Choking, I dry off the front of my shirt. “Uh…” It doesn’t seem like he’s bragging or trying to piss me off, just stating a fact. The mental picture makes me want to bleach my brain. “I … wouldn’t know,” I say finally.
“Bummer.” He stretches, giant muscles popping under his skin. “What’s she doing tomorrow?”
I’m not her goddamn pimp, I want to say, but I shake my head. “We have plans.” But they won’t include you. Not if I have anything to do with it.
RAYCHEL
Predictably, Andrew wants to go to the frat party. Matt does not.
“I thought we were having movie night,” he says, absently shuffling through the files I’ve just put in alphabetical order. It’s the first time he’s made it home from school early enough to see that I’m doing real work.
“We had movie night last weekend,” I point out. It feels like a million years ago. I’ve spent as much time as possible over here working. I had hoped I’d also spend a lot of time kissing Andrew, but he hasn’t been around—he keeps saying he has a study group, which has to be a joke. He doesn’t owe me an explanation if he just wants to hang with other friends, but it’s not like him to pass up secret make-out opportunities.
I wonder if he’s already losing interest.
I wish I didn’t care so much. But I’m bummed. I thought I’d worked out the best kind of relationship—reliable, fun, and not completely without feeling, but without the public scrutiny that goes along with having an official boyfriend.
Instead I have Carson making all these public gestures, and I can’t help but wish it was Andrew instead.
*
Later that night, I’m wide awake when Andrew sneaks into the guest room. We’ve never made out in here before, and never in a bed. We don’t say a single word to each other, but the need to stay quiet makes everything feel more intense. More real. More like I’m communicating things I never meant to say.
We go farther than we ever have, until we’re both sweaty and panting and I have to break the silence to say stop, even though we’re both wishing for more. And he doesn’t push it. But he doesn’t stay. When we start falling asleep, he kisses my eyelids and stands up. It seems like he wants to tell me something, and I sit up because his expression makes me think I’ll need to be solid and stable to hear it.
But a creak from downstairs sends him on a hasty escape. I lose another hour of sleep wondering if that was an It’s been nice, but it’s done kind of look, or … something else.
Both possibilities scare me.
Saturday, I use the constant stream of football games on TV as an excuse to ignore both boys and pretend everything is normal. The guilt of not telling Matt is starting to wear on me. But suggesting Andrew and I go public means defining what we are. We’re coming to a crossroads, and until I know which fork he’s taking, I have to keep plowing straight ahead.
At eight, Asha meets us in the lobby of Spencer’s dorm. She kisses everyone on the cheek and rests her forehead against mine. “I’m so glad to see yoooou!” She’s obviously a few drinks up on us, as usual. Lucky.
We leave the car in the dorm lot and start the trek to Greek Row. Like a genius, I wore heels. High ones. And in other questionable decisions, my skirt is short, my shirt is tight, and my makeup is … well, enough that Matt commented, so obviously too much. But I don’t want to stand out, and showing up in anything less would attract attention.
Liam meets us on the front porch, where four white columns pretend to hold up the roof. He waves Asha and Spencer in. “Richardson!” he says, beckoning to Andrew. “Come check out the house.”
Andrew glances at me and I’m not sure what he’s thinking. Does he want me to come with him? Then another frat boy steps in, hitting Andrew with some fancy handshake. “Come on, man, you’re gonna rush, right?”
Andrew shrugs. “I dunno yet.”
The guy laughs. “How you gonna get any pussy if you don’t?”
My mouth flattens. I want Andrew to be the kind of guy that shuts that shit down, but Matt’s the one who rolls his eyes. “How indeed,” he says, stepping through the door.
Andrew just laughs. He sounds uncomfortable, I’ll give him that, but still. I’m not sticking around to hear more, so I go into the main room while Liam leads him to another part of the house.
Asha glances at me from the corner of her eye. I pretend to be very interested in the huge stuffed moose head hanging above the fireplace. It’s wearing a white hat and a tie. Poor thing.
Across the half-full room, several girls perch on couches. One is wearing the same red top as me, and she’s giving me the stink eye. Like I’m going to tell everyone she bought it at Target. The cluster of guys checking them out from around the keg wouldn’t care, but those so-called sisters beside her might.
That’ll be me next year, I realize. Still at these campus parties, playing these same games. Maybe with Asha and Spencer, but no Matt—and maybe Andrew, but as what? My secret high school boyfriend? And even that’s only for a year. No matter what everyone else thinks, Andrew is smart. He’s going somewhere else.
He won’t be here. And I will.
“I need a drink,” I say out loud.
“Spence,” Asha orders, and he and Matt head for the keg. In their absence, she pulls her boyfriend’s flask from her cleavage. “What was that?”
“What was what?” She passes it to me and I shudder as the whiskey hits my throat.
“That look, asking your permission. Are you Andrew’s mommy now?”
I breathe like a dragon to get rid of the burn. “No.”
She raises an eyebrow. “Are you Andrew’s—”
“No.” I tip the flask again, too fast, and choke. Matt returns just in time for me to grab his beer and chug it.
MATT
Andrew and I each have an arm, holding Raychel up as she stumbles back to the car. “Annnndreeeeeew…” she sings. “What did Liam want?”
We all know what Liam wants. He’s hoping Andrew will be a recruit year after next, but they’d better start throwing cooler parties if he wants that to happen. “He gave me a tour of the house,” Andrew says.
He was gone more than an hour, and since he volunteered to be DD for once, I drank several beers in that time span. But not as many as Raychel, who also helped Asha kill an entire flask of whiskey. She misses the step up onto the curb and falls, both knees hitting the concrete hard, and starts to giggle.
“Shit,” Andrew and I say at the same time, and that sends her into gales of laughter. “I didn’t know the puddle effect worked when you’re walking,” I say. She can’t answer. We fold her into the backseat and stand by the closed car door.
“What now?” he asks, glancing at his phone. “It’s early.”
“You can drop us off at home and head to the Homecoming party at Trenton Montgomery’s,” I suggest. “Or you could drop us off and go to the Grove.”
Andrew glances at the car and a gnawing starts in my gut. He looks so … concerned. “I dunno.” He looks back at me. “Anyway, gimme your keys.”
I hand them over. “Andrew’s driving?” Raychel asks as we get in.
He turns around. “Your carriage awaits, m’lady.” She cracks up and I roll my eyes again. “So where to?” he asks.
“Home,” I say.