CHAPTER eight
Now was a good time for Ethan to wander off. He ventured back to the kitchen, refilled his cup of jungle juice, and headed into the couch area. He wouldn’t dare sit by himself. That was social suicide. He stood against the wall by the makeshift dance floor as kids grinded to the music. Ethan had a vision of him dancing with them; he could feel the music pulsing through him. His toe tapped. His hips swayed side to side.
He stayed up against the wall. You can’t dance by yourself, he thought. He could chug sixteen cups of jungle juice, but that’s one thing he would never do.
“You should get out there.” A kid in a backward cap with black hair spiking out sidled up next to him. He wore baggier jeans and a shirt, bucking the tighter-is-better trend.
“I’m fine.”
“You having fun?” he yelled into Ethan’s ear.
“Yeah.”
Preston and Blake shimmied onto the floor, greeted by the others. Their bodies smooshed together like a peanut-butter-and-jelly sandwich. Not a molecule of air could get between them. They kissed and swayed much slower than the dance beat. They didn’t seem to care.
Was this the Preston that Ethan knew? Ethan got the sense that he hadn’t been asked here on a date once Preston sunk his first ping pong ball. But still, Preston was his clean-cut crush. He was studying comparative literature. Now he was grinding on a makeshift dance floor. Had Preston always been like this? Was he the kind of guy to get drunk and dry hump at a party? It took someone like Blake—not Ethan—to bring it out of him.
“You got it bad.”
It was the kid next to him. Ethan was caught off-guard. “Excuse me?”
“Preston.”
“What about him?”
“You like him.” The kid sucked in a breath and shook his head. “You got it bad. Word of advice, it’s impolite to watch other people suck face.”
Ethan looked away, focusing his attention on the kid next to him. He couldn’t be all bad since he was talking to Ethan. That was more than anyone else here. The alcohol kicked back in and surged throughout him.
“I really liked him!” The music hid his yell. “I don’t get it. We came here together. He said I looked good in this outfit.”
“Dude, can I give you some blunt advice?” He had soft features and a genuine look in his eyes from what Ethan’s fuzzy vision could tell.
“Sure. What’s your advice?” He didn’t care at this point. The night had turned into a disaster. He needed to talk to someone.
“You’re boring.”
“What?” Ethan didn’t know how to react. Who says that?
“No offense, dude.”
“I think I’m going to take offense to that one. I’m not boring.” Ethan took another hearty sip of his drink. The kid was drinking beer, and it just made Ethan think of beer pong.
Don’t look at them.
“Maybe boring is the wrong word,” he said. “But I saw you hanging with Preston by the beer pong game earlier. You just seemed so…stiff.”
“This is my first gay party.”
“Did you just come out?”
He bit his lip. He was too drunk and too angry to lie. “No.”
The kid took a sip of his beer.
“I was nervous! I didn’t know if we were on a date or not.”
“Even so, you weren’t saying much. Your body language was like a nun. You were like a fun vortex. No offense.”
“You can’t just say that whenever you want to be mean.” Ethan didn’t leave. He didn’t like the abuse, but he was always so curious how he looked to others. It was rare to get a third-person point of view of yourself.
“I’m sorry. Seriously.” He took a sip of his beer. “You just gotta loosen up.”
“And be like Blake?”
“Who’s Blake?”
“The guy making out with my date.” And now Ethan looked again. Yep. They were still going at it.
“Forget them. You just need to have some fun.”
“I know how to have fun.”
“I’m talking about real fun, the kind where you’re laughing for no reason.”
When Ethan thought about it, though, when was the last time he had had real fun? College was supposed to be a party. For him, it’d been more of a dinner party.
“Easier said than done,” Ethan said.
“Not really. Shake some shit up.” The kid clamped Ethan’s arms and shook. It was a good thing Ethan had drank all of his jungle juice already.
Ethan glanced at the guy, noticed that he was actually kind of cute. Ethan had only kissed one guy before, and it had been an awkward experience. Pleasurable only because it happened, not because the actual act had been great. Maybe now was the time to start having fun.
In a move that rocked Ethan’s insides with nerves, he stroked the guy’s hairless arm up and down with his finger. “Do you wanna dance?”
“You’re not my type.” The kid peered down, and it was then that Ethan noticed his breasts. And his delicate cheekbones with complete lack of stubble.
“Sorry,” Ethan said.
“I’ll take it as a compliment,” she said.
Φ
Ethan didn’t wait for Preston. He had slightly more social acumen and self-respect than that. On his walk home, alone, he gritted his teeth and clenched his fists, daring a mugger to attack him in this state.
He had one of those life epiphanies that usually came from terrible experiences such as this. Ethan had always believed that he was just quiet and shy, that his real personality would shine once people got to know him.
Nope.
He had been quiet and shy in high school, too. He’d opted for blending in and not causing a blip on anyone’s radar rather than expose his true, gay self. He was convinced, though, that once he came out in college, it would all be different.
Nope.
Because here he was, alone on a Friday night, history having a good laugh at repeating itself. He wasn’t quiet or shy, he realized. He was officially boring. He’d never had a shot with Preston.
Ethan sulked down Susquehanna Avenue, passing North Campus. A cacophony of thumping bass and conversation seeped out of the quad. I could be fun, Ethan thought. He knew it was inside him; he didn’t know why he couldn’t be the same person in his head and in the real world. When something was locked away for so long, apparently you forgot the combination.
But it had to change. I have to change.