Nate

I’m still working my way through my reading list when Katie messages me.

‘Party tonight!’ with a little party emoji.

‘Too much reading to do.’

I try to ignore my phone as I sift through the journal articles I’ve bookmarked online. But I can see it light up from the corner of my eye.

‘If you ignore me now I’m coming to your house and I know I can get your mom to help convince you.’

‘You’re evil.’

She sends me a winky face.

‘It’s September , school has barely started, get your ass out of the house.’

She sounds so much like my mom it’s scary.

‘I’ll go for an hour.’ Just to shut her up.

Mom’s watching The Real Housewives of somewhere when I come downstairs.

She turns with a glass of rosé in her hand and looks me over, “you look nice honey.”

“Isn’t dad home yet?”

“Something came up at work, are you going on a date?”

My face flushes. “No, I’m just meeting Katie.”

“Okay well don’t drink and drive.”

“I don’t have a car, and I’m not even going to drink.”

“Have a couple,”

she says, holding her own wine glass up, “live a little. Just don’t get messy, like these bitches.”

“Okay bye mom.”

I meet Katie at her apartment building where she lives just off-campus. It’s technically co-ed, but I mostly see groups of girls hanging out there. They look at me like I’m an intruder as I make my way to Katie’s room.

“It’s like Mean Girls in here,” I say.

Her room stinks of perfume and a Stevie Nicks song is playing full blast.

“Don’t be so dramatic,”

she says, “they were probably just checking you out, nice shirt by the way.”

I snort, “they were not checking me out.”

Katie tilts her chin at me.

“What?”

“, I’m only going to say this once, because I don’t want you to get a big head, but, you’re kind of amazing looking.”

I feel my face get hot and look down.

“Not my type, but definitely a lot of people’s. So stop using being unattractive as an excuse to shy away from dating, you’re not butt-ugly, if you’re single, it’s because you’re chicken shit, okay?”

“Thanks.”

“That’s what friends are for.”

We take the bus into a nearby residential area and my stomach drops as we pass the row of houses used by the fraternities.

“We’re not going to a frat party are we?”

“It’s not at a frat house, no, I wouldn’t step foot inside one of those, but I can’t promise there won’t be any frat boys there. Or hockey players.”

“It’s okay, if Harrison’s there he’ll just pretend he doesn’t know me like he always does. Why are you smiling?”

“Siblings,”

she shrugs.

“You don’t have any.”

“I know. I’m so lucky. You guys are all freaks. A psychiatrist’s wet dream though.”

“Gross.”

The house is at the end of a quiet street with a pick-up truck and a Volkswagen parked up outside. A couple of guys who look like frat boys are standing on the porch drinking something from plastic cups. Katie squeezes my arm as we walk past.

I always worry someone’s going to try and stop me from going in, like they’ll call me a nerd and stuff me into a trash can or something. As much as he annoys me, growing up with a popular sport’s star as a brother did help me out at school. The few times anyone messed with me, Harrison ganged up on them with his teammates and no one messed with me again. But we’re adults now, and I can’t imagine asking Harrison to stick up for me against bullies.

Chants of chug chug chug travel down the hallway and when we reach the kitchen, Jesse Engels is surrounded at the kitchen counter while he chugs down a beer. It spills down his chin while he throws it back and when he’s finished, he picks up another.

Harrison is behind him, grinning like a maniac and pumping his fist while he chants.

Katie leans over and says in my ear, “it’s like some religious cult, don’t you think?”

I lead her away from the kitchen and out into the garden.

“Hey, I didn’t even grab a beer.”

“You know that guy chugging the beers?”

“Yeah?”

“He’s the one I’ve agreed to tutor in… sport’s nutrition.”

Katie snorts and slaps a hand to her mouth. Her rings clinking.

“Sorry,”

she says, “but why? you don’t even take sport’s nutrition.”

“I know. Harrison bullied me into it.”

“How? What does he have on you? Did he find a weird porn stash or something? How weird was it, you can tell me?”

“No, what the fuck? He just…”

when I say it in my head, it sounds so juvenile. He said he’d tell mom.

“He was just… threatening to get mom to guilt trip me, you know how she is.”

Katie narrows her eyes at me. Fuck I hate being friends with someone who studies psychology.

“Ok-ay. Are you sure there’s no other reason?”

“Like what?”

My face is hot and I pray it’s too dark for her to see me blushing.

I pull her closer and lower my voice, “if I tell you something, do you promise not to tell anyone else?”

She nods.

“I mean it, it’s important, it’s not really my secret to tell, and I’m not even sure I’m right about it.”

Her eyes widen the way my mom’s do when a new episode of The Real Housewives comes on.

I open my mouth to tell her about the app and the tattoo, but it feels wrong and I close it again.

“, for fucks sake, I won’t say anything.”

I can’t tell her I saw him, or am pretty sure I saw him on a gay dating app when he might not want anyone to know, but I have to tell her something now.

“It’s nothing, it’s just… I’m probably wrong but… I think he might be gay, or bi.”

Her eyebrows pop up. “Why?”

“I don’t have a good reason, I just get a feeling.”

“Huh,”

Katie looks back at the house, the backs of people’s heads are visible through the kitchen window and chants of chug chug chug float out into the garden. “So what, you wanna ask him?”

“No, not exactly, I just… I don’t know.”

When she turns back to me, she cocks her head and I hate that look on her face.

“You’re curious about him aren’t you?”

“Curious? No, not, well, yeah, okay I suppose a little.”

“Do you have a crush on him?”

I roll my eyes, “how old are we? No, I do not have a crush on him.”

“Okay, if you say so. Can we please go back in and get a beer now before your student chugs them all.”

I groan, “please don’t call him that.”

When we go back in, the cups that were lined up on the counter are empty and Harrison and his teammates are slapping Jesse on the back.

I expect Harrison to ignore me like he usually does in public, but when he sees me he calls me over.

With his arm around Jesse, he introduces us.

“I know who your teammates are Harrison, they’re always at our house.”

Jesse lowers his eyes and for a second I think he might look shy, but that can’t be the case. Jesse Engels is the least shy person on the planet. If there’s a loud voice in a room, it’s probably him.

“Uh , I really appreciate you helping me out,”

he says, rubbing the back of his neck.

I’m caught off-guard. He’s actually not acting like a cocky asshole. Huh.

“I have to warn you,”

I tell him, “I don’t actually know anything about sport’s nutrition.”

“I know, I still appreciate it.”

He slurs his words a little at the end of the sentence and as I’m about to tell him not to worry about it, he burps.

Harrison laughs and slaps him on the back and I swear to god Jesse blushes.

I can’t help but glance over every now and then while Katie drinks her second beer and gets flirted with by some guy in corduroys and wire-rimmed glasses taking about Dostoyevsky. Jesse only seems to be getting drunker, and louder. At one point, he picks one of the freshman players up and carries him around on his shoulders before nearly dropping him and I shake my head. Idiot.

I sip a 7-Up and keep checking the time.

When I turn around again, Katie is kissing corduroy guy. I text her, letting her know I’m leaving and go. If I’m quick, I could probably squeeze in a little more studying when I get home.