“Yeah. I was just wondering if Nate would try to give me another lecture about going into rooms I haven’t been invited into.”
“I won’t tell if you don’t.”
He’s blushing.
“You still haven’t told me why you’re in here?”
“I just.…” he gestures to the party outside.
“Needed to escape?”
He squares his shoulders. “I’m the vice president of a fraternity and captain of the tennis team.”
I nod, waiting for the point. When one doesn’t come, I ask, “And?”
Ben slouches into a wingback chair, his half-empty cup of ‘beer’ almost spilling between his legs. “And I shouldn’t be hiding out at parties. I should be …” He makes air quotes with one hand. “Mingling.”
I laugh. God, he’s being ridiculous right now. And strangely cute. Is he ‘placebo-effect-drunk?’
No, Elias, he is your competition. It doesn’t matter if he’s cute.
“Well.…” I push off the desk and step around him to study a book next to his head. He won’t look up at me. Just keeps swirling his watery beer around in the cup and looking forlorn.
He’s wearing some incredibly stuffy blazer and a pair of suit trousers with a stiff, white shirt. He looks like he’s about to go to work in a bank, not like a college guy at a party. Is this what all Ivy League fraternity men dress like? Constantly in preparation for the world they’re about to rule?
He slouches back in the huge chair and his trousers tighten around his crotch. I look away.
“What’s so bad about the party, anyway?”
“Oh, nothing.” Ben sighs. “It’s just that Nate keeps trying to set me up with …” he stops abruptly before looking up at me with those big eyes. “Guys.”
I swallow. It’s audible in the quiet space but Ben makes no sign of having heard.
“And what? You don’t like guys?”
“No, I do.”
I swallow. I knew that from the way he looked at Nate, but him saying it confirms that he’s also out. Are these guys in the gayest fraternity in the world? If I’d have known things like that existed, I might have come to college years ago.
“So, what’s the problem?”
I think I know what the problem is. But I’d like to hear him say it. Or watch him lie.
He mumbles something unintelligible.
“Why don’t you just tell Nate you don’t want to be set up?”
“Tried that.”
I snort. How hypocritical. The guy who just gave us a lecture about consent can’t take no for an answer.
Ben sees the judgement on my face because he rushes to explain. “He’s just trying to be a good friend.”
“He must be oblivious if he can’t see … that it’s making you uncomfortable.”
“It’s not …” Ben squirms in the chair. “It isn’t making me uncomfortable. I’d just rather not date anyone right now.”
“Why not?”
