Nate comes in from the living room and gives me a once over. “Anakin Skywalker, cool.”
Is everyone in this fraternity a nerd?
“Who are you?” I ask. He’s wearing eyeliner and his floppy hair is styled into an exaggerated side fringe.
“Gerard Way.”
I give him a blank stare.
“Three Cheers for Sweet Revenge-era,” he adds, like this is supposed to be helpful.
I nod. “Ah, cool.”
He goes to answer the door and when he comes back, he’s dragging his boyfriend in wearing a similar getup. Evan doesn’t look half as comfortable in eyeliner and the costume doesn’t work as well with his blond hair, but he’s giving it a good go.
Archer and Miles head in a few minutes later with a keg.Oh great, an entire keg of disgusting beer. At least tell me this one is alcoholic.
Ben leans in, the hem of his robe brushing against my leg.
“Don’t worry, I have something stashed away for later.”
Those cute blotches are all over his cheeks and he can’t maintain eye-contact. I wish he would just take me to this stash right now. How long is this party going to go on for?
I keep one eye on Chad and Jesse when the women start showing up. I did invite Joelle but she told me she’d rather stick needles in her eyes than go to a frat party.
“You’re really taking what I said to heart, aren’t you?” Ben says when he sees me watching my roommates like a hawk.
“What?”
“Your friends look harmless, and Nate already gave them the low-down about how to act around … women.”
I grin. So he told him about that?
“Come on.”
He nods toward the hallway and I follow. My stomach swoops at the thought of us hooking up, but I quickly push it away. No need to complicate the situation any further.
It’s been a while since I had sex, but that’s no excuse for acting like a rabid dog around my doubles partner.
Ben opens a door and pulls me inside. I’m instantly hit by the overpowering scent of laundry detergent. There’s a washing machine and dryer pushed against the wall.
Ben opens the top on one of the machines and leans in. I’m sure I saw a video like this once.Nope, definitely get that out of your head.
“Here,” he says, a grin splitting his face as he holds up two bottles.
“What is it? Beer?”
“Germanbeer. Do you recognize it?”
“No, but I’m not a connoisseur.”
“Oh? You sure acted like one at the last party.”
He flashes me a cheeky smile.
“I’m just a person with normal taste buds. You don’t need to be a beer expert to know that stuff tasted like piss.”
Ben snorts as he leans back against the dryer, or the washing machine. I’m not sure which one is which. They look different than the kind we keep in the kitchen back home.
