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Things in life, much like breakfast eggs, can be categorized in two ways: over easy, and over hard. And as ate my eggs over easy the next morning at brunch with the guys, I realized that most things involving boys were over the hard way.
"You're quiet, Corbin," Hutch observed as I picked at my plate of migas at Blue Roof Café.
"Huh?" I replied, looking up.
"You're quiet. You look like you got dumped last night," Austin chimed in. I looked at the guys and briefly flashed back to the life decisions I'd made the night before.
"I'm giving up on the Brit," I announced, putting my fork down and picking up my cup of water. My head was just beginning to clear, and I was determined not to cloud my progress with a mimosa.
I had decided last night that I wasn't going to sit around for a year and wait for a boy named Pete to notice me. I had to move on, move forward, and although it wasn't easy, it was necessary.
"What do you mean giving up?"
"You don't say giving up unless you're giving up," I replied. I took another sip. "I just realized last night that nothing between Pete and I is ever going to change, and I'm not willing to kill myself to try and change it."
"Corbin-" Roberto began. I could tell he was going to say something supportive.
"Nope," I interrupted. "My mind is made up, guys. I'm serious about this. I'm ripping the band aid off and moving on."
"I for one am proud of this decision," Austin said, stuffing his face with pancakes, whipped cream, and strawberries. "I don't think this guy is worth wasting any more time on."
Wrong! I thought. He's totally worth it.
"If you're not obsessing over a boy, what exactly are you going to do with your weekends?" Brian asked, gently spooning around his shrimp and grits.
"What is that supposed to mean?" I asked defensively.
"I'm kidding, Corbs," he replied. "I'm here for you buddy."
I nodded.
The guys shared their support from what could only be described as a one-sided breakup. I was slightly embarrassed by how upset I let my decision make me. Pete didn't even have a clue I was upset about it, and yet there I was, acting like Carrie Bradshaw and declaring love to be dead.
In all honesty, the only decision I had made was that I wasn't going to pursue Pete anymore. All that meant was that I was going to keep my distance. I wouldn't let him affect me, pull me in, string me along. I wouldn't let him Dakota me for an entire year.
My first act of strength was texting back that I wasn't going to make Dakota's goodbye breakfast. I felt bad, but I had to do what I had to do. It was day one of the ice storm, and I was determined to be cold.
I ignored his phone call about breakfast that morning. I ignored his first text message and his voice mail. I finally texted back that I was going to brunch with my brothers. He asked where I was studying later and I didn't answer.
I made it a point not to venture into public alone that day, and instead walked with Roberto and Austin to the library to study. Instead of sitting on one of the couches on the first floor, where I would no doubt be spotted by an Englishman with a new haircut, I parked it downstairs in my rarely used carrel.
What helped tremendously was that I did, in fact, have a lot of work to do that weekend. I had a marketing exam to prepare for, an English paper due in a couple of days, and studying for Non-Major Chemistry that could have taken me all week.
Still, boys were on the brain, and after about three hours of hardcore studying, I took a break to write that week's column. I pondered briefly about what it meant to be over someone, the process it took, and how one really accomplished the task.
When you felt feelings for someone, was it ever really possible to get over it? If so, how? What were the steps? When alcoholics stop drinking or druggies stop drugging it up, some take things slow and some quit cold turkey. What was the most effective way? When you're addicted to someone, how do you ever really get over the habit?
I concluded, after 750 words, that the best way to get over someone was to act like you already were. No matter how deep in it you really were, perception was reality. You could trick your mind into forgetting your feelings simply by pretending. I had made the decision to manifest my feelings for the Brit away, and I urged my readers to do the same.
I continued the ice storm with much success on Monday. I had a full day of classes, and by the time he texted asking what I was doing for Monday Night Football, I had forgotten I was even icing him. Seeing his name pop up on my screen reminded me like a slap of cold water, and so I put my phone away, and instead of going out, I slept in.
Tuesday was the first real challenge of Ice Storm Corbin. On Tuesdays, Pete and I had chorus together. Doctor Meyer had devised the choral schedule in such a way that the two male parts practiced on Tuesdays from five to six and the female parts from six to seven. Both sections met together on Wednesday for an intense rehearsal from five to six-thirty.
I usually met up with Pete around four-thirty and we would saunter down the hill to the music building together, sit next to each other, and share each other's music. That couldn't happen on that day. Sitting next to him would drive me insane.
Instead of hanging out on campus where I knew Pete would be waiting to run in to me, I hung out at the house. Sam, one of my pledge brothers, was also in chorus and so I asked if he wanted to walk down to the music building with me.
"For sure man," he said in his silky bass voice that hadn't been affected one bit by years of smoking pot. "Let me grab a sweatshirt."
Sam was the only one in my class that didn't live in the house, and had instead opted to live off campus with a group of the seniors. It was a stroke of luck that he was hanging around that afternoon instead of hot boxing his house because the only thing worse than ignoring Pete's texts would have been ignoring them, and showing up to chorus alone.
