My shaking has started to subside by the time I pull up to the curb in front of the house twenty minutes later. But it’s back when the car I pull up behind is Nate’s. Over the course of the semester, Marcus and I have gradually gotten back to shooting texts at each other a couple times a day. But we never mention Nate. He’s still the elephant in the room. As long as we ignore his existence, Marcus and I do okay. But as far as I know, Nate is still on Marcus’s shit list.
I rush inside and find Nate and Marcus in the family room. They’re wrestling on the floor, crashing into the coffee table and nearly knocking it over. There’s a lot of grunting and cursing, but no one’s laughing…so it looks like they’re working things out in their own way.
I leave them to deal with each other and go to the shower.
∞
Spring semester seems to drag. But that’s mostly because I forgo any semblance of a social life and spend every waking minute holed up in the library or my room with my books. I’m down to my last final, but Nate just drove down from Reno today. He finished finals a few days earlier than me and came straight to Berkeley to stay with me while I finish up.
But I realize that might have been a really bad idea when I’m on the bed, trying to study, and he’s sitting behind me, playing with my tits.
“Glad I didn’t miss your birthday,” he says in my ear. He takes my hand and lays it on his junk. “I’ve got a very special package with your name on it.”
“Yeah, me too,” I say, taking my hand off him. “But I really have to study this.”
A key rattles in the lock just before my roommate, Aimee, pushes through the door into the room. She’s all blond Malibu Barbie, which is a little scary because that’s really where she’s from.
“Well, look at that!” she says, smiling at Nate. “You exist!”
He gives her his full-dimple grin as he pats himself down. “Last I checked, yeah.”
She drops her bag near her desk. “It’s just, Blaire tells any guy that comes onto her she’s got this boyfriend, but it’s been an entire school year and no one’s ever met you, so…you can see why we were a little skeptical.”
He looks at me as if he doesn’t like that someone might have been touching his stuff. “Guys hit on you?”
I shrug. “Sometimes.”
Aimee drops onto her bed. “You’ve got nothing to worry about. Her nose is always in a book. If I can drag her to a party, it must be a freaking ice storm in hell.”
Nate climbs off my bed. “Nate,” he says, holding out a hand to Aimee. “The real live boyfriend. Great to meet you.”
“You ready in there?” I hear Dee, who lives across the hall, call from the hallway. A second later, she comes through the open door with a…
“Is that a cake?” I ask, scooting off the bed.
She puts it on my desk and brushes her long afro off her face, leaving a smudge of white frosting across her black cheek. Her boyfriend, Mike, come through behind her and starts singing “Happy Birthday.” He’s tall, skinny, and blond. Dee’s negative image.
Everyone joins in, even Nate, who hams it up, acting the song out like he’s in some Broadway musical. I walk over and look at the sorriest excuse for a cake I’ve ever seen.
“Aimee couldn’t get it out of the pan in one piece,” Dee explains.
“You didn’t grease the pan!” Aimee shoots back. “It stuck!”
Dee does a ‘whatever’ eye roll. “I had to glue it back together with frosting.”
I stare at it, then crack up. Crumbs of chocolate cake are all mixed in with the white frosting, and the top layer has slid halfway off. Happy Birthday Blaire is written on top in green frosting, but both Ys are more on the side of the cake then on top of it. But it’s the first time I can remember that anyone actually baked me a cake.
When Marcus and I were little, Mom would buy a six pack of cupcakes at the supermarket on her way home from work and stick a candle in each one. Once I was about ten, she decided we were too old for birthday cake. Or, at least that’s what she said. I always suspected she just forgot to stop at the store.
“This is the most awesome cake I’ve ever had,” I tell them truthfully.
“What are you guys doing for dinner?” Aimee asks.
I look at the chapters I still have to review before tomorrow. “That sorry ass birthday cake, I’m pretty sure.”
“No way,” Dee says, grabbing my hand and dragging me toward the door. “It’s your birthday.”
I pry my hand away. “I don’t think Professor Canton gives a shit. I’m barely squeaking by with a C in his class. I need to kick this final’s ass or they’re going to pull my scholarship money next year.”
Aimee splits a glance between us. “Listen, if you need to study, why don’t we take Nate out to The Bowl so he can see what we do for fun around here and you can get some work done. We’ll have a drink in your honor.”
I look at Nate, pleading with my eyes for him to say yes.
“Yeah, okay,” he says, giving me a nod. “So what’s this Bowl?”