Ready in 10? I so need a drink.
I take a deep breath. Maybe it won’t be so bad. Maybe I’ll even have fun. And if it gets to be too much, I can always suggest we bail early. Tara’s usually pretty understanding about that stuff.
I type out a quick reply.
Almost ready. I have nothing to wear Can you bring something? Meet you downstairs. But fair warning, I might tap out early. Long week.
Tara’s response is almost immediate.
No worries, babe. I know just the thing We can see how the night goes. If it sucks, we can always grab ice cream and binge-watch Planet Earth instead
I’m a little worried about what Tara’s idea of “just the thing” is for me, but I’m equally grateful that I have someone to help me with an outfit crisis.
FREDDIE
THEN – SOPHOMORE YEAR – OCTOBER
I’m three beers deep and bored out of my fucking mind. Frat row is the same shitshow it always is—too many people, too much bad music, and at least three guys who definitely peaked in high school, trying to start a fight.
“Freddie!” A familiar voice purrs in my ear. Brianna. Right on schedule.
“Hey, trouble,” I say, falling into our usual routine. My eyes scan the crowd again. Still no sign of them. How long does it take two girls to get ready? Though, knowing Tara, she’s probably forced Alex into some makeover shit.
Brianna presses against me, all perfume and bare skin. “Miss me?”
“Always,” I lie, pulling her closer. It’s easy, this dance we do. She’s sexy as hell, wearing a skin-tight dress that leaves nothing to my imagination—not that I need to use it since I’ve seen it all before. She knows the steps, I know the ending. No surprises, no complications. Just what I need to get through another Friday night.
“Your place or mine?” she asks, running a finger down my chest.
“Let’s see where the night takes us.” I wink, but my heart’s not in it. My eyes catch on someone with dark hair entering, but it’s not Alex.Fuck. When did I start caring who shows up to these things?
Brianna slips away to grab another drink, leaving me with the all-too-familiar flavor of mindless flirting lingering on my mouth. I check my phone—no texts from Tara or Alex. Not that I’m waiting for them or anything.
“God, your place is such a mess,” Ethan appears, mimicking Brianna’s voice. “But, like, I’ll totally help you clean it.”
“Shut up,” I mutter, shoving him.
“No, no, wait—’Freddie, you’re so funny!’“ he continues in falsetto. “‘Tell me again about your workout routine. I just think it’s soooo sexy that you’re a personal trainer.’“
“At least I’m getting some,” I shoot back.
“Yeah, but at what cost, bro?” Ethan gestures toward the keg where Brianna holds court, tossing her hair back as her friends laugh. “At what cost?” he repeats with mock solemnity.
“Shut the fuck up, man. You’d dream of sleeping with someone like Bri.” It’s not a dig—Ethan’s no slouch. He’s a 6’1”, ex-quarterback, all muscle and confidence with an angular jawline that draws its share of admirers. But he’s never been able to keep one around for long.
“Whatever you say, little dude,” he sighs, reaching down to ruffle my hair. I shake him off, taking a final swig of my beer, but it’s empty. Time for another one.
Heading toward the keg, I spot Brianna and go to tap her on the shoulder when snippets of her conversation catch my attention. She’s facing away, giggling with her friend. It’s probably wrong, but I pause, listening.
“...only sleeping with him because Alfie’s always over at their house,” Brianna is saying, laughing. “Like, Freddie’s hot and all, obviously. But he’s kind of meh. He’s just convenient, you know? If Alfie would just notice me...”
Meh? Really?
Her friend gasps. “No way! Alfie? The weird, quiet one?”
“He’s not weird, he’s mysterious, and you can’t deny he’s sexy as hell,” Brianna counters. “Besides, Freddie’s boring lately. It’s like he’s not even trying anymore. Last time, he kept checking his phone all night.”
A twist hits my gut—not exactly hurt, but annoyed, and embarrassed, maybe. So, I’m just some placeholder while she tries to catch Alfie’s eye? Fucking Alfie?
