lips wouldn’t fit. He slapped my back. “I brought you down here for a reason, Joe. Don’t make me regret it.”
He walked away from me and chuckled as he took the vase-shaped girl around the waist. He pulled her close, twirled her around, and dipped her. She screamed that girl-scream they do when they’re acting like they are scared but really are having fun.
The thin girl with the perky boobs looked around like she didn’t know what to do. I felt bad for her, but I knew I couldn’t walk over even if that was why Steve had brought me down here. There was no way I could dance with her with her boobs out like that. There was no way I could dance with her even without Amy. The way my hands were shaking, if I took her into my arms, she was liable to get a concussion.
I sat on the cement stairs and looked down. I was already under suspicion from Steve. If I went back upstairs, there was no way in hell this frat would let me in. What kind of guy ran away from half-naked girls?
If I went back upstairs, this would be over. I couldn’t go back upstairs.
The thin girl walked up and sat next to me on the step. Far enough away so our legs weren’t touching. She pulled her blond hair on top of her chest. It flashed on and off in the strobe light.
I could feel her next to me. The hairs on my arms and the back of my neck seemed to pulsate with each beat of my heart, which was pounding like a jackhammer in my chest.
This girl made me nervous.
“I’m supposed to come over and talk to you,” she said, looking at her bare knees—as small and smooth as her breasts.
“Who says?” I asked, trying to play it cool but fearing I was failing miserably.
“Deanna,” she said, indicating the vase-shaped girl; she and Steve had moved from flirtatious dance to heavy make-out. He had a hand on each of her boobs like they would fall off if he let go.
“I doubt she’d notice,” I said, looking at my own knees. My pants were wrinkled. Not that I usually cared because I usually didn’t stare at my knees or iron my pants, but I noticed it now because her skin next to me was so smooth by comparison.
“You don’t want me to talk to you?” she asked, her brown eyes big like the bottom end of two Hershey’s kisses, melted and dabbed on her face. She might have seemed timid from across the room, but once she got next to me that changed. Apparently she realized she didn’t have to be.
“I have a girlfriend,” I said again, which let me know it had less to do with telling other people and more to do with reminding myself.
She looked around the basement. “Is she here?”
“She would never be here,” I said. “She hates frats.”
The girl looked at me like it didn’t compute. I understood. It didn’t really compute with me, either, but it was also one of the things I loved about Amy. She did what she wanted, at least when it came to me.
“Is she a loser?” the girl asked.
“No, she’s just—” I paused. “Different.”
“That’s a nice way of saying loser,” she said, still looking at me with those eyes, sizing me up. She thought my girlfriend was a loser, so I was a loser. I didn’t care. I didn’t need to prove anything to her.
“Dancing around with a guy’s wet undershirt on is very cool,” I said sarcastically.
“Hey, no one down here seems to be complaining,” she said.
I didn’t respond. She was right. I wasn’t complaining.
“My name’s Emily,” she said.
“Joe,” I said.
“I may be stupid enough to dance around in a wet T-shirt,” she joked, “but I can read your name tag.” She flicked it the same way Steve had. The difference was her touch made the heart that it covered race yet again. She was a half-naked girl touching me. Girlfriend or no girlfriend, I was a guy.
“Why are you dancing around in a wet T-shirt?” I asked, leaving out and your underwear, because there was no way I could pull off talking to some girl I barely knew about her underwear.
“Sometimes you do things you don’t want to do to get what you want, you know?”
I did know, but I hoped my thing wouldn’t involve being naked. “You can put your real shirt back on if you want,” I said.
“I didn’t take it off for you,” she responded.
I looked around the basement for a pile of clothes. “You don’t know where it is, do you?”
“Why aren’t you drinking?” she asked, not wanting to answer, which let me know I was right.
“You got a beer on you?” I joked. I would have taken it then. Wouldn’t have really cared if she saw my hand shake as I drank it—turned it into a fizzy, frothy milkshake as I tried to swallow it down. I wanted to do anything other than try not to look at her bare thighs, as pale as sunlight.
