Undeclared (The Woodlands) Page 4

  “Oh my God, why didn’t you say anything?” I turned to her in distress. “It’s not all about me, you know.”

  “You had the Noah thing, and it’s all rumors right now. I don’t want to get worked up over nothing.”

  “Are you going to ask him about it?” I asked. “I’ve been waiting for an excuse to kick his ass.”

  “I know you have.” She dabbed her lips with some lip-gloss, whatever feelings she had about the rumors not showing on her face. Lana and I were true opposites.

  “I don’t think he treats you right. He’s always making plans and then breaking them at the last minute, and his fraternity seems more important than you,” I pointed out.

  “Eh. I can’t always expect him to be at my beck and call.”

  If I had unrealistically high expectations of guys, Lana’s expectations were way too low. She basically required them to breathe and know her name. But maybe when you didn’t expect much out of them, you didn’t get disappointed.

  “The cure for one man is another,” I reminded her.

  She pinned on a big smile, which might have been fake or real, and said, “Yup. Let’s go find our cures, then.”

  ***

  By the time we got to the fraternity house, the party was in full swing. You could hear the music from the end of the street, and it only got louder as we approached. Other houses appeared to be hosting smaller parties, but the crowd around the Delta Tau Delta House was already straining the structure.

  The guys at the door seemed to know Lana and nodded as we passed through, not even glancing at the list attached to a clipboard. I think one of them trailed a finger down my spine, but I wasn’t sure. I didn’t dare look back to verify.

  There were tons of people inside the house and dozens more in the backyard. Two kegs were set up on a back patio and some guys were doing keg stands. Being held upside down by your legs while someone pours beer right into your mouth seemed like a quick way to be sent to the vomitorium. I stood and watched for a minute; it was such a spectacle.

  Someone else was doing beer bongs from a second-story window. When one girl tried it, the beer came out her nose and mouth. Everyone jeered, but she seemed unfazed. Her pregame drinking must have been hardcore.

  Lana grabbed my hand and I grabbed Amy’s. The three of us linked together and threaded our way to the dimly lit kitchen in the back. A makeshift bar had been created by placing a plywood board on cinder blocks, and we were offered keg beer, the good kind. Lana refused and instead waved a guy over to her.

  She whispered something in his ear and he returned with three bottles that he opened right in front of her. Smart rules for drinking at a house party included always being present when your glass was filled or your bottle opened.

  Lana passed around bottles. As we turned to leave, the guy grabbed Lana’s arm and leaned down, saying something to her that I couldn’t hear over the din of the music, laughter, and general talking.

  I watched as his hand that held the bottle opener curled around her side. Lana didn’t move away, and I wondered if maybe this guy was her cure for the night.

  I didn’t recognize him, but his ease in the kitchen spoke of familiarity in the fraternity. He must have lived in the house because, before I knew it, we proceeded in a line upstairs and into a bedroom at the end of the hall.

  The doors were almost all closed except another one at the end of the hall that looked to be a bathroom. At the sound of our steps, the door slammed closed from the inside. Occupied, apparently.

  Lana introduced our beer supplier as Jack and closed the door behind us once we had all trooped inside. “Jack the president?” I mouthed to Lana as Jack’s back was turned. She grinned and waved her hand in front of her face. This time I understood that she meant hot. He was nice looking. He had that easy movement I associated with athletes, but his body wasn’t overly developed.

  Jack gestured for us to sit. I looked around. The room had two beds on either side of a large coffee table but no chairs, except two that were stationed in front of identical desks at the far end of the room.

  Jack and Lana sat down on one bed and Amy and I sat on the other. Jack proceeded to pull out a bottle from under his bed and then revealed lime wedges and a saltshaker in his hands.

  Oh no, tequila shots? I didn’t think I was ready for this. Lana rubbed her hands together, and Amy bounced on the bed with little squeak of excitement. I looked at the bottle with dread. I was already in a sucktastic mood and doing tequila shots wasn’t going to lift my spirits. Chances were, with my luck, I’d probably start sobbing in this strange boy’s lap.

