“What are you doing?”
“Huh?”
Lorna leaned back and took a good look at him. Ethan bounced to the music, bobbing his head from side to side. He couldn’t help it. The beat overtook him, and he had to expound his nervous energy somehow.
Plus, it was fun.
Lorna joined in and grinded against him. Ethan went with it. He let the crowds and the sweat and the moving blue-and-red track lights carry him.
Once the song changed, Ethan stopped. “Okay, now let’s find some alcohol.”
Φ
Frats never put out the good stuff for parties. They got kegs to attract crowds, but they saved the top-shelf liquor and quality beer for each other. Thus, if you wanted a real drink rather than warmed-over keg crap, you had to know a guy in the frat. Luckily, Lorna did.
“Great. Sahil says he’s got Patrón. We can do tequila shots!” Lorna said, putting away her phone.
“I love tequila shots!”
“Have you ever had tequila shots?”
“No.”
Upstairs was much quieter. People hung out in rooms. It was like a VIP area, and Ethan felt a rush of cool.
Sahil hung out on an ugly mustard-yellow couch in his room with two girls, while another wasted frat brother sat on a beanbag chair.
“Hola!” Sahil greeted her with a hug.
Ethan’s stomach clenched up when he entered, but Greg wasn’t there. Maybe he was downstairs. He hoped they would naturally and casually bump into each other.Oh, this is your frat? What a small world!
Ethan and Lorna shared a desk chair. Lorna did all the talking, and Sahil handed him the shot and lime.
“Now hold out your arm,” she instructed.
“Which one?”
“The one that you don’t hold the shot glass with.”
“Um, that was a lot of words. I’m confused.”
Lorna yanked his right arm and dabbed salt. He had an open wound (a paper cut) and yelped in pain.
“What are you doing?” he asked.
“Do you know how to do a tequila shot? Like have you ever seen one being done?”
He whipped his head from side to side, letting wisps of blond shuffle in front of his eyes.
Lorna went through the instructions, and Ethan wished he had a notepad. He didn’t understand why drinking had to be so complicated.
“So remember. Lick the salt, take the shot, suck on the lime.” Lorna spoke slowly. She would make a good teacher, he thought.
“Lick it. Take it. Suck it. Got it.”
“Ready? On the count of three. One…two…three!”
Ethan licked, took, and sucked. The shot was a bipolar rush of taste, but the three parts combined made everything go down fairly smooth. The tequila seared a hole in his stomach. He could feel himself rise two notches on the drunk scale. He sucked on the lime like a pacifier until the taste subsided.