“Now that would be a trick,” Emily said.
“I feel like I should be talking to some of the frat brothers or something,” I said, trying on her what hadn’t worked on Steve.
“They don’t want to talk to you,” she said. “They want you to look good and be willing to do what they say and keep your mouth shut.”
I thought about Amy. It was weird, but a lot of times I felt like that was what I expected from her. Aside from the mouth-shut part. But really it was because it was what was best for her. I just wanted her to make the right decisions to keep her safe.
“How long do you think I have to stay down here?” I asked, grabbing my phone from my back pocket. I kind of thought I’d find a text from Amy, but considering I’d lied to her, it wasn’t like I deserved it. Considering I’d asked her to move in with me like a scared little boy and she’d sucked down into herself like a turtle, it’s not like I expected it.
“It’s not seven minutes in heaven,” Emily said. “You’re free to go, but you have to think about how that will look.”
She was right, so I sat there. It was nice to blame it on not wanting to look bad in front of Steve or the other brothers, but I couldn’t ignore how the smell of vanilla coming from her hair was making me dizzy.
“Anyway, we’re in this together for the next few hours. Unless you’d rather I find someone else,” she said, her hands on her knees.
I looked around the basement at the other guys down there. Guys who it was clear would probably do things to Emily that she really wouldn’t want to do, but that she would do because sometimes you did things you didn’t want to do to get what you wanted.
If she kept talking to me, it was going to be hard not to turn into one of those guys.
Chapter Four
AMY
I might have felt uneasy around Trevor, but I was less so when we got to the party. We stood in the street, staring at the house. It was one of those off-campus places where people lived when they didn’t live in the dorms anymore—where I would have already agreed to move with Joe next semester if I hadn’t been such a jerk.
Kids, music, and light were seemingly bulging out of the house like worms from a rotten apple. It didn’t look much different from a high school party. Except the house was way shittier, there were way more people, and at least half of them could legally drink.
“The party,” Trevor said, and sort of bowed. His hair fell in his face.
It was the first thing either of us had said in minutes. Maybe he felt like he needed to say something. Felt like he needed to remi
nd me that I had agreed to come here with him, even if the way I was acting might indicate second thoughts.
And third and fourth and fifth thoughts.
I continued to look up at the house. There were so many people inside it appeared to be bursting at the seams—a pair of pants that someone definitely had to unbutton when he sat down. I was standing as far away from Trevor as I could and still be able to claim we were indeed together. If he had to push me out of the way of an oncoming car, it was unlikely he would make it in time. I would be car guts.
Served me right.
“Looks fun,” I said, wishing I could stuff the words back down. Most of the reason I hadn’t spoken on our walk, aside from being stuck in the mud of the guilt swamp in my own head, was because I said stupid shit a lot.
Later, I always thought about smart shit to say, but when I was talking it was like my mouth was several IQ points lower than my brain—a stupid sibling that everyone hoped would marry rich.
I know college was supposed to make me feel more confident and independent—at least that was what everyone said—but I’m pretty sure I hadn’t been here long enough for any of that to take. I also couldn’t help but wonder if maybe it would never take.
Trevor didn’t respond, just watched me like his eyes had X-ray vision. Like seeing me naked wasn’t good enough; he wanted to see my bones, too, the particles that made up my bones.
But I mean, how should he have responded? Golly gee, I sure hope it is fun. I love fun parties.
He was probably too busy having a conversation in his head that was no doubt eerily similar to the one in mine, the one asking, What the hell am I doing here?
He continued to watch me like I was a match he couldn’t light. I was disappointing him. I could tell.
The thing is that it was good I was disappointing him. It was when I stopped that I would have to be worried.
We walked in, the music so loud I could feel it in my throat. The kind of thumping house music they played at bars. Too loud to have a real conversation so instead you just keep drinking and end up leaving with someone so you can “talk” and end up not talking at all.
The Next Forever Page 3