But with Sam there, I didn't feel any anxiety about putting Pete's message aside asking me where I was and if I wanted to walk down to the music building together. Instead, I simply showed up behind Sam and pretended like I didn't know Pete had texted me at all.
"Hey Corbin," I heard as soon as I walked through the doors of the building. I turned to see Pete walking next to a guy I didn't recognize, but I was sure was in my year. "How's it going?"
Instinctively, I hung back a step and let Sam walk through the door. I held the door open and let the stranger in first, followed by Pete, and then myself.
"Hey, Pete. How are you?"
"Good," he replied. The two guys we'd walked with were a couple of steps ahead of us, and I could tell Pete was in no hurry to walk into the choir room. "I feel like I haven't seen you in a while."
"I saw you Saturday," I replied. "It's Tuesday."
"Tuesday night," he smiled. "I guess I'm just used to your mug following me around."
"That's exactly what I've been doing," I answered sarcastically. I couldn't help but smile when Pete was around, and smiling led to flirting.
"Want to grab dinner after chorus? I was going to go to the D-hall with some of the I-House guys."
"I have chapter," I said slowly. I would have loved to skip chapter for a dinner with Pete, but even I couldn't justify that.
"Gotcha," he said. I looked at his face, and I could tell he got more than just snubbed for dinner. He got what I was doing. He got that I was avoiding him. He got it. But I knew he didn't get why.
I went through the motions during chorus, sitting next to Sam, and trying my best to sing through the lump of guilt that filled my throat. I felt bad for a number of reasons, chief among them the fact that my feelings for Pete weren't Pete's fault. It wasn't his fault I'd given up. It wasn't his fault that I'd fallen so deep in the first place. All Pete was guilty of was being irresistible, and there wasn't a way for him to change that. Icing him was my call to help save me, and yet he was just as affected as I was. And that wasn't fair.
But it's how it had to be; at least until I could hang out with him without sprouting an uncontrollable boner.
I walked out with Pete after chorus, mostly because I felt bad for snubbing him for the past three days.
"I'll see you around," he said to me as I went my way and he went his.
My mood didn't get any better during chapter that evening. After Dom went through the formal business, I half-assed a social report that laid out the plan for homecoming, which was a week and a half away. I laid out the schedule- cocktails on Friday, dinner on Saturday, and late night both nights. I couldn't be bothered with details, and after I'd revealed that we were picking the senior Rebecca Kahil as our choice for queen, I sat down.
Hutch was next up with the rush report, and as usual, it began with the same old same old about rushing hard, engaging in meaningful conversations, and inviting freshman over whenever possible.
"We started the year off strong," Hutch lectured. "But our enthusiasm is already starting to slow down. We have a ton of money, guys, so use it to get freshman over. Remember, it's a marathon, not a sprint."
"How many guys are on the rush list?" one of the seniors asked.
"Right now 34," Hutch answered. "About seven of those guys are regulars, a dozen or so are rushing us hard, but they're also at Sig Ep and Lambda, so let's stay aggressive with them."
"There's that one guy that was coming over early and often," the same senior added. "Where's he been? I didn't see him at late night or the mixer."
I perked up as soon as I digested the sentence. I knew he was talking about Lee, and I knew he was asking why Lee had fallen off our rush list so quick... ly.
"I'm not sure who you're talking about," Hutch replied with narrow eyes. He shot me a quick look that made it clear that he knew exactly who the senior was talking about, but he was protecting me. The guys shrugged it off, Hutch continued his report, and as soon as chapter was adjourned, I beelined for the door.
"Corbin, wait up," I heard as I placed one foot on the first stair. "Can I talk to you?"
I turned to see Hutch trailing me upstairs. I had no way out. I knew what was coming.
"Sure."
"The guys are right. We're counting on getting Lee this winter. He's interested, his dad is loaded, and he was pretty much on lock status until you pissed him off."
"He used me to get a bid."
"Which should flatter you... in a way."
"Which way?" I asked, letting my attitude seep out. I knew that Hutch was only doing his job, but that didn't stop me from being annoyed.
"Look, the fact that he would go to those lengths for a bid, I mean, it shows how much he wants in this place."
"It's been a month. We hardly know where his head is at," I countered.
"Just make amends so that he'll pick up my calls and I can do my job. You don't have to do anything but apologize and make him aware that he's welcome here."
"What if I don't think he is?" I asked.
"It's not your call. And this right here is higher than you. Make amends or I tell the EC the real reason the golden boy isn't coming around anymore."
I hated when Hutch threatened me with disciplinary action. I knew full well that it was in the house's interest to get Lee back, I didn't need him to slap me on the wrist like I was a child.
In an attempt to avoid everyone else, I immediately went to my room to study. Only I didn't study because I felt so awful about how I'd been treating Pete. It was like I was miserable around him because I couldn't have him, and now I was miserable away from him because I wasn't around him. There was no way to win with a guy like Pete. As I went to bed that night, after getting my Sister Carrie English paper done, I actually wished out loud in my head that I had never met him. This year would have been a breeze if the fucking English Inquisition hadn't had landed at my doorstep.
