19
Sam
It’s dusk, and I’m standing behind the Sigma Sigma house with at least a hundred people milling around me, and I’m praying, God, please don’t let me trip over my own dick.
Tonight’s the night of the Greek Life outreach event.
It’s hard to believe how quickly the time has gone, all those days and nights of preparation leading up to this, and somehow, it still feels like I’m not ready.But it’s happening, whether I’m ready or not.All I can do is try to stay out of my own way.It’s harder than it sounds.
The Sigma Sigma house is a redbrick colonial with white trim, and it’s well maintained.It ought to be for how much these guys pay for it.They can afford it, I guess—I can’t pick out which of the college bros around me are part of Sigma Sigma, but it doesn’t matter because all the Greek Life guys have the same look: preppy hair, preppy clothes, the kind of skin and muscles that tell you they have the money to take care of themselves.You notice that kind of thing when youdidn’thave it growing up.
When I got here, the backyard was nice—the flowerbeds kept up, and the lawn mowed, and no cans or bottles left out on the patio.But now, after Gray and I have spent the last four hours setting up the event, it looks great.The theme is purple because it’s a purple party, which is obvious, I guess, but there are purple streamers and purple balloons and purple tablecloths.Purple up-lights paint the walls and the trees, and a few purple floods add big, dramatic splashes.The stage for the acoustic set is over to one side, and yeah, there’s a bar because otherwise nobody from Greek Life would even come, but there’s also a photo booth, and there’s an art zone with crayons and colored pencils and even a couple of watercolor sets.Most of it, Mr.Vincent donated from the art supply shop, and I didn’t even have to tell Gran to put the moves on him, although she offered.There’s a pledge wall where people can write their personal pledge to stop intimate partner violence.There are tables with flyers and informational packets, where people from the college counseling center and from WISP are waiting to answer questions.And tucked away at the back, there’s a safe space with a couple of WISP’s trained staff.It’s there in case anybody gets triggered during the event, or they need somewhere quiet to be away from everybody else.That was my idea.Well, I found it online.
“Everything looks great,” Gray says as he joins me.
Helooks great.He’s dressed in a button-down and jeans, and he’s holding a drink that’s probably club soda.He puts his hand at the small of my back without seeming to think about it, and I don’t really think about it either.It feels good there.And I like when he touches me.
Ever since that night, something’s been different.Something between us.I know it’s corny.The guys I grew up with would have said I sounded gay.But ever since we made love, it’s like we’re connected somehow.I get this feeling sometimes that I could look over my shoulder and see him, even if he’s not anywhere nearby—and not in a creepy way.Or like I could close my eyes and point to him, no matter where he was.I can’t, of course.It’s just a feeling.I guess it’s hard to explain.
“You clean up nice too,” Gray says, and his fingers tickle their way up my spine.
I don’t know about nice—it’s only a polo and khakis, but they’re new, and Gray helped me pick them out, so that’s all right.And anyway, I’m focused on other stuff.
“Where’s the prop box?”I ask.
Gray cocks his head.
“The prop box.”I point to the photo booth.“You were bringing it from the car.”
“Oh.Right.Well, it’s kind of late—”
“It’s not that late.Go grab it.”
And I take his drink.
Gray tilts his head, but what he comes up with is a smile and a little salute.
He’s being a smartass, but I don’t have time to tell him so because that’s when I spot Robin trying to sneak away.
“Hey,” I say as I start across the lawn.“Those swag bags aren’t done yet, mister.”
Robin looks past me, probably trying to get Gray to help him.That’s all right, because it gives me enough time to catch him before he runs away, and I send him straight back to filling the swag bags.
And that’s not all of it.One of the frat guys is already drunk, and he gets tangled in the clothesline that I hung in the art zone.It’s got art done by survivors clipped to it, and it makes what Gran would call a visual statement.A couple of his friends help me get him untangled, and the guys are polite and help me rehang everything, but by the time we’re done, the band is freaking out because the bar won’t comp them any drinks, and I’ve got to take care of that.Then some little eighteen-year-old jerkoff is pretending one of the markers for the pledge wall is his penis, so I’ve got to talk to him.His eyes get real wide, and I’m still talking when someone takes my arm, and I don’t even have to look to know it’s Gray.
“Okay, babe,” he says, steering me away.“I think he got the point.”
“Tonight’s not a night for horsing around.”
“I know.And he knows, too.In fact, I think he’s heading straight to join a monastery or an eco-collective or the Marines.Good God, Sammy, his hair was standing on end.”
“His hair already looked like that,” I say.“And where are those props?”
But it turns out Graydidget the props, and people are already taking photos, and it does look like everyone’s having a good time.Gray even convinces me to have a beer, although by that point, my stomach is twisting around, so I don’t even taste it, and halfway through I stop because I don’t want to mess this next part up.
I’ve been checking the time on my phone every fifteen seconds for the last ten minutes, and now it’s finally one minute to seven.“Okay,” I say.
And Gray actually exhales and says, “Thank God.”
