Dale is about to say something else—who knows? Maybe they’re going to produce a yardstick to measure dicks—when Leela saves the night.
The crowd gathered outside parts like the Red Sea.“What in the sweaty Sam Hill is going on out here, Dale?” Leela is hopping mad.
I open my mouth to explain things, even though I don’t what to say. I feel as if I’ve already brought enough trouble into her life, with her father, Mr. Gamble, spending all of his time on my dad’s case.
Insecurity pulses through me as I look at her and think about how to handle this current situation. Am I going to tell Leela it’s my fault that this happened? I invited a friend who couldn’t mind his manners. And I know the blame didn’t entirely fall on him, either. I know Dale had plenty to do with provoking Titus.
But before a single word can leave my mouth, Titus steps in.
“It’s my fault, ma’am. I lost my temper, and I apologize. To you.” Titus nods humbly at Leela, who looks from him to me, then back to Titus. She looks him up and down, assessing his character. She has a way of figuring people out pretty quickly and deciding whether she trusts a single word coming out of their mouths.
Leela then focuses on Dale, who looks like he’s on his high horse while also dabbing coagulated blood from his nose. “And you? I don’t suppose you had anything to do with making someone want to punch you, did you?” Leela asks.
Dale doesn’t respond; instead, he makes a dismissing noise like a cough and a splutter.
“I heard him saying stuff about Cass. I heard the whole thing. That’s what set him off.” The voice that says this is out of nowhere. I turn toward the woman’s voice, and I see Meghan standing there, one hand on her hip, the other clutching a Solo cup. Meghan can be a prickly one.
Based on how she behaved back when Leela and Crosby got together earlier this semester, I assumed she was an even bigger snob than Dale and his ilk. But right now, I want to hug her.
“I don’t want to repeat what he said because it doesn’t matter. Anybody talking trash about our sisters is not welcome here, Dale. I’m going to have to ask you to leave,” Leela proclaims.
Dale shambles down the steps drunkenly. “House full of dick teases. There’s your new slogan, girls.”
The asshole meanders drunkenly down the street with an entourage following, which empties a third of the party.
Leela looks back at me again and gestures with her chin. “Is the gentleman they bounced out your boyfriend, honey?”
I shake my head no. “Titus is just a friend. We grew up together.”
“Titus,” Meghan says, turning her attention to my childhood friend. “Cass is a good girl. She might be president of Beta Beta Psi one day. Hence, I would advise you not to attend any more of our functions. Best to avoid any more concerns about physical altercations.”
I may be worried that Titus will take this as an insult, but my easygoing friend is as simple as always. “Not a problem. I won’t stand in the way of anything Cass wants to do.”
My heart. I wish it wouldn’t gallop whenever Titus says things like that.
“I understand. I’ll take Titus home,” I say to Meghan. “Thank you.”
It might seem strange to thank her for banning Titus from all our future parties. But there’s an understanding here: I won’t have any repercussions.
Meghan nods, and Leela gives me a subtle wink, then sways back across the porch, her massive boyfriend, Crosby, not far behind her.
I watch them for a second too long and notice how he places his hand on her lower back to guide her through the door. Once inside, I see him press a kiss to her forehead, and she leans into it.
My mouth goes dry. Gosh, that looks nice.
I could have that. I’ve had many, many opportunities to have that.
“I can get myself home just fine,” says the man who is unknowingly the sole reason I can’t have a proper relationship with anyone.
I spin around to look at Titus, whose hand is covering his ribs on his right side.
“Don’t be stupid. I’ll drive your truck home and get a taxi or something.”
“You haven’t been drinking?” Titus asks.
I shake my head and tell him no. “I don’t drink at parties with men. I don’t enjoy being drunk, and I also don’t like how these men behave when they see me take so much as a sip of wine. It makes me uneasy.”
He limps along to the gated parking area behind Beta house. I’m tall enough that my shoulder fits nicely under Titus’s armpit, so my body can act as a crutch. I’m not going to lie; I like the way this feels. The man’s injuries notwithstanding, my body only knows he’s warm and hard. The contact sends shivers down my spine. I notice the way his hand grips my bare shoulder as we walk. His fingers are calloused from working on small machines with his dad for years. I shouldn’t be thinking about how it would feel if he were to slide those rough fingers downward, over my shoulder blade, skimming down my side boob under the fabric of my dress.