Cameo and I agreed, following Derek toward the music we could feel pumping through our chests. Joining a crowd that seemed to be flowing as one, we let loose and lost ourselves in the music. Dancing came naturally to our trio, and it was something we enjoyed doing together. As in, just the three of us. Being in a large crowd, we would occasionally have to put up with some drunken dude trying to grind against Cameo or me, but Derek was good at stepping in. At six foot five, he was an imposing figure who could maneuver his body wherever he wanted to shelter us from unwanted advances.
After an hour, we were dripping with sweat, despite the nip in the nighttime air that circulated through the open windows and doors. Pulling my damp hair off the back of my neck, I indicated with a nod of my head to Derek and Cameo that it was time for a break. It felt like we needed a shoehorn to squeeze through the jumbled bodies, but eventually we made it out of the room.
“Holy shit, talk about a cardio workout. I should be a twig after all that,” I complained, snagging another drink. I glared at Cameo, who was practically a waif standing next to me. “I should effing hate you.”
“Don’t be an ass. I’d take your boobs any day over these.” She cupped her smallish breasts in her hands. “At least you’ve got curves. I’m like a stick.”
“Look, ladies, you can both be jealous of my perfect body,” Derek interrupted, making a point of tossing his imaginary long hair. “Some of us got it, and some of us don’t.” Cameo and I laughed. Derek was a bit of a showboat, which made him perfect for our group. “I’m going to get a drink,” he added, following Cameo, who was already headed in that direction.
I stayed behind, content with the beer I had pulled from a nearby cooler. It was nice to take a breather and observe the crowd a little. I became preoccupied watching a group playing a distorted version of Spin the Bottle when a pair of arms reached around my stomach, pulling me roughly against a hard chest.
“Are you ready to kiss and make up?” Chuck growled in my ear. He smelled like a distillery.
“Not really.” I shrugged my shoulders, stepping out of his grasp.
“Come on, girl. You’re gonna let a little fight ruin this?” He sounded as drunk as he smelled.
I wanted to laugh, but that would probably only egg him on further. I also wasn’t in the mood for a messy scene tonight, so I went with a softer approach and a little more tact than he probably deserved.
As I spun around to face him, I couldn’t for the life of me remember why I had gone out with him in the first place. He was a partier like I was and had seemed cool when I met him at Club Zero a couple weeks ago, but he was a meathead. I pretty much realized on our first date that we probably weren’t going to make it. Mostly because he was a perpetual nut scratcher. I don’t mean he would do the occasional subtle shift that some guys do with their junk. If that was all he did, I could have lived with it. He was an all-out ball scratcher, and didn’t seem to care who saw him do it. It could be the waitress who looked disgusted as she handed over our pizza, or Cameo, or basically anyone who was having a conversation with him. If you stood next to Chuck, at some point you would see him scratch his balls.
“Chuck, it’s not you, it’s me,” I said, cringing at my chosen cliché. How did you tell someone you would rather gouge out your eyes than see him play with his junk again?
“What the fuck? Who uses a bullshit line like that?” He grabbed my arm so I couldn’t move. I looked down at his hand that was wrapped around my wrist. Seriously? Why did it always come down to this? Did I have the words please manhandle me tattooed on my forehead?
I noticed Derek approaching from the corner of my eye. He was hard to miss because of his size, and judging by the look on his face, Chuck would want no part of what was coming. I held out my free hand to stop him before he could get involved. I may have an uncanny knack for dating assholes, but I also knew how to take care of myself when I needed to. I stepped on Chuck’s shoe and slowly rolled my weight so my platform heel sank down on the softness of his toes. “In case you’re too stupid to notice, we’re done.” He grunted in pain, making me smile. Sometimes it paid not to be a lightweight.
“Get off me, you bish,” he slurred. He wobbled to the point where I could have pushed him over.
Derek stepped between me and Chuck, pulling me snugly against his side. “Why don’t you go sleep it off?” His insistent tone made it clear he wasn’t merely asking. This was why Derek was the best kind of friend. He wasn’t a fan of violence, but you would never know it when it came to Cameo and me. Back home, I had always been the protector when it came to my friends. It was kind of nice to have a knight in shining armor. Not necessary, but still sweet. I found it endearing that even though he’d only known me for a year, he acted like we were lifelong friends. Derek was a perk that came with Cameo picking me to be her roommate last year. When I had transferred to Maine State, I knew I didn’t want to do the whole dorm thing. Living at home my first two years of college made me yearn for more independence. I wanted to let loose without so many restrictions. Living in an apartment with Cameo had provided the freedom I was looking for, and sharing her best friend, Derek, sweetened the deal.
Chuck looked like he wanted to retaliate, but in his drunken state, he was in no shape to attempt anything more. With a shake of his head and a look of bewilderment in my direction, he staggered off, scratching his junk the entire time.
“Honey, you sure can pick ’em,” Derek said, shaking his head with amazement before turning away from the train wreck to Cameo, who’d returned with a drink.
“You’re a fine one to talk,” I pointed out, punching him in his bicep. If it seemed like I was being picky at the moment when it came to guys, Derek
was even worse. He claimed he didn’t feel like wasting time on meaningless relationships. I think he missed the memo on what college dating was supposed to be.
“I’m searching for someone who understands me,” he said dramatically, making us laugh. “Speaking of which, hello, Clark Kent,” he added, looking toward the front door. “He looks like he could understand everything I have to offer.”
Cameo and I pivoted around to see who had managed to snag Derek’s attention. He could be a bit of a snob when it came to man-candy. Anyone who caught his eye had to be worth seeing.
“Oh, hell no,” I muttered under my breath. He was the last person I expected to see at a party like this.
2.
“I know him.”
“What? You bitch, you’ve been holding out on me,” Cameo said, giving a low whistle under her breath.
“Really? We’re construction workers now?” I said.
“Honey, sometimes an appreciative whistle is necessary,” Derek answered as he straightened his shirt and smoothed a hand over his hair.
“Hit the brakes, lollipop. That’s Trent, a guy I know from Woodfalls. Trust me. He’s as straight as they come.”
“Woo-hoo!” Cameo shouted, adjusting her top so her small but perky breasts were more visible.