—But it’s also – I work on campus as a street sign, he said.
I bent forward and laughed. The next school of girls flitted their way into the vast room where the music lived. Inside that room, just past its entrance, was some of the worst dancing I’d ever seen up to that point in my life. Even though the song playing had a heavy bass beat, had been all over the radio for months, even though the music video for it showcased a wide array of booty-dancing options for the viewer to imitate, either no one in there had seen that video, or something got lost between their brains and their bodies. Some people were just sort of jumping in place, not even moving their arms, while others thrashed from side to side—all to slightly different rhythms, as if they had on headphones and were listening to other songs. The girls who’d just walked in shoved out their butts, squatting as if doing some slutty aerobics. One girl started pumping her shoulders and high-stepping like a bird searching for a mate. I looked back at Ethan and expected to see him laughing at them, but he wasn’t—not at all. He was tapping his foot. I slung my thumbs into my belt loops and tugged my jeans down my hips a little more.
—You gonna go dance or what? I said.
He smiled into his cup. I don’t dance.
—You don’t dance? Then why are you here?
—I came with some of my residents – I’m an RA in Donald Hall. Before you got here I was actually about to go.
—Uh-huh, I said.
He held up his arm, turned his wrist, showing off his wristband.
—Really, he laughed, I was really leaving. Probably head up to the bars and see who’s around. It’s twenty-one-and-over, though, so, sorry.
He pointed at my wristband and I snorted. The new song had been on for at least a minute by then. If I moved now, I’d catch the chorus.
He said, You’re a freshman, right?
I looked away from him, back at what passed for dancing.
—Dude, he said, don’t be ashamed. Enjoy it.
There was no way I looked only eighteen and he had to know it. He raised his cup to his mouth in an awkward move meant to hide his eyes as they moved over my waist, then my chest. I leaned back on the wall, pinning my hair against it with my shoulders.
He said after the long sip, I’m graduating this spring, and every time I think about it, I feel like I’m going to hurl. Time flies, Lizet.
I said, Would you say it yields for no one?
He cringed and said, OK, that was a good one, that was clever. But, on that note.
He pointed down to the ground. He said, The underage beer is in the basement, but you didn’t hear that from Ethan the RA.
—You’re really leaving.
He handed me his empty cup, gave me a crooked salute, then shot each of his thumbs toward the house’s front door. He took one step away, then swung back to me and said, Do you like ice skating?
I scrunched my face, shook my head no. Never been, I said.
—What! He shoved his hands in his outdated hair and pulled it. You’re kidding me.
—Remember when I said I was from Miami?
—So what? That means you’re too cool for ice skating? I mean, it’s ice skating!
—You don’t dance.
He hopped in place and said, OK, tomorrow? One thirty in front of Donald Hall, I’m in charge of – it’s a program for my residents. Not that many people signed up. You should come.
He stopped hopping and held up both his hands and said as he rolled his eyes, Don’t worry, I know you have a boyfriend.
He backed away with his hands still up, like I was suddenly dangerous.
—I don’t have skates or whatever, I said.
—Don’t need ’em. Provided free of charge courtesy of Rawlings College.
He raised his arms to the ceiling as if Rawlings was God in the sky.
—Maybe I’ll be there, I said.
—Stop being a poser and just show up tomorrow, he yelled from a few feet away.
—I’m not being a –
He made a buzzer sound, then yelled, Poser! Look at you posing! before ducking into the new crowd at the door.
The other people in the foyer all looked at me as he left, and I wondered if I was too cool for ice skating. I wondered what he’d meant by that—if I’d come off as snotty as I’d walked in rather than just confident and in control, finally in my element. Maybe it was simpler than that: maybe RAs got bonuses for recruiting another dorm’s residents to their programs—double points for minorities! Why go through the show of inviting me otherwise, if I seemed too cool for it?
Jillian tumbled down the foyer toward me, way too excited about something.
—And who was that? she said.
Her hands slipped back to my shoulders. She pressed them against the wall, but I pulled her hands away and freed my hair by swinging it forward.
—Some guy I met at work. He’s an RA.
She lurched at me and said, He totally wants you.
—And he’s totally not my type. He’s – it’s like someone set fire to a palm tree.
—No! He’s cute! she said. Wait! Is he why you’ve been avoiding Omar?
She wagged her finger in my face and I smacked it away.