I weave through the throng of bodies and push through a swinging door. While not as crowded or as loud, this impressive kitchen area is not what I want either. But I spy a door on the other side.
Politely mumbling my apologies while dodging intoxicated females who want to feel my biceps, I make my way around students and stainless-steel counters, declining offers of questionable food and drink as I do.
“Thank you, but no thank you,” I repeat with a tight smile, waving away brownies that are likely laced with recreational drugs.
Just when I think I’m in the clear, I’m thwarted again.
A group of cosplayers stop me to ask about the historical accuracy of their togas. I quickly answer with“close enough”anduse the opportunity to casually throw out the undergarment in my pocket before washing my hands at the kitchen sink.
More questions are asked and I give more polite answers that are to the best of my knowledge yet concise enough to indicate that I have somewhere else to be.
More apologies.
Pardons. Excuses.
Free again.
When I finally reach the opposite side of the house’s industrial kitchen, I’m relieved.
New door. New room.
Thank God.
CHAPTER TWO
ASTERIOS
“Come in, Professor. We are just talking about ancient history and mythology,” a frat brother declares, standing with five others around a table of snacks that, strangely, look safe to eat.
“No,” another male counters, sliding glasses up the bridge of his nose. “We’re talking about science.”
“Actually, this would fall under paranormal studies,” a third chimes in.
The first two scoff while the remaining minotaurs snicker.
Interesting.“May I join the conversation?” I ask.
They all erupt into an affirmative chorus. “We’d be honored.”
I close the door behind me, glad that the barrier can affectively mute the revelry. I join the six of them. Four males, two females. One of the frat brothers offers me a bottle of water before introducing himself and his friends.
“Ladies first.” He winks at the females. “Ms. Platinum is Boann, International Business. Ms. Ebony is Euboia, Ancient History.”
I nod. “Pleasure.”
Both females smile, and one even offers a quick wave.
“Mr. Science here is Daman, Quantum Physics.” The frat brother tips his head in the other direction. “Mr. Mythology is Byron, Journalism and Modern Literature. He likes to read and write— a lot.”
I shake Daman’s hand first. “Impressive,” I offer, acknowledging the difficultly of his chosen science major.
“Thanks.”
When I shake Byron’s hand, I ask, “Double major or dual degrees?”
“Dual,” he replies.
“Also impressive.”
