3. Chapter 3

Chapter 3

Wes

This party is bumping.

Gripping a red solo cup in each hand, I hold them high above my head as I weave through the throng of people milling around our team captain’s living room. Besides the school’s lacrosse legend, Maurice O’Brien aka Mighty Mo, Cody Ellsworth is only the second sophomore ever to be voted team captain. Cody was lucky enough to play on the same field as Mo during his final varsity season last year, and just like the all-star attackman who broke the school’s undefeated record with a fifth consecutive championship banner, Cody plans to lead the team to victory once again this season.

The rookie-of-the-year award is typically given to offensive players or goal keepers, yet Cody’s outstanding performance as defenseman managed to claim him the title last year. And as you probably guessed, it is the same trophy Mo won his freshman year. Two outstanding rookies, two sophomore team captains. A recipe for success and one I plan to see through.

Tucking the beers close to my chest, I duck past a groping session and arrive at my destination. I hand one of the beers to Taber’s freshman goalie, otherwise known as Nico Montez, or as I like to think of him, best friend since second grade. He nods in the direction of the couple fumbling against the wall.

“I think we can check off Hunter’s virginity after tonight,” I snort into my drink while Nico holds up his beer in cheer. Other than Nico and me, Hunter is the other newest addition to the team. An awkward but genuinely nice guy, Hunter never had a girlfriend during high school and claims the reason he’s still holding his v-card is because he’s not into hookups. So, unless he met that voluptuous redhead sometime before tonight, his attitude towards hookups has changed.

Ah, nothing like freshmen year to break people out of their comfort zones.

“Taber truly is an educational institution. The place where horny men and women come together to experiment, learn, and grow.” I place the solo cup against my heart in prayer to the alcohol-infused laws of attraction.

Nico laughs and shakes his head, “Glad to see your afternoon tumble didn’t affect your love of theatrics.”

I grin, “Hey, someone’s got to intimidate your boyfriend contenders. If they don’t have my flair, they don’t stand a chance.” Nico rolls his eyes.

“That was one time. How was I to know Brad’s ego wouldn’t be able to stand being your understudy for the sixth-grade play?”

“The fact his name was Brad should have been the first clue,” I chuckle at the memory. Our school’s sixth-grade spring drama production was a sad re-enactment of The Pirates of the Caribbean, and I wanted to be Jack Sparrow. The casting roles for our middle school production was voted by our fellow students, so to increase my chances of winning, I started the rumour that I was the descendant of Blackbeard and had real pirate blood coursing through my veins. The funny part is I ended up winning the part thanks to my swash-buckling sword skills rather than a fear of Blackbeard’s revenge. Oh, and the fact half the sixth form had a crush on me – Nico can confirm – probably helped as well.

Anyways, long story short, the infamous Bradley never forgave me for stealing his pre-pubescent spotlight, and Nico was cut off by association.

It was a true, tween tragedy. Shakespeare would have been proud.

“I sure hope Hunter isn’t the only rookie getting action tonight,” the man of the hour joins us with a mop and bucket in tow. Only coming up to my chin, what Cody lacks in height he more than makes up for in width. The guy is built like a brickhouse; it’s no wonder the opposing teams can’t get by his defense line.

“Aw Cap, the night is still young. Nico and I are just letting the other boys have a taste before we embark on the main course.” I wiggle my eyebrows suggestively as Cody laughs.

“You are a confident one, Wes. I’ll give you that."

“You know it. Need any help with clean up duty?” I gesture towards the mop, praying he won’t take me up on the offer. Drunk people are the worst to clean up after.

“Nah, you boys have fun. I’m making the rounds and figured I’d best be prepared. Expect the unexpected and all that.” Cody sighs, taking note of a shirtless Hunter and his partner who doesn’t look far behind in the strip tease.

“I better send those two somewhere private. Enjoy the main course boys.” Nico and I raise our plastic cups in toast as our captain leaves to eliminate Hunter’s pending lawsuit for public indecency.

“Hey, what happened to that girl you bulldozed this afternoon? I thought you’d have introduced me to your latest victim by now.” Nico glances around the packed room, obviously forgetting he has no clue what this girl looks like.

I shrug, “I texted Lou the address but never heard back. She probably couldn’t handle my dashing good looks twice in one day.”

Nico snorts, “More like she’s suffering from a mild concussion. You aren’t exactly light my friend.”

“Hey, I’ve never had any complaints from ladies before. I do my best work on top.” Cocking his head to the side, Nico smirks at me over his beer, “Not sure a body slam onto the front lawn is your best work, but I admire the effort.”

I raise my cup in acknowledgment, shifting my gaze around the crowded room to see if Lou decided to make a late appearance.

Let’s get one thing straight: I am not the type of guy who searches the crowd for a girl. Not that I’m against the romantic notion, it’s just there are somany options that I’ve never understood how one person’s absence could make such a difference. Especially if that person is attractive and of the opposite sex.

Here’s my reasoning: why pine after one girl when there are plenty of other sexy, horny women who are more than happy to make my acquaintance? Exactly. It’s a rhetorical question.

So, the fact I am currently scanning the crowd for one particular grey-eyed freshman shows my integrity. I said I’d help the MILF’s daughter settle in, and that’s exactly what I plan to do.

Lou’s absence is strangely… irritating. Could be I’m still butt-sore from being ghosted - first time ever - but I sensed the beginning of a friendship this afternoon. The fact she left me on read feels like a challenge. And when I set my mind to something, I achieve it. Whether it’s winning the role of Jack Sparrow in sixth grade, making it on Taber’s lacrosse team, or befriending the girl I tackled this afternoon; I always accomplish my goals.

