“Fine. I just ran into your roommate.”
Cyrus frowns, glancing behind me. “He’s a bit of a mess.”
“He’s a dick,” I say. “I can’t believe you put up with it.”
“I stopped sleeping in the room,” Cyrus says.
“How could you sleep with a carousel of girls coming and going?” I tighten my jaw like I can bar the raw ache from working its way to the surface. Why did I let my friends talk me into coming here tonight?
“Girls?” he repeats, shaking his head. “More like a perpetual happy hour without the happy part. I only stop by to make sure he hasn’t died of alcohol poisoning.”
“He said…” I blink a couple of times trying to process this new information. “He’s just sitting there, drinking?”
“Like a fish,” Cyrus confirms. “You were probably smart to drop him when you did. At this rate, he won’t make it past his first semester. He’s got to be failing all his classes. I feel bad for him, though. I thought maybe going out would help him get it out of his system. I didn’t know you would be here.”
Suddenly, I’m on information overload. It’s not like it’s my fault that Sterling is pouring his life away one drink at a time, but I can’t deny that this all started the night of my birthday. And worse than all of that is the tiny, wicked glimmer of satisfaction I feel learning that he’s a mess without me. I’m sure it makes me a terrible person, but still not as bad as he is.
“Come meet the guys,” Cyrus says.
I’m grateful for the distraction. I need to take a break from all of this, get it off my mind, and just relax. For the last two weeks, I’ve been zoning out and rewatching old television shows—the kind of stories where the guy and the girl always make up in the end. Maybe it’s past time to admit that’s just a fantasy. Reality is much uglier, and there’s no script heading things toward a happy ending.
Cyrus introduces me to the guys, who turn out to belong mostly to Beta Psi, the fraternity he pledged earlier this fall. They all say hello and return to their discussions about the football team’s chances in their upcoming game.
One of them, tall with sandy brown hair, edges closer to me. Leaning down, he confesses, “I know nothing about football. Don’t tell them.”
“I grew up in the South. I know too much about football,” I say with a laugh.
“Is that my problem?” he asks. “I mean, we have football in Vermont, but it’s not like this.”
“Vermont, huh? A hockey town?” I ask.
“Now you’re really emasculating me,” he teases. “I thought when I came here I would never have to fake hockey talk again.”
“Your secret is safe with me,” I assure him. “What are you into…?”
“Jeremy,” he reminds me.
“Sorry.” I glance at the ground, embarrassed to have forgotten his name already.
“That’s okay. You’d be a genius if you could keep all of us straight.” He tips his head toward the house. “Can I get you a drink?”
I think back to my earlier promise about being the designated driver and hesitate.
“It’s cool, if you don’t want to,” he says. “I just want to be hospitable.”
“Is this your place?” I ask.
“Yep. Me and a few guys decided the frat house was a bit too crowded. We can control parties a little easier here,” he confesses.
“I’d love to grab a drink,” I decide. I’ve learned my lesson about accepting drinks from anyone I don’t know, no matter how hospitable they are. But I’ve met Jeremy, and he knows Cyrus, who has been around since before I formed memories. Besides, I’ll watch him like a hawk.
We make it into the kitchen, and Jeremy butts in to the keg line to pour a beer from the tap. I watch him the whole time and grab it as soon as it’s out. This cup isn’t leaving my sight the rest of the night.
“Took that freshman orientation tip about watching your cup pretty seriously, huh?” he says with a laugh as we find a quiet spot by the door.
“Unfortunately, I learned that lesson the hard way,” I tell him.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” he says instantly. “That was a stupid joke.”
“It’s okay. I was lucky.” I curse inwardly at my choice of words. “I had friends there and made it home safely.”
“But you learned your lesson.”
“Yep.” I take a drink, realizing that the lesson I’d forgotten was that beer tastes gross. I smile at him over the rim of my Solo cup. “So, not into sports.”
“I’m more of a thinker. I’m going into engineering.”
“Cool.” I pray that this doesn’t trigger a conversation about engineering, because I know nothing about it and I’m interested even less.
“What are you majoring in?”
Well, that subject is nearly as bad. “Right now? Nothing. I took a semester off.”
“Right on.”
“I’m coming back in January, though,” I say quickly. “I think I’ll major in English.”
“Cool.”
I guess he doesn’t know much about my preferred field, either. We linger for a moment in awkward silence before a new song starts in the living room.
“Want to dance?” he asks, just as I spot Sterling’s brooding face behind him.
“Yes!” I abandon my beer on the counter and grab his hand.
I drag Jeremy toward the unofficial dance floor. So, it’s not my finest moment, but a girl can’t be held accountable when the guy who broke her heart is a few feet away, especially if said heart is still in pieces. Plus, Jeremy seems like a nice guy and I’m determined not to let Sterling’s presence ruin my night.
Jeremy suffers from the typical male problem of mistaking grinding for dancing, but since I want to make it clear I’m not waiting around on Sterling, it works out in the end. The crowded room is sticky from so many bodies being packed so tightly into the small space. After a few minutes, I feel Jeremy’s hands on
