CHAPTER seven
He had narrowed it down to three shirts. They were laid out on his bed, and Ethan examined them as if they were precious works of art. He already had a pair of jeans lined up: his dark, skinny leg jeans that could pass as costing twice as much as they actually did. They would make him appear tall and slender from the waist down. Now he had to find the right shirt to accomplish that for the top half of him.
Did he want to be the relaxed guy in a gingham-patterned button down? Fun and flirty in a T-shirt? Or fratty and reserved in a polo?
A knock at the door broke his concentration. Jessica peeked her head inside, her very long hair making an entrance before her.
“We’re going to the student union to see the three-dollar movie tonight. Want to come?”
For a second, Ethan wondered what she would’ve said if he suggested alternate plans. But this time, he had a different answer. “Actually, I’m going out.”
“Oh? Where?”
“Preston and I are going to this house party,” he said. “It’s being thrown by the LGBT group.” He made sure to add that last part so she wouldn’t feel left out.
Jessica’s lips twitched together, and she nodded slowly. “I didn’t know you guys were going.”
“Preston just asked me yesterday.”
She stepped fully into his room. “Like a date?”
Ethan blushed. He didn’t have an answer. His gut was telling him no, that Preston was too suave to bring him to a house party as a date. But his heart made him reach for the stars and convinced him that the party was merely part one of their evening together.
“I don’t know.”
“Do you like Preston? Like-like him?”
Ethan told himself to keep this private. Preston was a mutual friend, and Jessica was one of those girls who loved to play matchmaker, yet had a poor track record.
“We’re just going as friends, I think. If we get drunk, then who knows?” He laughed at that last point. Jessica did not.
“I think it’s great you’re going to this party, but don’t be one of those idiots who gets wasted just because everyone else is.” Her voice had a touch of worry in it.
“I’ll be fine.” Ethan waved off her comment. “Maybe I’ll have a drink or two, but I won’t get alcohol poisoning or anything like that.” The embarrassment of being taken out of a party via ambulance was enough to stop him from drinking that much. “That only happens to like one kid a year. I’m just going to have fun.”
Jessica didn’t leave. She crossed her arms tight across her chest. “Be careful. Don’t do anything stupid.”
Ethan sat down at his desk chair. “Are you okay?” She had never been this serious with him.
“Yeah,” she said.
Ethan gave her an awkward smile. He’d thought she would be happy that he was getting out, having fun, meeting other gays, potentially hooking up with Preston. He knew she wasn’t into frat parties, but she’d never seemed against all parties.
“You should wear the T-shirt. You look good in it,” she said and opened the door. “Have fun tonight.”
Φ
Is this a date or just a friend thing?
The realist within Ethan said the latter, but the optimist said the former. No matter how small his chances, Ethan chose to lean toward hope.
Preston lived on the top floor of a big, blue house, complete with balcony, and Ethan liked to imagine he’d charmed his way into such a find.
He texted that he was downstairs, and his heart stopped when Preston opened the door. He looked so freaking cute in his button-down shirt tucked into jeans. So clean-cut. Ethan couldn’t wait to enter the party with him.
“You look good. I like the T-shirt,” Preston said, and the moon twinkled in his eyes. Ethan could’ve died right then and there.
“Thanks.” Luckily, the night hid some of Ethan’s blushing. “Am I underdressed?”
“Not at all. I’m probably overdressed.”
Ethan shook his head no. Now was the time to say how amazing Preston looked, but the words wouldn’t budge. It was like being stuffed up, yet unable to blow your nose.
Preston shut the door behind him. “Let’s go. The party should be in full swing by the time we get there.”
Φ
It still amazed Ethan that college life didn’t get started until at least ten-thirty. Even club meetings during the week were called for nine or even ten o’clock. He’d always gone to bed by ten when he was in high school, but now one in the morning was early for him.
