Everyone is much more intelligent, charming, and far wittier than I am. I’m getting solo shitfaced on someone’s couch that I do not know. Am I, in reality, an introvert? Or just boring as shit?
I am questioning everything I thought I knew. Were the Treadways simply too nice to tell me to shut the fuck up and go home? Or were they a bit dense and had no idea I was not all that funny?
I stand up from the couch and decide to wander around this party, looking for someone, anyone, to talk to.
In doing so, I listen in on a few conversations I probably shouldn’t and find myself wishing Herc was available instead of hanging out by the beer keg, getting pawed by half a dozen of Cass’s sorority sisters.
I know Cass is here somewhere. She pledged for Beta Beta Psi, much to the surprise of her brother, but no surprise to me. In high school, Cass was always the girl supporting the school. A cheerleader and captain of the dance team. Or cheer team. I can’t keep it straight. If it was a happy-clappy sort of activity, Cass was involved. So it comes as no surprise that she would join a sorority and that they would welcome her with open arms.
Cass has always had a crowd around her. Guys, girls, everyone. There was a time when I thought I might like to ask her out, but she was always busy. In the daytime, she and I would shoot the shit with Herc, sometimes play tennis or get up to no good. At night, she went out on group dates with her cheerleading squad, tennis team, or people from any number of other clubs she was involved in. Cass was into anything and everything and, from what I could tell, wasn’t deeply committed to any particular friendship. She had casual friends. But it was her mom, dad, and Herc, she confided in.
She had no best friends at school; it seemed to me. That was another reason I decided not to ask her out. That fact made me worry she wasn’t ready for a dating relationship.
I suppose it was a good thing that I had hesitated. If I asked her out, if I ever told her I thought she was cute, she’d probably invite me out on one of those group dates, which seems like torture to me.
Even if she were willing to go on a date with me, what then? We’d have to stay together and get married, or I would risk losing my friendship with Herc. With both of them. I just won’t do that.
As I ponder this and wander around this dumb party, I see something that sucks all the breath out of my lungs.
In a dress cut so low that I’m confident that if I looked down the neckline, I could see her toes. Cass floats down the foyer stairs. She’s draped in soft pink material that skims over every curve, moving with every sway of her hips.
Yes, I already know she’s a grown woman.
And sure, I’ve seen her in plenty of short skirts before. The girl used to live in her cheerleader uniform and tennis skirt.
But tonight…her tanned legs look ten feet long in those high heels. How…how does she even walk in those?
Her hair falls around her shoulders in soft, shiny curls, and her pouty lips shimmer with gloss. Cass is strong and thick and made entirely of curves, and everyone can see it. I’m going to burst a blood vessel.
More than usual, this deep-down urge to protect her makes my fingernails dig into my palms as I ball my fists.
Someone nudges me. I look over, and some tall smarmy dude in a bow tie nods in Cass’s direction. “Fresh meat is the cutest, right?” The guy downs about half his beer and then gestures with his can of Natty Light. “Be careful. She’s a fuckin’ tease.”
I’ve never been sure what hackles are, but if I have any, they are up all over my damn body. “Excuse me?”
The guy belches wetly, and I can see in his eyes that he’s half wasted. To be fair, so am I.
At my perplexed expression, he chuckles and says, “I asked her out once, and she insisted we go on a double date with one of her sorority sisters. Okay. Fine. I thought I had a shot when she showed up wearing these tight-ass shorts, sexy as hell. But that girl wouldn’t even let me kiss her goodnight. You dress like that; it’s mixed signals, right?” Again, he burps, and I think I’m going to be sick, not just from his breath of cheap beer and Funyuns. I’m not a big fan of this girl dressing like this around other college guys, but I’m not going to stand here and put up with him saying shit like that.
And then I do the last thing I should ever do when invited as a guest to someone’s Greek life party. I get right in his face. The asshat’s about three inches taller than me, but I’m pretty sure I can outrun him if I need to.
“Bro, what?”
I growl, “I ain’t your bro, Chad.”
We are almost nose to nose or nose to chin. My heart races, and my hands sweat. What the hell am I doing? I’ve never been in a fistfight, but I might just be about to get into one.
“She can dress however she wants. So shut your ignorant mouth.”
The guy takes a step back and blinks several times, likely trying to focus.
“Who the fuck are you?”
“Titus. You’ll remember that name every time you look in the mirror, missing the days before your nose got busted.”
“Well, Tight-Ass,” he says, cackling with his eyes closed like he’s just come up with a nickname I’ve never heard before, “do you have any idea who you are talking to?”
“I don’t care if you’re the college president; you don’t talk about a woman that way.”