Wednesday was a rinse and repeat of Tuesday, only this time I walked to chorus alone. I'm sure everyone I encountered that day could tell I was in an awful mood, but I didn't care. I was in phase two of the icing process, and I couldn't revert back now.
As I walked down the hill to the music building, I took a call from Amanda asking what I was up to for the night.
"I don't know," I replied. "I hadn't thought about anything."
"You should come over. Steph and I got really bored last night and made about a hundred Jello shots. I think we're going to have some people over and then maybe go to Sig Ep later."
"That sounds fun," I replied, my mood perking up. The thought of a social gathering was always enough to get my blood flowing. "What time?"
"Eight or so. Listen, Lee will probably be here. Will that be weird?"
"Of course not," I answered quickly. I knew I'd have to run into him eventually, and this might have been the perfect time to throw that apology bone out there like Hutch wanted. "I'll see you tonight."
Pete and I had another awkward encounter as we left chorus. I thought about asking him if he was going to Amanda's that night, but I didn't want him to think I wanted him there. I was sure he'd be going, and I was sure I'd run into him. But the last thing I needed was for him to think I wanted to see him. I was almost over the hump, and I couldn't fall back now.
I showed up at Amanda's a little after eight. I was caught up on most of my work, ready for my marketing test, and I knew more about valance electrons than I cared to admit.
"Interesting article this week," Amanda said as soon as I walked through the door. I followed her to the fridge, where she pulled out four Jello shots--two for each of us.
"What do you mean?"
"'Over/Under'? Who could Corbin Crowley possibly be getting over?"
"I'm sure you know."
"You've never admitted to me that you like him."
"Liked him."
"Oh please," she replied, stuffing her face with lime green Jello. "You like him. I know you."
"Have you talked to him?"
"Yeah, I invited him over tonight, but he has work to do. He thinks you're mad at him."
"Why would I be mad at him?" I asked.
Amanda shrugged.
"I'm not mad at him, I'm just... I'm tired of liking him. It's leading nowhere and I'm ready to move on."
"I understand that, trust me," Amanda said. I could hear her voice entering lecture mode and I prepared to roll my eyes. "But have you told him how you feel? At all?"
"No," I swallowed, shifting my weight from one foot to the other. She knew I hadn't and I was annoyed at her asking.
"Well then, how do you know it's leading nowhere? Boys are stupid, Corb."
"He knows I like him. If he doesn't, he's an idiot."
"Well then let me rephrase. Boys are idiots," she said. She downed the other Jello shot, the entire time not taking her eyes off of me. I knew she was right, deep down inside. But I didn't care enough to concede that I needed to tell Pete that I liked him. I knew he knew. He had to have known. And yet, Amanda wasn't the first person to tell me that maybe he didn't.
I finished my Jello shots with Amanda and walked into their beer pong room, or where most people would have set up a dining table. The party was small to be exact. Around the table were Lee, Steph, Brandon, a couple of Amanda's sisters, and a couple Sig Eps.
I said my hi's around the table, trying my best not to be awkward. I sipped a cold beer and settled in, watching two Sig Eps play beer pong against two of Amanda's roommates.
"Hi," I said to Lee, trying my best to be cordial.
"Hey," he said. He turned immediately and walked out to the kitchen. I decided to follow him out, thinking this was my perfect chance to make amends with him like Hutch had requested. I was about to eat an entire slice of humble pie, but I knew it was necessary. I could feel Steph's eyes following me as I walked.
"Hey," I called. He was at the fridge pulling out Jello shots. He turned to look at me, didn't say anything for a second and then offered me one of the Jello shots in his hand.
"Thanks," I said. "Look, I don't want this to be awkward."
"You outed me to my girlfriend and half the school. It's going to be awkward."
"I know OD is small, but it was hardly half the school," I said with a smile and a head tilt. I wasn't sure why I was compelled to talk to him, let alone clear the air, but something about being in the room with him made me want to sweep the whole situation under the rug. "Look, you're dating my friend. You're rushing my fraternity. We're bound to run into each other, so can we just put this behind us."
"You realize that this is much easier for you to let go than for me, right?"
"And you have every right to be angry. But let's be honest, you were a jerk to me first."
Lee gave me a puzzled look. A second later, I heard Amanda's voice from the doorway.
"Is everything okay?"
I turned to her.
"Yeah," I said peachily. "Lee and I were just about to do a Jello shot. Want one?"
"I'm good," she said. "I just wanted to see if either of you wanted on the table. There's no team up."
And then I had an idea that would force Lee and me to lose the attitudes for each other.
"For sure," I said. "Lee just actually agreed to be my partner. Let us shoot these really quick and we'll see you out there."
I turned to Lee after Amanda had left and gave him a questioning look.
"No hard feelings?" Two minutes and two Jello shots later, Lee and I agreed to bury the hatchet and play beer pong together. At least for the night.
I didn't have any delusions that Lee and I would ever be real friends. Hell, I didn't even think we'd be fake friends. At the end of the day, I was simply opening the door so that he could continue to rush Chi Beta. I had no intention of letting him in, but if it made Hutch and the boys happy, I'd do my part until I had the chance to ball him.
