“Beerpong, relay, dizzybat, boozeball, thunderstruck, all the classics. You know any Russian drinking games we could add?”
She stares at him, mystified. “I… don’t know what most of those are.”
“You wanna find out? Party at Rho-House tonight.”
She hisses in my ear, “I don’t know what that means.”
“Frat party. You should go.” If anyone deserves to get wasted off beer and sticky juice cocktails, its Alex. “You’ll watch out for her, yeah?”
“Leroy is on drunk duty. So, she'll be in perfect hands.”
Alex perks up. “The cute Devil hockey player?”
Terrence grins. “I think you mean, the major hottie two way forward? And yes, he’ll be there Rod, you in?”
“Pass.”
“Had to offer.” He gets up and offers me a hand, yanking me up off the floor followed by a stiff but good-natured slap on the back.
I return the gesture with a tap on his shoulder. “No more secrets between us?”
“I dunno…” A goofy smile stretches across his lips. Even before he says anything, I know what’s going on. “You’re not the only guy who has been getting tail.”
Despite his cool front, I know Terrence can’t help but fall for his hookups.
“You slut. Who?” I’ll find out soon enough, either when Terrence finally gets the girl to agree to be his girlfriend or when he comes home heartbroken. He’s been through enough this year, so I’m hoping for the former.
“I’ll tell you later. We’re not exclusive or anything. Actually, we’re pretty open.” A bit of information that is definitely not intended for me.
Alex eyes up Terrence like a shark smelling blood in the water.
I’m forcing myself to be okay with this. Not like I can stand here and judge my best friend's sex lives. Even if it feels like weird friendship-incest. Terrence, my bro-y big brother and Alex, my cunty sister. Maybe they’re soulmates. Now that would be some real divine punishment.
Terrence and Alex bail to go do god knows what. The streetlamps right outside the dorm flicker on. I return to the bathroom, deciding to style my hair despite having nowhere to go. It’s actually nice, finding darker and lighter strands of pink as I preen. It’s hard to remember why I waited for so long in the first place.
My phone buzzes with a reminder to do an hour of studying. I hit snooze, like I did with the last alarm to remind me to go practice in the dance studio. Maybe tomorrow I’ll regret taking a day off. Or the regret will hit me right when I’m mid-jump in Milan.
I’m confident that when I’m too old to skate, or dance, or have secret love affairs, I won’t look back on today with regret.
I’m not sure if it’s this revelation or the new hair or if it’s my nature to push my luck—but I leave my dorm room. The cold night air is invigorating as I run to my car. It’s like I blink and find myself on Christos’ street, parking my car right in front of his house. The lights are on and his car is in the driveway. Nothing blocks the inside light from spilling onto the porch, so I could still drive away without anyone the wiser.
I knock on the door and wait. I knock a second time, snooping in the window, trying to spot Christos making dinner or watching TV. He’s impossible to miss, but the living room is empty.
“Christos?” I call and knock again.
Maybe he’s showering. Or maybe he spotted my car and is hiding upstairs.
He offered me time to think. Typical selfish me, I didn’t offer him the same. But he has so much to think about. Maybe without the adrenaline of a bloody nose, he realized we won’t work. That he cares more about his job and team or that I am too young for him.
I’d respect his decision. I’d have to.
Even if he breaks my heart, Christos Samaras is a good man.
I bang on the door to be sure he can hear me over the shower or his headphones or whatever and step back waiting for the door to swing open. The cold is getting to me and I sniffle, my bottom lip trembling. Fuck—maybe I am too immature. Too selfish. Too much.
My head thunks against the door, the hollow sound oddly satisfying.
“Roderick?”
