Chapter 5
CHAPTER FIVE
IAN
Oh, man. The rush of relief and satisfaction that comes with turning something in on time hits different.
I lean back in the library chair and crack my knuckles while shaking stiffness out of my body.
The first part of this awful self-inflicted report was the last thing standing between me and a full week of assignment-less freedom, and man, I can't wait.
Nick wants to get wild and wasted tonight, and he's having me, Sabrina, and Laura over at his place to do just that, before going to The Barrel, a bar in town with lax ID checks, to get wilder and wasted-er. More wasted. Whatever.
I text Nick my go-to order of vodka and transfer him the cash on my way out.
Great. One of the exit turnstiles is broken, and there’s a bottleneck. I take a breath, waiting, and because I'm shameless, my eyes roam around and catch on a tall, hunky guy. Hot damn—
Oh. It's Callum. Oops.
He's wearing a flannel again today, and holy hell, blue is his color, hands down. He shouldn't be allowed to wear anything else.
Okay, I should stop before I get carried away. I'm not supposed to check him out, but this is only harmless, friendly admiration.
I mean, I can still look, right?
We haven’t seen each other in a while, since Nick always makes me late to our shared lecture. Sure, Cal and I have shared a few nods of acknowledgement here and there, but nothing more.
I should invite Callum to hang out sometime.
Hold up. Nick said that tonight is an open invite. I’ll bring Callum along if I can. Chilling with him outside of class would be sick.
“Yo, Callum!” I give him a quick upward nod, which he returns after a pause. He’s still outside the turnstiles, but I want to talk to him.
I leave the line and approach.
“What’s up?” he asks.
“Nick’s having a party at his place tonight. Wanna come?”
His eyes widen, and I can't tell if he's shocked, confused, or offended. I hope he's none of those and is receptive instead.
“Oh, I can’t, sorry. I’m about to start a shift here.”
Right, he has his job shushing freshmen with his nightclub-bouncer vibes. It’s in the biceps.
Damn it, I'm staring at his arms again.
“The libraries all close at eleven, right? We’ll all be out pretty late,” I say, silently begging him to say yes.
“I’m good, but I appreciate the invite. Thanks.” Callum offers me a tiny smile which manages to undo the knot of rejection in my core.
“Shoot, okay. Next time?” I scratch the back of my neck. “Guess I’ll see you around?”
I know him saying no means nothing. Even so, getting turned down for anything still stings like nothing else. At least I'm good at keeping a straight face now that I have almost twenty years of practice under my belt.
“Sure.” He opens the staff gate and lets me out. “I, uh, have to get to work, but it was so nice to see you.”
Aw, Callum is so sweet. God, this man is precious, not to mention affirming as hell.
I offer a wave, and he smiles back before heading into the library. My head follows him, and I steal a glance at his jean-clad legs as they walk him away.
Sheesh, those are some nice jeans. Faded just right, a little scuffed at the bottom cuffs, and fitting him like a glove.
And when I lift my gaze, I lock eyes with a cute blonde chick across the foyer who apparently had the same idea I did, only with a bit more intention since her head tilts right back to Callum’s…quads.
Yeah, we're totally admiring his legs. Not his ass. Not at all. Nope. Even if his ass is super nice and super hard to miss.
I chuckle, raising a friendly eyebrow at her, and she smiles back with a shrug before walking up the stairs to her left.
I linger on her departing figure for a few impolite seconds. Holy hell, she's hot. Callum could get it. Good for him.
But I don’t have time to stand around thinking about Cal.
The walk home only takes me a few minutes, and as soon as I kick my shoes off, I grab a beer and head for the shower.
As I wait for the water to warm up, I strip and grab my dick out of pure instinct. For a quick, fleeting second, I contemplate whether I’m gonna find a hookup when we head out tonight, before letting out a breath and deciding against it.
While I might be in a lengthy dry spell, that beats being called a level-five clinger for wanting some post-coital cuddles.
Fuck that.
Instead, I step into the warm water and crank my hormones away while imagining that I'm being stroked off by someone else. I won't lie, even though spilling into my own hand isn't the same, at least I won't scoff at myself and say I'm a creep for cooking breakfast.