The rest of the night consisted of Lee and I tensely playing beer pong together. As awkward as we were towards each other, we made a pretty solid team. We killed the first two teams we played and then narrowly beat Amanda and Steph when they squared off against us. A couple of jokes were made about Lee and I talking again, and I tried to keep the mood light.
A big part of me wanted to text Peter, but I knew that that would be regressing. I wasn't deluding myself into thinking I had made so much progress in getting over him over the course of three days, but I did feel less dependent on his presence. I enjoyed myself that night, and the Brit was nowhere to be found. That was progress, I told myself.
I nursed my hangover the next morning with Clifton Coffee--affectionately referred to as Cliff Coff by the locals-- as I walked through the morning motions. As September cooled into October, teachers felt the need to turn up the heat. On Thursday alone, I was assigned two papers and one midterm for the following week. Right in time for homecoming.
I got the call from Peter on Friday at about two p.m. I had just walked back to my house and was contemplating taking a nap when my phone vibrated. I saw the name, and instinctively answered it.
"Hey there, killer," I said as breezily as possible. I'd seen Pete a total of two times that whole week, and yet I still had major butterflies when he called.
"How are you?" he asked, his voice tepid and small across the line.
"I'm good. Busy."
"Yeah, same here," he replied. "I just got out of a meeting with Professor Brown, and I think I'm going to go out for her marketing intensive."
"Oh cool," I said. Almost immediately, thoughts of Pete and I working on a marketing campaign together went swirling through my mind. Had I not been trying to avoid the bastard, this would have been the most amazing news known to man. Hours upon hours of creating, drawing, writing, researching, brainstorming. I knew what went down during brainstorming. What a better way to claw your way into someone's pants than by a late night brainstorming session.
But I wasn't trying to get into his pants anymore. I'd turned over a new leaf, and I was doing well. I was getting over it. I was building a bridge.
"Yeah, she thinks that I'd be great for one of the creative spots. Have you started working on your application?"
"Not yet," I answered truthfully. "I was going to start putting it together after homecoming. Has she even released the application packet yet?"
"No, she's sending it out on Monday," he replied. "But she gave me a copy to take for the weekend if you want to come by and see it."
I knew what he was doing. I could see right through his little `come by and see it' plan. It wasn't going to work. I wasn't a sucker, and I wasn't going to fall for it.
"I would love to, but I'm actually super busy," I answered. "This weekend is going to kick my ass."
"Okay," he replied quickly. "I just thought maybe you'd want to start brainstorming ideas for your application. But if you can't swing it..."
I could hear the small traces of hurt in his voice. It wasn't much, but it was there. Unmistakable. I bet he was wondering what he'd done to turn me away. I wanted to tell him that it wasn't him, it was totally one-hundred percent me. That I needed to find a way to be his friend without wanting to jump his bones. That I needed the space it took to be near him.
But I couldn't say any of that without sounding like a complete and deranged psycho. I thought about that episode of friends where Rachel leaves Ross a message declaring that she's over him, when he had no idea that she was ever under him. I was under a guy that didn't know it.
The rest of the conversation was awkward to put it mildly. Pete asked what I was doing that night, and I made up an elaborate tale about going out with my brothers. He said maybe he'd see me around with absolutely no intention behind it, and my guilt multiplied. I hung up the phone feeling like the world's biggest asshole.
I took a nap and woke up to Roberto and Austin knocking on my door.
"Come in," I grogged. They opened the door and bolted in, leaping over my couch and onto my bed. "That's a lot of movement for this time of the afternoon."
"Get up, maricon," Roberto said. "We're going to the gym."
"No," I replied, scratching my eyes. "I'm tired."
"From what?"
"From everything," I snapped. "I don't wanna go."
"Okay," Roberto replied, pulling back and standing up.
"You seem stressed," Austin observed.
"I'm not stressed... I'm just... I want a drink."
"It's only five o'clock," Roberto said.
"Perfect," I replied, sitting up and pulling the covers off.
"Nope," Austin said, grabbing my arm. "If you're awake enough to drink, you're awake enough to go to the gym."
I had fallen right into that trap, I realized.
"Why? I'm just going to eat and drink and get sloppy tonight anyway."
"Which is why you should burn some calories first," Roberto countered. I turned my head and sighed.
"Ya'll aren't going to leave unless I go, right?"
"That's correct," Austin replied. I resigned, stood up and hunted around my room for a pair of shoes.
"Forty-five minutes on the Stairmaster and then I'm coming home. No questions."
In truth, the idea of working out kind of thrilled me. I hadn't put any substantial work into my physique since I'd gotten back to campus. I wasn't quite the gym rats that Austin and Roberto were, but even a couple of weeks off made me feel pretty lethargic, bloated, and paunchy. I changed into a pair of shorts that were short enough to make Austin and Roberto uncomfortable, and followed the guys to the gym.
We lifted weights for a few minutes, but lacking their dedication and intensity, I chose to take my trim, if not overly muscular body, to the Stairmaster.
