Chris harrumphs as he watches me eye the exchange. “Good to see you might actually make use of your dick this semester. Also, it amazes me that we finally have the perfect spot to throw parties, and all of a sudden, the house is off-limits.”
“The microwaved plate of dog shit on Halloween ended any chance of another party. And you pay little to no rent, so stop your bitching,” I quip.
“Even so, what guy doesn’t like parties?”
I thumb my chest, my eyes drifting back to Whitney. “This guy.”
“Whatever, man, you used to be a lot more fun.”
I can’t deny, I probably was, but I gave myself a lot more leash back then. I’m over sleep deprivation, day-long hangovers, and worrying about my temperament or what a blackout might cost me.
“Eight months left to graduation, and you’re already tapping out.” He unleashes the keg and pours out two glasses of foam as a crowd starts to form around us.
“Over this conversation, too,” I drawl in irritation, my eyes plastered to the elusive blonde who stood me up for coffee. At first, I couldn’t wrap my head around it. The chemistry was definitely there. I just assumed there was a good excuse for her not showing, and I would catch her again in the hallway to get an explanation. The more I watch her, the more I start to think it was intentional.
I feel like an idiot believing otherwise. Without thinking it through, I make my way toward her, catching some of her conversation as I approach.
“Stop being such a wuss, and just do it once because I’m not dragging your drunk ass home again. You need to learn to handle your alcohol, woman.”
“I have a mother, and I left her in Nashville,” devil girl replies. “And I swear to God, every time you drink, you sound like her.”
“Well, every time you drink, you sound like this, ‘Oh my glod, Whitbey.’” Chuckling at her spot-on impression, I step up to them just as Whitney notices me, and her eyes fly to mine.
“I have to admit,” I say to devil girl, “she nailed it.”
Devil girl’s eyes roll over me and widen before I turn to Whitney, whose eyes do the same, which only further fucks with me as she speaks up. “Hi.”
“Hi. You stood me up.”
“I never said I was coming,” she muses.
“Hi,” the devil interjects. “Who in the hell are you?”
“I’m the guy whose bathroom you decorated on Halloween.”
The devil has the decency to look remorseful. “You’re naked guy?”
“Eli,” I introduce myself with the lift of my chin.
“Elizabeth,” the devil replies.
Whitney sighs and rolls her eyes. “Her name is not Elizabeth. That’s her alias for bad behavior.”
“Fine, I’m Alyssa.” Her eyes again roll down me, and Whitney takes note. “Wait, you’re Eli Welch. You won division last year in track.”
“That’s right.”
“Then you quit.”
“Yeah, wasn’t feeling it this year.”
The devil grins, and I don’t like the look of it. “I’ve heard of you.”
“Have you? Is it a good thing, or should I create an alias, too?”
Alyssa seems to mull it over. “Wouldn’t be a bad idea.”
“That so?” I lean in. “And what exactly are they saying about me?”
She tosses a warning look at Whitney, who’s focused on me. Alyssa is cute, brunette, tall, glasses that work on her, full lips, but it’s the girl beside her that I zero in on.
“I don’t really think that matters at the moment,” Alyssa says, looking between us before she grabs the empty Solo cup from Whitney’s hands. “I’ll go get us more beers.”
“The keg is right behind you,” Whitney says, her focus on me.
“Yeah, gross, everyone’s been slurping off the nozzle.”
“I knew you’d chicken out,” Whitney calls after her as Alyssa shoots her the bird. Whitney grins and turns back to me.
“You wouldn’t know it by watching us, but we’ve been best friends since middle school. That girl needs tough love. She’s got to learn to take risks.” She runs her hands up and down her arms.
“Cold?”
“Yeah.”
“I’d offer you a jacket or a hoodie, but it seems you’ve already got one.”
She glances down, stretching the material out in front of her with no shame. “Like it?”
“Looks familiar.”