  “I’m going to sit this out, Lana,” I told her. “I’m afraid I’ll get sick and then I’ll be the worst party pooper ever. Not to mention the fact that I’ll probably ruin my new blouse.”

  “Are you sure, Grace? I’ll come downstairs with you,” Lana offered immediately.

  “Go downstairs and sit in the second windowsill on the right side,” Jack instructed. It was clear he didn’t want Lana going anywhere. “It’s got a deep sill and you can enjoy the party without being crushed. If someone is there, go to the kitchen and grab a pledge. They’ll have a green wristband. Tell him Jack said that seat is reserved for you.”

  “Thanks.” I closed the door behind me, grateful to get out of that room.

  I went downstairs and sought out the second window well. It was occupied by two guys with green wristbands. I repeated what Jack had said, and the two jumped up like he was there giving the order personally. It was good to be president, I guess. One even offered to get me another beer, but I turned him down.

  The window maybe wasn’t the best place for me to sit given my backless top. Lana was right about the shirt attracting a lot of attention. After sitting there for just a few minutes, more than one cold beer bottle had been dragged down my exposed spine. My shivers were definitely the result of the chill and not excitement.

  If I was interested in a hookup, this would be the place to find one. There were people of both sexes scoping each other out, flirting, and engaging in pre-mating behavior on the dance floor. It made for excellent people-watching, if nothing else.

  “Mind if I sit here?” a voice asked. I looked up and saw a curly-haired guy with broad shoulders smiling down at me.

  “Not at all,” I scooted over. He sat down in the sill, sideways, one leg drawn up and the other stabilizing him on the floor.

  “Kyle Briggs,” He offered his hand.

  “Grace Sullivan,” I clasped his hand and shook it once but he didn’t let it go.

  “Haven’t I seen you in my Poli Sci class?” Kyle asked, still holding my hand in his. I wriggled my fingers a little and he released me.

  “Don’t think so,” I shook my head. I didn’t remember him from class. Granted we had only had six of them so far. I knotted my fingers together on my lap so he wouldn’t find an excuse to hold them, but that was a mistake, because he just placed his large hand over both of mine. Either he was coming on to me or he was super touchy. Both made me feel uncomfortable. He leaned closer and I could smell the yeast from the beer on his breath. I was trying not to feel overwhelmed, but it was difficult.

  “I’ve seen you somewhere, though, and it bugs me that I can’t remember where because I almost always remember the good-looking ones.”

  “Do you always use bad pick-up lines or just when you’re drunk?”

  “You’re going to make me work for it,” Kyle nodded to himself. “I like that in a girl.”

  I tried to move backward but was blocked by the window frame. Unfortunately, I couldn’t stand up with this Kyle guy pressing his considerable weight onto my hands. He took my reply as a challenge; I could see it in his eyes. He thought I was flirting with him and was probably too intoxicated at this point to see a difference between the girl wanting to get away and the girl trying to get in his pants.

  I pushed my hands upward, not wanting to leave his big sweaty palm lying across my skirt, close to the juncture of my thigh
s. “Listen, Griggs, I don’t think my boyfriend would want me sitting so close to you.” Josh had taught me to never insult a drunken guy, because you didn’t know if he was a mean drunk or a happy one. Just try to compliment your way out of a negative situation. Saying I had a boyfriend was an inoffensive way of making sure that Kyle would not be offended by my lack of interest.

  Unfortunately, Kyle was denser or drunker than I thought because he only grabbed my hands in his and drew me closer. His other arm came to rest around my back. “Oh ho ho,” he cried when his hand met my bare back. I froze and arched away from his hand, but this only pressed me closer to his chest wall. This was going to get ugly if I had to struggle to get away.

  The window, which seemed like a promising escape from the crowd, now turned into a prison, and I was boxed in. I looked around frantically for Amy or Lana, but could see almost no one’s face. It was just a mass of legs.