"Mind if we join?" the guys said after I'd been on incline for about seven minutes. I was going for a two mile climb, but I didn't mind the distraction.
"There are plenty of machines," I replied.
"So what's going on with you?" Roberto asked, climbing onto his machine, adjusting some of the settings, and stepping up in unison with me. Austin was to my right, concentrating on getting his momentum going.
"What do you mean?"
"You've been down this week," Austin chimed in. I felt cornered, boxed in by the two of them. As much as I knew their intentions were pure, I didn't feel like dealing with them at the moment.
"I'm fine," I replied.
"Are you sure?" Roberto asked. "You haven't looked this way since your senior graduated after our freshman year."
The guy `Berto was referring to was the senior who had taken my virginity when I was a freshman. I'd made the mistake of falling for him while he went off to law school and never looked back.
"I'm fine, guys," I replied sternly. I looked down at my machine, saw that my steps per minute had dropped, and I redoubled my pace to catch up.
"If you say so," Austin said, clearly trying to end it. But Roberto couldn't be stopped.
"Are you and the Brit in a fight?"
"There is no me and the Brit." My voice was just on the cusp of bitterness and I couldn't help it. "I told y'all I was getting over him."
"And I think we've found our reason," Austin said. I stabbed a look right through him.
"I'm trying to get over this guy," I said. "It isn't easy and it isn't fun. If I've been in some sort of a mood, then I'm sorry, but I have to stay focused on not thinking about him or else I'll think about him."
"I liked you better when you were thinking about him," Austin said.
"That was rude, guerro," `Berto said.
"What? I'm just saying. You were miserable before, you're miserable now. What's the point? At least when you were going after the Brit you were pleasant and miserable."
"As opposed to what?" I asked, turning to Austin and giving him the full force of my bitch face.
"Look, I know this whole Pete thing must be hard for you," he replied. "But you've got to find a way to be happy and rejoin the world of the living. It's lot more fun over here. And it's not like you were even dating the guy. Come on, Corb. Chill out about this guy."
"Says the guy who hasn't been on a single date since he broke up with Rachel?" I let my voice cut in very deep. I could have kept going, but I knew I'd hit a nerve. I shook my head, stepped off my machine, grabbed my towel, and walked out of the gym without spraying down my machine.
"Corbin, wait," Austin called. I turned to see he'd followed me out. "Listen. Okay, that was uncalled for what I said. And I'm sorry. But we're here for you, buddy. We know that this Pete thing sucks, so let us be here. Don't shut us out."
I knew he meant well. I decided to let it go. I softened my face and thanked him.
"But my workout is still over," I said, turning and walked past Gentleman's Green towards the house. "I made it to the top of the Chrysler Building."
I jogged back to the house just so I could say I got a full work out in. As I showered the sweat it took to climb the Chrysler Building off my body, I decided that my boys were probably right. I was dragging that week, and for what? Over a guy that probably didn't even realize that I was snubbing him? Sure Pete had gathered that we hadn't hung out in almost a week, but was he really bothered by it? Really? He had dinners with his international friends, invitations from Amanda, and he could always count on kissing McKenzie Sutton if he ever got too lonely.
I was on the right track, but I had to turn my attitude around. I prided myself in being the guy that everyone loved to hang out with. That was my pedigree, and for the past week, I hadn't lived up to it.
After my shower, I immediately poured myself a drink, put on boxers and a wife beater, and hopped over to Austin's room.
"We're going out," I declared. He and Roberto had just gotten back from the gym and were still soaking wet and reeking.
"Okay, Eminem," Austin said, eyeing me. "Are you going to put on pants first?"
"You're going to shower. So are Roberto and Hutch and Brian and whoever else wants to come. It's a boy's night, so rally the troops."
"And what exactly are we doing on this boy's night?"
"We're going to Tropical," I smiled. I trailed off as I left the room. "And we're going to get really drunk and fuck bitches."
The Lambda Chi Alpha tropical party was one of the biggest events of the year. Like Snu's Shipwrecked and our Late Nights, it was the party that got Lambda noticed by the entire school. It started with a Kappa mixer at nine, and by ten, freshman girls were beating down the door. By eleven, it was almost impossible to walk around without bumping someone. In short, it was amazing.
I gathered the portion of my pledge class that I actually liked together in Hutch's room at around eight-thirty. I had grabbed a quick bite to eat with Austin after his shower as a sign of goodwill, and had been downing vodka waters ever since.
"Who wants to do shots?" I asked, holding up a bottle of Skyy vodka. It was technically Hutch's, but I didn't care as I offered it up to the group.
"I'm in," `Berto said. Hutch shrugged and Austin nodded. Brian was still at dinner with his girlfriend, and the rest of the guys in my class weren't aware the others were hanging out.
"What can we attribute this good mood to?" Hutch asked, pulling out four shot glasses and filling them up with lukewarm vodka.
"I realized this afternoon that I was being a Debby Downer," I responded. I shot Austin a look as I echoed his words. "This whole Brit thing is bringing me down and I'm over it. That's it."
"Just like that?" Brian asked.