Oh well—tonight, I’ll get messy drunk with Sabrina and Laura, try to wingman Nick, and maybe run into some of my teammates so we can all be idiots together. That’s my kind of fun.
Then comes the ever-present question of what I’m gonna wear.
It should be simple, especially since I’m a dude who wouldn’t give too many shits anywhere else, but WMU sure has preppy vibes running through most of the student body.
Nobody, outside of a few tryhards in the business school, wears suits to class, but there’s a definite pressure to dress up.
I roll my eyes as I rifle past a quarter-zip in my closet. Isn’t college supposed to be more relaxed than this?
Leafing through my closet, my fingers land on the flannel I wore when I saw Callum for the second time.
I smile to myself while pulling it out, deciding that yes, I’m gonna wear it again.
Honestly, I have to give it to Callum for breaking that mold for me.
He clearly doesn’t care about weird groupthink, and he looks real good in the process.
Great, I’m thinking about him again. It’s the age-old dilemma: do I want to be him, or do I want to be with him?
Like, we’re friends. It’s fine if I admire that part of him.
It’s totally natural to take pages out of a cute guy’s book.
Besides, it isn’t like I went out and bought a bunch of clothes to match his wardrobe.
I’ve owned flannel and jeans and hoodies and a few pairs of boots since I can remember, anyway.
A whiskey and a quick bite later, I bundle up and head over to Nick’s apartment. I knock on the door, and it swings open almost instantly, a buzzed Nick leaning on the frame with a drink in his hand.
“Yo, what’s upppppp,” he drawls, dapping me up before wrapping me in a friendly bear-hug. “Are you ready to get blitzed tonight?”
I grin, pulling a beer out of my backpack. “Oh yeah.”
Nick snatches it out of my hand. “None of that weak shit. I’m making you a real drink.” He heads straight for the kitchen and pulls out a bottle of vodka—his own, not the one he helped me buy earlier. “I’m kinda short on mixers, so I hope you aren’t allergic to peach juice.”
“Sounds good to me.”
Nick nods before unscrewing the bottle of vodka, and then he tilts it, depositing what’s probably half its contents into a highball glass.
I scoff. “Bro, are you trying to kill me?”
“Nah, I’m only helping you catch up,” Nick says, adding an extra little splash of vodka for good measure. He fills the rest of the glass with juice, tosses in some ice, and hands the drink to me.
I take a sip, and it isn’t half-bad.
After a gulp, it tastes even better. I might have another.
The two of us are half-drunk by the time Sabrina and Laura knock on Nick’s door half an hour later, and I stumble over to let them in, making sure not to spill my drink on Nick’s carpet.
“Is it cowboy night at The Barrel or something?” Sabrina asks as she walks in, clapping my shoulder. “If it is, you’re missing a hat.”
I chuckle and wave her off. “Nah, I thought I’d try something different tonight.” After a pause, I decide to make a Nick-level joke. “But I wouldn’t say no if I found someone to save a horse with me later.”
Laura groans, smoothing her dark, snow-dampened hair down. “Ugh, that’s awful. Why’d you have to say that?”
Nick coughs. “Our guy here is in love with a flannel-wearing country boy.”
Jesus fuck. I give Nick the finger and deflect by helping Laura and Sabrina bring their drinks to his fridge.
Sabrina unscrews a bottle of white wine. “Is anyone else coming with us?” she asks me and Nick, who shakes his head.
“Nah, I invited Callum, who’s my friend and nothing more, but he’s working,” I say.
“Aw, that’s too bad.” She takes a large drink from the bottle before passing it to Laura, who does the same. “Anyway, shots?”
Again, I won’t turn those down.
“I love you guys so much,” I slur, wrapping an arm around Sabrina and leaning into Nick.
He rolls his gray eyes and snorts, flicking my forehead and draining the rest of his beer. Laura comes back from the bathroom and snickers, passing a glass of water to Sabrina and opting out of our chaotic jumble of limbs by sitting at the far end of the couch.
“Yo, loverboy,” Nick says, scruffing up my hair, “are you ready to head out?”
“Oh, yeah.” I sit upright and unhook myself from Sabrina. “We should check how long the line is.”