Whether Miss One Trip knows it or not, she has set down a challenge. And it is not one I am about to lose.

Making eye contact with a gorgeous foreign exchange student, I immediately send dimples her way. The slanted eyes, sleek dark hair, and spectacular rack are all I need to follow her beckoning finger across the room.

Smiling coyly, all thoughts of Lou vanish from my mind as the Asian Goddess takes my hand and leads me to the nearest cloakroom. No names, no numbers, no promises.

Remember what I said about options?

Lou

I bailed on Wes’ party.

I know, I know. Why would a girl who struggles to make friends turn down a perfectly good opportunity to make connections? The answer is pathetically simple.

The reason I struggle to make friends is because I am terrified of putting myself out there. And yes, I am aware that everyone is scared of wandering outside their comfort zone, but for me it’s different. I am different.

No matter what group or club I try to join, I just never seem to… click with anyone. That sense of relief that comes with knowing you’re among your people? I’ve never felt it. I’ve never even had people who I would consider to be my people.

In high school, I lost any connection I had with the few girls I grew up with when our lives split into the designated cliques. Some of them joined sport teams, others band assembly, and a couple even managed to hit popular status. As for me, well, I had no clique. I was the loner of the loners. High school became three years of keeping my head down and making it through one day at a time.

Does any of this excuse my ghosting of Wes? No, it does not. But to be fair, he only texted me the address, so I’m guessing it was a copy-and-paste effort for all his contacts. I have no doubt my absence will go unnoticed.

To give myself some credit, I did consider going. For about two minutes until I realized Stella wasn’t home and there was no way I was knocking on my neighbours’ doors to see if they wanted to be my calvary. Not exactly the first impression I wanted to make.

So that’s how I end up spending my first evening of university alone in my room, breaking down the last few boxes, and playing the air guitar to Green Day. It isn’t so bad until the last piece of cardboard gets thrown away and suddenly it’s just me and Billie’s vocal cords. I sigh, flopping on my bed – heavily sanitized, don’t worry – and stare at my new, patchy ceiling.

It’s the down moments that are the worst. When you have places to go and moving boxes to break, your mind is occupied; you have a purpose, an activity that takes up your focus. But when that activity is finished, and you’re left with just your thoughts for company, that’s when the heaviness sinks in.

I contemplate calling my mother to kill time but immediately shoot down the idea. I don’t want to her to be worried I’m calling five hours into my residence experience. Plus, I already know she would question my choice to stay home tonight, which for the record, I am perfectly content with.

American Idiot fades into Basket Case, and I smile, feeling relieved someone else is being the melodramatic fool.

I hear the exterior door bang open, and I scurry over to peek my head out. Mine and Stella’s rooms are connected through the living room, so to get to the actual dorm door, we have to walk past two stained couches facing an ancient television set. There’s a microwave across from the living area, which I’m assuming classifies itself as the kitchen, and our shared bathroom juts out next to our front door. The bathroom consists of one toilet and the tiniest shower ever made, so if I ever want to shave my legs again, I am going to have to increase my flexibility. Drastically.

My attention turns to my roommate, who is slumped against the closed door, eyes closed and looking utterly exhausted. I shuffle out of my room and awkwardly clear my throat.

“Uh, Stella? Are you okay?”

Startled, she lifts her head and looks around the room. Spotting me, a tired smile creeps along her face, “Don’t mind me, Lou. How has your evening been?”

“It’s been… good. Finished unpacking.” I gesture towards my room, mentally bracing myself for Stella’s questions as to why I’m not out partying my first night at university.

She smiles, “Well, I think this TV is older than my grandpa but I’m going to try and get some Netflix playing. Do you want to join me?” Her response takes me by surprise. Where are the accusations of not putting myself out there? Of being lame for staying home instead of going out?

“I would love to.” I hesitantly sit down on one of the couches – should probably sanitize these too – as Stella crouches in front of the dinosaur technology. After a few minutes of tinkering, she pumps her fist in victory, and tosses me the remote.

“Go ahead, pick our movie. I have a feeling there will be a lot of movie nights this year, so we can take turns choosing.” She throws me a wink and jogs to her room.

I slowly scroll through the streaming options, second guessing each one I stop on. I can’t remember the last time I had a movie night with a nonfamily member, and suddenly choosing the right movie has never felt so important.

Stella rejoins me in sweats and a sweatshirt, her small frame all but disappearing under the baggy clothes.

“Ooh, excellent choice! This is one of my favourites.” I look at the screen and smile despite my nerves. Tonight’s movie is none other than Despicable Me. I click play and toss the remote on the ground, willing my anxiety to calm down.

Stella plops herself down right beside me, and I jolt in surprise. She could have had an entire couch to herself, yet she chooses to snuggle up next to me, a complete stranger. Her long hair brushes my arm as she makes herself comfortable, casually throwing a blanket over our legs as if we didn’t just meet a few hours ago.

I marvel at Stella’s easy demeanour, one that doesn’t reflect someone who is experiencing her first friend hangout in three years. Willing my body to follow her lead, I shuffle down on the couch and soon laughter fills the room as Gru and his minions’ villainous exploits unfold on-screen.

My nervousness from earlier all but dissipates as the screen turns to credits and Stella snatches the remote from the ground, pressing play on the sequel before I can think of going to bed. A foreign feeling fills my chest, and it takes me a moment to identify what it is: excitement. Excitement that I may have found a new friend, and maybe, just maybe, a dash of excitement for the year ahead.

Because as far as first days go, this one didn’t turn out so bad.