The memory receded, and Ethan took a deep breath. “So, still want to hook up across campus with me?” he said with a laugh.
“Yes.” Greg still wasn’t smiling.
Things had never been this serious between them, and Ethan didn’t know how to proceed. It wasn’t them.
“Tell me a story,” Ethan said.
“About?”
“Tell me a story about football.” He gestured to the stadium. “Have you ever gone to a game here?”
“Hell yeah. I painted my stomach sophomore year. I was the H in ‘GO WHITETAILS.’”
“I tried watching a football game once. I had no idea what was going on.”
“Were you in the stadium?”
“No. At home. There was nothing else on TV.”
“See. That was your big mistake,” Greg said. He inched the bucket closer to Ethan. Probably because it’d gotten much louder in the tent. “Games are best watched in person, not cooped up by yourself. You feed off the energy of the stands, of being surrounded by all these people. I used to go to games with my dad, and they were insane. I couldn’t see a damn thing, but I knew what was going on depending on my section’s reaction. I could tell how the team was doing based on the amount of swearing my dad did. It wasn’t just a game. It was an experience. You could go into that stadium and have no idea who any of the players are, but you’re part of a team and your hopes and dreams are in their grubby, massive hands.”
Ethan imagined Greg back at the game, looking up at his dad. This was the first time Greg had ever mentioned his dad to Ethan. He felt like he was glimpsing behind the curtain for just a second, seeing a part of Greg closed to the public. It was so rare when people let you see the private places within them, that you couldn’t take them for granted.
“You should try to experience a game in the stands,” Greg said.
And that’s when Ethan leaned forward slightly and placed his hand on Greg’s knee. He gave it a squeeze and kept it there. “Sounds like a good time,” he choked out over his own blinding fear.
“It was.” Greg didn’t move his knee. He didn’t move any part of him. He and Ethan exchanged a look that cut through all the small-talk and pleasantries and banter and other surface bullshit that made up the bulk of their lives.
“It’s time for a shot!” Lorna yelled.
Greg jumped up from his bucket just in time to receive a Jell-O shot from Lorna. Ethan retracted his hand and grabbed one for himself.
“On the count of three, go Whitetails!” she said. “One…two…”
Ethan tried to read Greg’s face, but he was already back to Fun Greg.
“Trés, motherfuckers!” Greg yelled.
They sucked down the shots. Greg returned to his frat’s tailgate shortly thereafter to play beer pong. He didn’t invite Ethan back with him.
“I can’t believe it,” Lorna said to Ethan once Greg left. She sounded more sober than her shots request led on. “That’s your Frat Guy.”
“I know. I’m pathetic.”
“What? Why?”
“I am totally into Greg. I made a move, and he jumped back.” The rejection weighed down Ethan. He never knew he could want someone, his whole heart yearning for someone, like he wanted Greg.
“Oh, trust me, Ethan. I may be drunk, but I’m not stupid.” She slapped an arm around his shoulder. “The feeling is mutual.”
CHAPTER Nineteen
The tailgate packed up shortly after kickoff. All that anticipation and excitement for an event that nobody cared about seeing. Ethan chugged a large glass of water after his impromptu conversation with Greg. He needed his brain to be in tip-top shape now. He needed to think.
Was Lorna right? She seemed like a girl who knew what she was talking about when it came to guys.
“Are you sure?” he asked her later as they walked back to the dorm.