"Yeah," I said, watching Hutch pour vodka after vodka. "It's like... I feel like I broke up with someone I wasn't even dating. And that's crazy, so I'm moving on."
"And let's not forget that you're the one that faux-dumped him," Hutch said. "So you really aren't allowed to sulk all that much."
"He's not over it," I heard Roberto say to Austin as he grabbed his shot glass. "I give it a week."
"You're an ass," I called to him. "And you suck at whispering."
"I wasn't trying to." That got a laugh out of the other guys.
"The thing is," I said, taking the glass from Hutch.
"And here we go," Austin grinned, sitting down and holding his glass up. I started my explanation as I cheered with the other guys and knocked my favorite vodka to the back of my throat.
"The thing is, I was so sure about this one. Like, I know for a fact that we're compatible and we could work."
"But he's straight," Roberto asked.
"Debatable," I replied, lifting my glass. `Berto led a toast and we all pounded back a shot. Before I could stifle the bile that naturally rose in my throat, Hutch was pouring us another.
"I think that if he doesn't like you, then he's straight," Austin said, simply, as if this was a math equation. If Pete and I couldn't find a way to work, then the limit, clearly, did not exist.
"Or he just doesn't like me," I replied. I pursed my lips so that it was clear I wasn't sulking. I was just putting a different spin out there. For the first time in a week, I noticed, I didn't sound like I was the saddest guy in the world. On the contrary, I sounded content. Happy almost. And I felt how I sounded.
We pounded back a few more shots, made fun of Hutch for falling even deeper with a freshman, and chided Roberto and Austin about their accidental celibacy, before walking across the bridge through town and to Greek Row.
You could see the three foot waterfall that defined Lambda Chi's Tropical from half a mile away. It was lit up, flowing with abandon into a four foot deep kiddie pool from the roof of their house. It was spectacular.
"No funny business with the pool this year," I warned the guys as we approached. "I'm serious this time. These jeans are expensive."
For the past two years, my brothers had thought it funny to toss me into the kiddie pool that caught the water from the three story waterfall. Our freshman year, when I barely knew Roberto and Hutch, and didn't know Austin at all, the temperature in the air had dropped to forty degrees when they threw me in. I spent a night under three blankets trying to ward off a fever. Sophomore year, they'd caught me by surprise, carried me down two flights of stairs, and thrown me in shoes, phone, and all. I was so pissed that I thought about filing a formal complaint with our fraternity nationals. This year, my jeans and new phone were too expensive to throw in to a kiddie pool, and they needed to know that.
"You've got it, buddy," Austin promised with a smirk.
We arrived just before eleven, and I immediately found my friend Drew and forced him to get me something stronger than beer. I followed him up to the roof deck where the tropical beverages were being poured, mostly for ladies and the occasional brother. There were blenders out, an indication that the margaritas and pina coladas had been blended to order at some point, but that practice was long gone. The drunker the brothers of Lambda got, the less they cared.
I knocked back a hurricane and then nursed a Tecate beer, all while chatting it up with Drew and some of his brothers. I spent a good half hour trying to convince Drew to get me an annual tropical t-shirt.
"You know the rules, Crowley. You have to swallow a goldfish," he said to me, shaking his head after the fourth time I asked for a shirt.
"Oh come on. I've swallowed more goldfish here than any of those floozies downstairs," I protested.
"Oh, I know what you've swallowed here," he said without batting an eye. It wasn't a secret that I'd spent my sophomore year hooking up with a gay Lambda pledge. "I know how you earned your t-shirt last year."
"Oh, whatever," I replied. "Just go downstairs, grab me a t-shirt and get your pretty little ass back up here."
"I'll think about it," he said with a twinkle in his eye. I knew it was the best I could count on, so I let it go.
At one point in the night, I ran into Nick Persons, who took another opportunity to invite me over to listen to some of his beats.
"I heard most of them the other day," I said with a smile. Persons was the kind of guy that could make anyone, gay or straight, smile. His hair was perfectly disheveled. His clothes were a mixture of euro-trash and preppy-chic. His skin was perpetually tan, and his Maryland accent dripped like honey from the silver spoon that he was born holding.
"We didn't scratch the surface, bro," he slurred. What was fun about Persons was that you whether he wanted to spin beats or do anything more, he was still so glaringly beautiful, I would have watched him polish his records for all I cared.
As the clock rounded midnight, I felt my phone vibrate in my pocket. At first I ignored the text message, assuming it was one of my brothers wondering where I was. I didn't want to answer it and feel obligated to meet up with them, therefore missing my chance of watching Nick Persons talk some more about Swedish DJs I'd never heard about.
When my phone vibrated again, I told Nick to hang on a second.
"No worries, man," he said. "I'll grab us another beer." I nodded, smiled, and clicked my phone on.
The message wasn't from one of my brothers. The message was from a kid I'd been ignoring all day. The message was from the last person I needed to get a message from.
To Corbin: Come to the country! Me and Amanda want you!
I read the message a dozen times. What did he mean by `Me and Amanda want you'? They wanted me how? There were at least a couple of ways to interpret that, and I was determined not to jump to the furthest conclusion. They probably just wanted to hang out, I thought. Of course. Or maybe they were out at the party on Windy Hill and didn't know very many people. Maybe they wanted me to introduce them around.