  “Let go. I’m not interested.” The time for soft, deterring compliments was past now. I tugged on my hands and tried to slide sideways, but he threw out a leg to forestall that movement. His face came close to mine.

  “You don’t need to play hard to get,” he said. “I’m yours for the taking.”

  “I’m not interested,” I repeated firmly. “Let me go, or I’ll make a scene.”

  “I’ll make one for you.” I heard another, familiar voice above me. I looked up at Noah’s face and nearly cried with relief.

  Kyle wasn’t quick enough to realize he was in jeopardy and instead said, “Shove off, man, I’ve tagged this one.”

  Noah reached down and in one motion pulled Kyle’s hand off mine and me to his side. “She’s not a deer.” His voice was flat, but I could feel the rigidity in his body. While I wasn’t a psych major like Lana, even I could read anger in Noah’s stance.

  Kyle stood and held up his hands. “Hey man, she was coming on to me.”

  Noah speared him with a glance, and it must have penetrated because Kyle turned on his heel and left.

  The little scene went by almost unnoticed. The crowd kept on dancing and drinking. I felt unbalanced, though, and sat clumsily back down on the windowsill.

  Noah remained standing, towering over me. He had definitely kept up with an exercise routine since he got out. Even through the cotton of his dark T-shirt and the dim light in the room, I could make out the definition of his chest muscles. The skin was taut across his high cheekbones, and his eyes were dark and piercing. I felt more exposed under his stare than when I had first donned this backless top.

  Anger and resentment began to well up in me, and I wanted to throw a beer bottle straight at his face and mar the perfect handsomeness. Although, as I stared at him more closely, I realized he had a bruise forming under his right eye. I wonder if he had fought tonight and with whom. I wanted to know everything, a whole two years of everything. I bit my tongue to keep the questions inside.

  Maybe he was white-knighting himself at all of the campus parties, choosing which damsel he would take home. But it wouldn’t be me. I couldn’t place my heart in jeopardy again. An entire year had been lost while I tried to deal with conflicting feelings of sorrow at the loss of him in my life, humiliation at believing he could love me, and anger that he had strung me along. I didn’t know why he was here. While not knowing was terrifying, I didn’t want to suffer more rejection at the hands of Noah Jackson.

  I rose. The party was losing its appeal. I should run up to the fourth floor and take a quick picture with my phone and then go home and block out placement for the Alphi Phi photo. But mostly, I felt like going home. I tried brushing by Noah but he caught me by the arm.

  “I’ve been waiting for you to call me.” Impatience was etched on his face.

  “You’ll wait a long time, then, because I threw your number away.”

  “Will you give me a chance to explain?” He rubbed a hand through his hair and settled it at the back of his neck. He leaned forward. “Can we get out of here?”

  “You had a chance. You had two years of chances. I don’t know why you’re here, but it has nothing to do with me.” I tried to leave again, but the hand on my arm was immovable. He wasn’t hurting me, but he wouldn’t let me go either. I was never sitting in a window again.

  “It has everything to do with you,” he said, his face intense, leaning down to make sure I heard him. An involuntary warmth began to spread through my body, and I tried to beat it back.

  “Really? I don’t believe you.” I knew I sounded petulant, but I didn’t care. I just wanted out of there before I let him convince me otherwise. I suspected that if I gave him enough time, Noah could get me to believe pretty much anything.

  “I know,” he replied. He sounded frustrated, and I could feel myself weakening again.

  We stood there, staring at each other. The crowd of people streamed past us, now just streaks of color caught on low-speed film.

  While the crowd had felt oppressive before, it now seemed a safe harbor. Within the mass of people, perhaps I could lose Noah or, even more importantly, myself. I just wasn’t equipped right now to deal with him. Since my previous attempts at disengagement had been unsuccessful, I tried a different tactic.

  “I can’t deal with this now.”

  “When, then?”

  I felt like I was being interrogated, and the sense of injustice threatened to choke me. I wasn’t the one in the wrong. I should be asking the questions, setting the limits, defining our boundaries.