“I’m on it,” Sabrina says, pulling her phone out and checking The Barrel’s social media. After a few seconds, she frowns. “Guys, The Barrel got their license revoked for a month.”
“Fuck, what happened?” Nick yells. “That’s the only place in town that doesn’t ask for ID.”
Sabrina furrows her eyebrows. “That’s…probably why they got shut down. Fuckin’ sucks. I was so looking forward to going out tonight.”
My response comes automatically. “You guys all have fakes, so you can—”
“No, Ian.” Sabrina cuts me off. “We aren’t gonna ditch you.”
I wave her off. “Don't worry about me. I'm good.”
Three heads turn toward me, intensifying the unease that’s settling in my stomach. They’re my friends. They should be able to do what they want without me holding them back.
“Ian, come on. We aren’t going to leave you out,” Laura says, narrowing her brown eyes.
“No, it’s fine. I really don’t mind,” I lie, hoping I’m convincing enough.
Sabrina shifts between her feet. “It’s not a huge deal. We’d just end up going to that Turbo club to pay through the nose for watery shots.”
“Oh, Turbo? Some guys from the team are gonna be there,” I say, and Nick’s head perks up.
“That might be nice,” he starts, before faltering. “We’d only go if you’re actually okay with it.”
I offer a smile that’s stronger than my drink. “I am, alright? I’ll go as far as telling you guys to go.”
“Alright. Get home safe, okay?” Nick says, sighing. He turns to Laura and Sabrina, who shrug and nod.
What is it about me and signing off on my own exclusion?
Well, not everything is about me, and I shouldn’t be the one to keep my friends in.
Leaning over, Sabrina wraps me in a hug. “We’re still on for hangover brunch though?”
I reply with a grin, “Definitely.”
Hangover brunch started when those three crashed in my dorm after a wild night around a year ago.
I brought back a massive spread for their hungover asses, and a tradition was born.
I bring the food, Sabrina brings mimosa ingredients, and Laura brings Sabrina, who might not ever leave the bed if it wasn’t for her girlfriend.
“Nick, are you coming tomorrow?” I ask.
He lets out a snort. “Man, I love you, but I'm not dragging my ass out of the house before noon.” He’s only made it to two brunches, and nobody blames him. He’s a tired boy whose internal clock is constantly set to China time.
Nick slams another shot while Sabrina and Laura put their jackets on, and we head downstairs. Turbo is in the other direction from my house, so I say bye again before we part ways.
And then I’m alone. Campus is almost deserted, and the faint sounds from ongoing frat parties float through the air. As far as Friday nights go, it’s an early one for me, given that it’s barely past eleven.
Maybe I should bite the bullet and get a fake ID.
While I would have liked to hang out a bit longer, at least I won’t be hungover tomorrow.
Even if that defeats the point of hangover brunch with Sabrina and Laura.
Then again, I'll be conscious enough to make pancakes instead of throwing in the towel and ordering in.
Pancakes are always a hit with those two.
The already-quiet sounds coming from campus fade even further with every step I take, and by the time I get to the West Library, I’m accompanied by my footsteps.
I stop, leaning against a tree. The alcohol from earlier is wearing off. It’s still keeping me toasty, and I have a pleasant buzz going—
“Hey, Ian?”
I spin around, recognizing that voice. It’s Callum, and I can't stop a grin from materializing. Catching myself, I mold my expression into something more socially acceptable.
“Yo, what’s up?” I ask.
“Nothing. I just finished my shift. Didn’t think I’d run into you, but I thought I’d say hi or something.”
My chest warms as I give him a fist bump. “Awesome. I’m glad you did. It’s always nice to see you, man.”
“Are you calling it a night?” he asks. “It’s only eleven.”
“Yeah,” I reply, pausing to take in a cold breath. “Unless you wanna chill with me for a bit? I live right around the corner, and I have drinks at my place if you're down.”
His eyebrows rise slightly, and I brace myself for him to decline.
But Callum surprises me.
“For sure, I’d like that,” he says.
I break into another smile, which probably gives away how much I’ve already had tonight, but I don’t care. “Awesome! I’ll lead the way.”