On the way over, Preston did most of the talking. He mentioned who would be at the party and who were some of the social heavy-hitters within the LGBT sphere. Preston knew them all. He knew everyone. Ethan couldn’t wait to be introduced around, and Preston was excited to bring Ethan to his first LGBT party. This was a match made in heaven.
Ethan could hear the bass thumping and the cacophony of conversation as they walked up to the house. Every nook and cranny was crammed with kids. Ethan recognized a bunch, but there were still so many who were completely new to him. It reminded him how big and small Browerton could feel at the same time. They got eyed by nearly every guy in there as they meandered through the path to the kitchen.
“Drinks first,” Preston said. Ethan didn’t argue with that. He could use some liquid courage, despite Jessica’s protestations.
It was easier to hear in the kitchen, and Ethan picked up bits of conversation as he waited for his drink. Preston filled up two Solo cups with jungle juice.
“What’s in it?” Ethan asked him.
Preston smiled. “All the good stuff.” They toasted cups.
That was answer enough for Ethan. He downed a sip. It was basically lots of different fruit juices and something alcohol. The sweetness helped make the whole thing go down smoothly. That, and drinking the same drink as Preston.
Preston greeted and hugged a guy in a rainbow flag T-shirt. “This is Ethan,” he told the guy, his hand on Ethan’s back for a second. “This is his first LGBT party.”
Ethan blushed. A part of him was embarrassed that this was his first LGBT event, that it had taken him so long, considering he wasn’t some preacher’s son shaking in the closet. But mostly, Preston introduced him to someone! He hadn’t needed to touch Ethan’s back when he did it, either. He was with Preston—at the party, at least.
He needed a plan for the rest of the night, possibly one that involved getting drunk. They didn’t call it liquid courage for nothing. Sorry, Jessica.
“Whoa. Go, Ethan!” Preston said as Ethan downed the last sip of jungle juice. He went to the cooler to refill his cup.
“When in Rome.” Ethan clinked his cup to Preston’s. Did that count as flirting? Either way, Ethan had said something semi-cool that Preston had liked and reacted to positively. In the simplest terms, woohoo!
“Let’s go in the other room,” Preston said.
“Into the belly of the beast!” Maybe that was too much.
They squeezed their way into the main living/dining room area. Clusters of kids hung by the walls and couches, leaving the center of the room almost empty, like the eye of the storm. People were wallflowers at heart. Or at least he was.
“Thanks for inviting me here. This is a lot of fun,” Ethan said. They staked out a position next to the beer pong table. Perfect. He could talk whenever he thought of something cool, and then they could watch the game during lulls.
Another pair of guys came by to say hi to Preston—and Ethan by extension. Then a girl rubbed Preston’s shoulders. It shouldn’t have surprised Ethan that Preston was well-liked in these parts. He was adorable and charismatic in the regular world; in a house of gay men and women, he was the prized possession. And he was standing with Ethan, ready to talk. Ethan needed to step it up. The time was now.
“So how do you know all these people?” Ethan asked.
Preston shrugged. “Around. I don’t know. I’ve been involved with LGBT stuff, gotten to know people. Everyone’s very friendly.”
“Yeah. They seem it.”
“I’m glad you’re having fun.”
“Thanks.” Luckily it was dark so Preston couldn’t see how red Ethan’s face got. Or was that the jungle juice?
Ethan loved looking at Preston in this light. Different-colored screens had been placed over the track lighting. Everyone had a colorful glow, hiding all their flaws. Preston’s skin seemed extra-soft. The stubble on his cheek was illuminated.
Where were the witty lines of before? Ethan wondered. The alcohol made him giggly, but his brain remained stiff, unwilling to take a chill pill so he could have great conversation. Every time he tried to say something remotely witty, his brain shut it down. Not good enough. They watched the beer pong game. A team of two skinny boys in jeans that made Ethan’s look like sweatpants were on the verge of losing.
“So are all LGBT parties wild like this?” Ethan asked. He wondered if dropping the word “wild” in conversation would subliminally make Preston think he had an edge.