To Pete: I'm at Tropical. You should have come and swallowed a fish!
To Corbin: You would swallow J
I blushed as I read the message. As I tried to think of a witty response, I felt my phone vibrate in my hand.
To Corbin: A fish.
To Pete: You have no idea what I'm capable of swallowing.
To Corbin: I'll just have to imagine.
I felt myself smiling at our conversation. Pete could have been a million miles away, and I still would have been smiling like a block of cheese. I was hopeless, I thought. I needed to cut it out. I'd tried, but it was hard. I swallowed, put my phone away and decided to try harder.
I didn't respond to Pete's last message, and instead, I looked around and waited for Nick Persons to return with some drinks. He climbed back onto the roof with two beers and I made a play at pretending to care about what he was prattling on about. In reality, I couldn't have cared any less. My mind was preoccupied.
The Brit had texted me. He had reached out to me. He had thought about me, requested my presence, and taken an innocent response and spun it dirty. He had done that. Not me. I was winning, I thought. My icy plan, after only five days, was working.
He had texted me.
"Hey buddy," I heard Austin say from behind me. I turned to see him and Roberto climbing up to the rooftop terrace.
"I think we're going to head back to the house soon," Roberto said. They had both been lei'ed to the extreme and looked more tropical than some of the Lambdas.
"Really? It's barely midnight," I replied, turning back to Nick Persons.
"Yeah, but everyone is out in the country, and it's starting to wind down."
I hadn't noticed that the tropical party was ending because the rooftop terrace was as full as it always was.
"Then let's go to the country," I said. If I went with my boys, I wouldn't be going for a boy, and therefore, if I happened to run in to the Brit, it wouldn't count against me. My rationale played out quickly and thoroughly.
"I don't really feel like it," Austin said.
"Y'all can always come party it up at the River Houses," Nick chimed in. "I'm sure we're gonna kick up a bonfire at some point."
"Tempting," Austin cut at the Sigma Chi.
"I'm not really ready to go home," I said. I didn't want to go with them, but I'd come out with them, and I didn't want to stay out by myself. It was a delicate balance. I could have stayed with Nick for the rest of the night, gone back to the River Houses, listened to his beats and quite possibly gotten laid. But if I had had anything less than a stellar night, they all would have blamed it on me ditching them. There were serious consequences for leaving the wolfpack and venturing solo.
"Just come downstairs," Roberto said. "We'll see what Brian and Hutch want to do."
I agreed to that much and told Nick I'd see him in a few. We met the rest of my pledge class outside, just below the pool. I could feel droplets from the waterfall hitting my left side.
"Did you get a shirt?" I asked Hutch.
"Yeah," he replied.
"How?" I asked, incredulous that a guy had gotten a shirt. It was almost unheard of. Guys could swallow dozens of fish, and their shirt would still go to a pretty girl standing in the corner.
"I got Hayley to grab it for me," he said, proud of himself for his near-accomplishment.
"Are you guys really ready to go home?" I asked. "It's early yet. Let's keep it going. Come one, it's a boy's night! Austin, you've gotta get your dick wet."
And as soon as I said the word wet, I noticed it. I noticed that somehow I'd ended up inside of a semi-circle of my brother, and the only free side led directly to the four-foot deep backyard pool. It was like my mind clicked on with the word wet, and I knew what was about to happen.
Once I made the connection, I saw all of the clues. None of them had their phones handy. In fact all of their phones were on a table not far from the pool, being guarded by an obedient Hayley. Hutch and Austin both had their pants rolled up and were bracing. Brian was standing tall and wide.
"No," I breathed out. I could see the wicked look on Hutch's face.
I had a flashback of freshman and sophomore years, and tried not to hyperventilate. I flashed back to how cold the water had been. I flashed back to how I'd almost chaffed from walking around in wet jeans. I flashed back at having to call my mother and tell her that the limited edition AT&T Rocker she'd gotten for me, the first phone with iTunes capability, was sitting in a vat of rice and the outlook of it ever working again was dicey.
And there I stood, junior year, facing my fate. I'd forgotten that they were going to try something shady. If I'd remembered I would have stayed on the roof with Nick Persons until I felt safe. But I hadn't stayed. And I wasn't safe.
The next minute played out before me in slow motion. I kicked. I tried to run. I screamed like a girl. I fought. I landed a punch on Brian's face. I kicked some more. I cursed. I threatened. I cried out.
And I got wet.
I stood up, the water coming to just below my chest, and saw the four of them, so proud of themselves. In the chaos, I'd managed to tug at Hutch's new Lambda shirt and pulled it in with me.
"This bitch is mine!" I called out. They couldn't control their laughter. Neither could the two or three dozen people who'd seen the attack. I climbed out of the pool, angry and embarrassed. I was drunk, sure, but not drunk enough to forgive them for dunking me in the water after I'd specifically told them not to. I grabbed my phone, grateful that Hutch had pulled it out of my pocket before I went in, but still annoyed.