  “I don’t know. Two years from now,” I said. Snideness creeping into my tone. Probably a guy who looked like him and kept a girl on the line for four years expected her to lie down and beg to be walked over. I looked down pointedly at his hand still encircling my arm. “You can let go anytime now.”

  He released me immediately, and I headed for the stairs to collect Lana or maybe drink myself into oblivion with tequila shots.

  I felt Noah’s body heat behind mine. He wasn’t going anywhere. But I could ignore him.

  But a clearly tipsy Lana and an every drunker Amy were coming down the stairs as I reached the first landing. Jack was nowhere to be seen. New plan.

  “You two ready to go?” I asked. Lana was wide-eyed and mouthed, “he’s right behind you” to me. Correction—Lana wasn’t tipsy. She was drunk.

  “I know,” I said, “and you aren’t invisible to him. I’m sure he can see you.”

  “Yup,” Noah affirmed.

  “Oh no!” Lana said. “What about your cure?”

  “Are you sick?” Noah asked, coming up to the landing, and looking at me intently.

  “Not that kind of cure, silly,” Lana said before I could open my mouth. She was feeling no pain. She stumbled down the stairs dragging Amy behind her. “Cure for heartache.” Thanks Lana, I thought, as if I hadn’t been humiliated enough before.

  “I’ll drive y’all home,” Noah said. “My truck is out front.”

  “You can’t park on the street,” Lana said, poking one long fingernail into his chest. When her poke found no purchase, she began patting. “Wow, this is like marble. Amy,” Lana turned and held up their joined hands, “feel this.” At which point both girls proceeded to pat Noah’s apparently very hard chest.

  He, at least, had the grace to look embarrassed by this. I had to hustle Lana out before her drunken state revealed something even more humiliating, although at this point, I wasn’t sure what that could be.

  I pulled their hands down. “Come on, let’s go.”

  Lana tugged back. “No, there’s another house party over on Forest. Let’s go there.”

  This night was fast becoming a farce. I couldn’t shake Noah. I couldn’t get Lana to come home with me. Part of me wanted to just sit down on the floor and cry like a toddler, but I had already done that earlier today.

  I let out a frustrated breath. “Where’s Jack?”

  Lana and Amy turned in unison to look up the stairs. We all waited for a heartbeat but the upstairs hall remained empty. No help from that quarter.r />
  “My big sister is at the party on Forest,” Amy offered. To the Forest party it was, then. Amy’s big sister in the sorority could watch over them.

  I turned to Noah. “Guess we’re taking you up on the ride offer.”

  He nodded and didn’t smile like he had won, which made the situation only slightly more acceptable. As we walked behind him, I noticed how the crowd just seemed to melt away from us, like he was Moses parting the Red Sea.

  Outside, Noah stopped briefly beside the blond guy I’d seen with him in the library, who was now talking to three girls. This must be the infamous Bo Randolph. Noah didn’t introduce us, though, and instead shepherded us toward his truck sitting in the driveway of the fraternity.

  I’m not sure how long the vehicle had been there, and its presence surprised me. “Are you a Delt?” Only members of the fraternity got to park in the driveway.

  “No,” Noah shook his head. “Just know someone.”

  He opened the passenger side doors and helped all of us into his dual cab pickup.

  “There’s a lot of space in here.” I had never ridden in a pickup before and was surprised at how roomy it was. The vehicle smelled new.

  “You just get this?” I asked him as he climbed into the driver’s seat.

  “Smell give it away?” He honked twice to get a couple of people to move out of the driveway and then backed up.

  “Hard to hide that new car smell.”

  “I got it this summer. Bo told me he was done ferrying my ass around,” Noah said. I remembered Noah telling me once that they were always being counseled to not spend their entire earnings on a new car or a motorcycle or a boat when they were back on leave or just returned from deployment. Noah must have listened to them.

  “So you didn’t spend all your money on new wheels the moment you separated?”

  “Nope, had other plans.”

  I refrained from taking the bait to ask more information, even though I was dying for it. After a few beats of silence, Noah said, “Not going to ask me about my other plans?”