“I’m weirded out. Like, I knew the stereotypes of college, too, but it was never an option for me when I enrolled here. If I went to UMass with Dawn, would I be next to her in this picture?” I point to her bedazzled denim hot pants as Exhibit A.
Setting down the phone on the bench between us, Matt folds his hands in front of him and leans his elbows on his knees. “You’re worried about what might have happened?”
Mimicking his position, I don’t offer a verbal answer. I let us sit in silence since I feel his question is more rhetorical.
“Kennedy,” he sighs, “if you wanted to behave that way, you would have found a way by now.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” Sitting up, I lean against the back of the bench and tuck my knees into my chest—making sure my skirt is tucked around my body.
Matt stays forward. “I mean, if you wanted to go out and drink, you would have. You’re in town enough, and have plenty of opportunity. More than a lot of other kids on campus.”
“Yeah,” I huff, “if I want to get kicked out of school. I’m not exactly CU’s most low-profile student. And, anyway, it’s against all the rules, and stuff. I don’t really know anyone off campus, anyway, besides who I work with.”
He laughs and finally sits up. “Logistics aside—because you do know a ton of people off campus—do you think no one at school does that kind of stuff?” He gestures flippantly toward the phone.
My eyes bug from my head. “Uh …”
“Okay, maybe not that.” His smile broadens and I take a second to admire the tiny creases on the edges of his eyes. One of the side effects of living somewhere with sunshine most of the year. “But kids drink. Not a lot of them, but they do.”
“Who? The football players?”
“Nice,” he muses. “Some of them, and some other kids. Just … people.”
“And you know this because …”
“I’m not naive,” he quips.
I shoot him a dirty look.
Matt holds his hands up in mock surrender. “Fine, fine. I know this because, yes, I have gone to a couple of parties with guys from the football team.”
“How does no one get caught?”
He shrugs. “Grace?”
“Matt!” I slap his shoulder.
“Stop hitting me!” he teases.
“I’m serious!”
“So am I.” He takes a deep breath and seems to regroup. “We’re college kids, Kennedy. We’re supposed to test stuff.”
“But, Jesus …” I’m a little more serious than I thought I’d be when I planned that sentence in my head.
Matt shrugs. “Some of your friends are Christian, right? The ones doing the body shots?”
My mouth hangs open. “I’m sorry, I’m hung up on your proper use of the term body shots.”
“I’m from the South, Kennedy, not under a rock.”
I arch an eyebrow to give a quick retort, but he cuts me off.
“Don’t even,” he warns.
“Okay,” I take a deep breath, “so I know that now no one is likely to invite me to one of these … gatherings. Because, Roland. But, why didn’t anyone before? Like, when they thought I was the scary Pagan from New England?”
“Get over yourself,” Matt teases. At least I think he’s teasing. “A. I don’t think anyone, except maybe Joy, thought you were a scary anything. B. Freshman aren’t usually invited anywhere like that. Even if the upperclassmen are going to break the rules, there’s kind of this understanding that they won’t poison the young and impressionable.” He offers a cheesy smile, posing as innocently as possible.
I point my index finger into the end of his nose. “Young and impressionable you are not?”
He shrugs.
“Hmm,” I nod approvingly, “the dark underbelly of CU.”
“Not that dark.” He points to my phone once more.
After a few seconds of silence, while I reshuffle my assumptions once more, tossing most of them into my mental trash bin, I address Matt. “Do you drink a lot?”
“I don’t drink at all,” he says flatly, causing me to purse my lips. “I’m serious, Kennedy.” His tone darkens, almost sending a chill through me.
“Why not?” I ask. “Why bother going at all if you’re not going to do the illegal thing they’ve gathered to do?”
“Do you drink?” he asks.
“No.”
“Would you go if you were invited?”
“Yes,” I admit quickly.
“Why?”
“To study the disciples in Sodom,” I answer with a grin.
Matt holds his hands out, mouth hanging open comically as if I’ve just said the most obvious thing in the world.
“Bull,” I challenge.
“Excuse me.”
“I call bull. I’d say shit, but you’re being weird, so I won’t. But, bull. You don’t go to study anyone. You know how everyone is. These are your people.”
I guess I’ve hit a nerve, because Matt stiffens at my side and bites the inside of his cheek.
“Just be honest,” I say softly. “If you’re not going to drink, is it so you’ll feel included in the team? I mean, I’ve looked online—you’re really good from what the stats say—so I don’t think you’d need to prove something …”
Matt faces me and starts to open his mouth, but I cut him off.
“You’re dancing with danger,” I blurt out.
“What?”
“You’re trying it all on—the scene—to see if maybe it’s something you want to do.”
Matt shakes his head. “I promise you I don’t want to drink or degrade women. And, I do go to study people.”