"Y'all are assholes," I said, stalking off towards the shuttle stop.
"Corbin!" Austin called after me. I knew they were following me to see just how angry I was.
The truth is, I didn't know why I was so pissed. It was a harmless joke. A million people had been pushed in that pool before me and a million would go in after. But something about the week I'd had, the month I'd had, made me feel like the guys lacked any sort of compassion. The pool was my breaking point. I was water broken.
I didn't have to wait at all for the shuttle. In fact, it was timed so perfectly that as I crossed the street, the bus came to a stop and I walked right on it. I could hear the guys calling after me, but I didn't stop. I heard Roberto call me a bitch for getting so angry, but I didn't care. I was done with them. Pissed off. Livid.
And I had my excuse. Without skipping a beat, I sat down next to a girl who remarked on my water soaked clothes. I looked at her like she was an idiot and hoped that my wet ass was getting her Longchamp wet as well. I fielded off a dozen texts from the boys asking what I was doing, and fifteen minutes later, I stepped off of the shuttle bus and on to the very top of Windy Hill.
To Pete: Where are you?
To Corbin: Windfall. On the porch. Come over.
I took my time walking over to where he was, not wanting to be too eager. But as soon as I spotted him on the porch, my face lit up and I erased every ounce of progress I'd made that week.
I felt guilty regressing into a lovesick schoolgirl again. I was like an addict falling off the wagon, only I wasn't necessarily falling. I was jumping head first back into the addiction I knew was hurting me.
But I couldn't help it. The Brit, standing there as if he was holding court, wanting me to join him, looked amazing while he amused the crowd. He was everything to me. He was beautiful. He was funny. And he was just into me enough that it made my ice cold manifesto seem pointless, cruel, and over.
"You're all wet!" he said, giving me a big hug after I'd elbowed my way to where he was.
"Either I was thrown in a pool, or I'm just happy to see you."
"You better be happy to see me, killer," he said.
"Hey! That's my word for you," I said, cocking my neck backwards. "You can't say killer."
"Really? Watch me, killer," he said. The way he said it sent chills down my spine, and filled my cock with blood. It was a whisper. He lingered on the L and completely dropped the R. His left hand, although not connected to the pronunciation, was lodged on the small of my back. If the porch hadn't been so crowded, I would have cum right then.
"I'm going to get us a drink," he said, walking into the house and leaving me standing there on the balcony with Amanda.
I turned to face her, and was immediately slapped by a look.
"What?" I asked. She lifted an eyebrow.
"What?" I repeated.
"What? What is that I'm standing here too, in case you didn't notice."
"Of course I noticed, Mandy," I said, rolling my eyes and giving her an unbalanced half hug. "I love you."
She didn't respond, but instead simply shook her head.
"What?" I asked for the third time.
"Nothing, it's just... this is exactly what he wants."
"What are you talking about?" I asked.
"This. You. Running over here. I've seen it a million times at the sorority, Corbs, and now I see it written all over your face."
"What are you talking about?" I stressed, my vocabulary apparently reduced to nothing.
"You are so available to him. It's like the second he craves attention, he knows exactly who to call, and you're here."
"But I..." I started to protest. I could hear the justification coursing through my brain. I'd iced him for a week. I hadn't been the one to make first contact. I missed him.
But I knew how hollow that justification would sound. Mandy was right. We'd talked to girls about this before. Tamia, Stephanie, even Amanda had fallen victim and I'd had to pull her out.
"Look, I'm just saying that he called you, you got on a bus, soaking wet, and came running to see him. And you haven't looked down ever since."
I took that opportunity to look down, both physically and figuratively. Who was I? What was I doing? Standing there in wet jeans just because a British man wanted me to.
"Oh my god, you're right," I recognized. It was a sobering thought, and it couldn't have come at a drunker hour. I watched as the Brit waded through the crowded dance floor, holding two full solo cups over his head, and I knew exactly what I needed to do.
"Thanks," I said when he handed me my beer. He smiled down at me as we both took a sip. "But I actually, I need to go."
He gave me a puzzled look.
"I need to go," I repeated.
"Is something wrong?" he asked. I could see Amanda watching the whole thing while pretending to make small talk with another girl close to us.
"No," I said confidently. "I just... I can't stay and drink this with you."
I started to walk away.
"Corbin," I heard in that distinct British tone that dropped the r' and hardened the b'. "Do you want me to come with you?"
A week ago I wouldn't have hesitated. Hell, five minutes ago, I would have said fuck yeah. But looking at Pete, I realized if I was going to survive this Englishman, if I was going to survive this English Year, I would need to be stronger. I would need to be disciplined. And I would need to learn to walk away.
"I'm going home alone," I said strongly, turning and walking towards the bus pickup. "I'm going home alone tonight."
The road home that night, as I sat alone on a bus packed to the brim with drunk college kids coupled off for the night, was paved with good intentions. And good intentions never got anyone very far.
**Thank you for reading. As always, your feedback is greatly appreciated. You can send your thoughts and comments to Jwolf24450@gmail.com