“I wouldn’t say it’s wild. Just packed.”
He should have a great comeback for that. Something funny. More use of the word wild, maybe sexy.
But nothing.
Ethan was forced to bring up the one topic he really didn’t want to. It was his last hope.
“So I forget, what’s your major?”
Preston sipped some jungle juice. Ethan took a gulp. “Comparative literature.”
“Cool. How do you like it?”
“It’s good.”
Someone reached out and grabbed Preston’s wrist. Ethan saw a string of rainbow-colored bracelets. The grabby hand belonged to one of the tight-jeaned skinny boys, his hair meticulously mussed and gelled into place.
“Preston, I need some back up here.” He turned to the winning team. “Best out of three!”
“What happened to Zeke?” Preston asked.
“He has no aim. It’s a good thing you don’t have to share a bathroom with him.” The kid rubbed Preston’s forearm, brushing his fingers through Preston’s blond arm hairs. Ethan’s chest tightened. “C’mon, Preston. You know how to handle balls like no one else.”
Ethan sincerely hoped he was joking, but Preston’s laughter beat into Ethan’s chest like a hammer.
“Blake, this is Ethan.”
The kid shook Ethan’s hand, but his eyes remained fixed on Preston. “Nice to meet you.”
“It’s my first LGBT party!” Ethan said, as if that made a difference with anything.
Blake gave a wide, fake smile like he was on a talk show. “Preston. I need you. Be my beer pong partner.”
“I don’t know. I’m drinking jungle juice. Beer and liquor.”
“Liquor before beer. You’re in the clear. Besides, with your million-dollar arm, we’re not going to be drinking anything.” Blake’s hand continued stroking Preston’s forearm.
Ethan also noticed that Preston didn’t move said forearm.
He stayed mum. He had no idea if he should interject. Plus Blake was such a presence that he didn’t know if he’d be allowed to get a word in edgewise.
“I don’t know,” Preston said. He nodded at Ethan. “Is there room for another player?”
Blake’s eyes flashed onto Ethan, and Ethan didn’t need special lighting or jungle juice to turn red. He had never played beer pong before, and the thought of screwing up in front of Preston terrified him. What if they were on the same team and his poor shooting skills made them lose? Tonight was about being cool, and losing at beer pong did not fit that definition.
“I’m just going to watch.”
“You sure?” Preston asked. Ethan nodded.
Blake clapped his hands together. “Okay then. Let’s go, Pres.”
“I hate when people call me that.”
“I know,” Blake said with a sly smile, one that reminded Ethan of Greg’s stupid grin in class.
Preston lined up the cups, and Blake filled them with beer. Ethan gave them a thumbs-up. He would be their male cheerleader, at the ready with witty commentary.
Unfortunately, no witty commentary came to mind. Ethan didn’t move the entire game. In fact, if a passerby had wanted to know how the game was going, Ethan could’ve given them a complete history of every play. In the beginning, Preston looked over at Ethan with facial reactions—a raised eyebrow, a smile before he was about to throw, a “these guys are crazy” shrug.
But soon, Preston and Blake were losing badly, and Preston’s glances became sporadic rather than automatic. The more they lost, the more they drank. And the more they drank, the more they touched. And the more they touched, the more Ethan drank. Blake leaned his head into Preston. At first, Preston resisted, but maybe the alcohol caught up with him because he wrapped an arm around his teammate.
That could’ve been Ethan, taking advantage of his drunkenness.
Ethan marveled at Blake. He seemed to say or do whatever he thought. Ethan chalked it up to a cry for attention, but he was envious. Blake was the same person inside and out. There wasn’t a mind full of rich inner thoughts he was holding back. As vapid as it made Blake seem, it also made him free.
And it also worked. Once the opposite team sunk the last cup, Preston and Blake shared the last cup of beer. Their bodies remained close, their eyes focused on each other. Ethan could see it coming, gearing up for a solid minute of forced tension, until finally, Preston pulled Blake in for the kiss.