5. Bailey
five
Bailey
I’m not in the mood for anything that reaches past the perimeter of my couch and fridge. Maybe the toilet. I just finished downloading the new Skyrim on XBox, so I’m considering asking Liam for a raincheck.
Vegging out on the couch sounds fan-freaking-tastic. Besides, he knows I’m awkward on a cellular level, and likely the worst conversationalist on campus. With a wingman like me, he’s better off alone.
“Beto, why are you the only one who understands me? I’m meant to be here on this couch the same way you’re meant to be there, in that glorious bowl. I’d rather drink your poo water than yeet myself into the middle of a party” I say, side-eying the fish like he might answer me.
I jump when Liam bursts through my door.
“Dude, it’s okay to knock,” I say, shaking my head.
“Thanks, buddy, but I really appreciate the look on your face when I do it my way,” he says, a smirk on his face.
He plops down next to me on the couch and throws his feet up onto the makeshift coffee table.
“You better not be trying to weasel your way out of going tonight. I can see it written all over your constipated face, Bays. Don’t. Even. Think about it.”
“My face is constipation free. Furthermore, if it were to say something, it would be more along the lines of why the fuck are you here?” I retort.
He laughs.
“Liam, you know Sweaty Palms Bailey takes over when I’m nervous. He is so embarrassing.”
Liam looks at me knowingly, pushing for the truth with his gaze.
“Okay, fine. Honestly, I’m tired and the thought of having to act normal sounds more exhausting than running a marathon,” I admit.
Most people assume I’m just an antisocial weirdo who takes his studies too seriously. They’re not wrong. When I do concede to going out, it takes about thirty minutes and three to four drinks before my skin feels like it fits. The inferiority complex usually quiets after the fifth or sixth.
Liam leans back, clearly not satisfied with my response so I continue.
“The last party you dragged me to, I ended up utilizing Bailey’s Time Machine.
Remember? One minute I was standing at a crowded bar, drink in hand, enjoying a good buzz.
Then, I blinked twice and woke up in some chick’s bed.
” My cheeks warm as Liam chuckles, shaking the couch with him.
“Oh shit I forgot about that! You couldn’t even remember her name!” he doubles over laughing.
“No shit, Sherlock. I woke up in a strange place with a pool of drool on a pink pillow. The only clue in sight was a condom wrapper in the damn trashcan!”
God, I still feel like a complete jerk and that was months ago. I remember looking around the room hoping to find something to help me trigger my memory. Right Bailey, because no dorm room is complete without a personalized neon sign belonging to the girl you slept with.
“Bro, what did you say when you left?” He asks. “Please tell me you at least said goodbye,” he adds between laughter.
“I know I got my pants on so fast I almost fell. Pretty sure all that came out of my mouth was something to the effect of, ‘uh, thanks, bye’,” I admit.
“Oh my fucking god Bailey. You told her thanks?” he roars between wheezing laughter. “You are wild my guy, absolutely wild,” he says. “I’m not sure if I’m proud or disappointed. Maybe both,” he smiles as he leans to hit my shoulder with his.
“See? This is why I should stay home. No chance of losing my scholarship, an unwanted pregnancy, or a video of me riding a mechanical bull while wearing a purple rhinestone-encrusted cowboy hat Nat dared me to put on,” I squeak out as quickly as humanly possible.
I risk a glance his way to see if he was listening.
Liam isn’t moving, frozen in place. “Liam?”
Before I can register what’s happening he’s ripped my phone from my hands and is running to the kitchen to get as far away from me as possible.
“Dude! What the fuck are you doing?” I hear the unmistakable sound of a phone call being placed.
Oh god, what is he up to? I scramble toward him, reaching for the phone but he’s faster than I am.
“Hello?”
“Nat! It’s Liam. I need you to send me any and all footage of Bays on that mechanical bull immediately.”
“Don’t you fucking dare,” I growl.
“On it! Love you both, I’ve got to run, bye!” she says before ending the call. Liam darts past me, tosses my phone on the couch and runs toward the door.
He stops only long enough to say, “We’re leaving at eight, cowboy.” He tips an invisible cowboy hat in my direction.
Someone kill me. Please. I groan and flop down onto the couch, covering my eyes with my forearm in defeat.
I grab my phone and shoot Nat a text.
Me: You’re dead to me.
Nat: Liar
Me: Best Friend Card officially revoked. You may reapply before tonight’s shenanigans. Outcome pending approval.
Nat: Love you too. Can’t wait to see you tonight! Maybe you can sing drunken karaoke again. That rendition of Pink Pony Club was fucking stellar ????
Me: Kiss my pink pony ass ??
I toss my Vans in the corner and shimmy out of my jeans. I need a hot shower and a nap, but Liam made me promise I’d go tonight. I shake my head, conceding to my fate.
He dead-ass told me not to wear anything black, so I’m currently digging through my closet to find the blackest black I own. I even make a point to grab a pair of black boxer briefs and black socks too. Why? Because I can.
I throw my clothes onto the bench, almost busting my ass while pulling my socks off, landing haphazardly in some fucked up version of a Street Fighter combination. Hadouken!
Thank fuck no one is here to see me doing the pretzel butt-ass naked, dick bouncing like a door stopper after the descent. This shit right here is precisely why I never find myself wondering why I’m single.
The scalding-hot water feels good. I take a deep breath, and the scent of spice and citrus begins to calm my nerves. There’s no amount of alcohol that will lubricate tonight well enough to make it bearable, but hell, you only live once, right?
I grimace then rub my eyes until I see stars. Brilliant white specks explode behind my eyelids as I exhale. That anxious feeling of apartness tugs at the base of my spine, whispering to me that Nat and Liam would probably have more fun without me there.
I ignore the thought and decide to counter it with something positive. Like, what if, by some miracle, they have a dog?
I realize the odds of them having a dog at their lake house are slim-to-none, but I refuse to let go of that sliver of hope. Maybe they have a live-in groundskeeper who takes care of Bruiser, Bowser, Fluffy, or whatever rich people name their dogs.
Is that a thing? God, I fucking hope so.
It’s going to be fine.
I’m going to be fine.
It’s just a party.
After arguing for what feels like an eternity, we finally agree to take Liam’s Subaru so I won’t have to worry about driving or finding my vehicle—time traveler precautions.
I relax, slipping further into the seat.
The familiar scent of his car sinks in, soothing that gnawing sense of unease in my gut.
He’s been using Black Ice Christmas tree air fresheners for years and the smell always makes me feel at home.
I smile, quickly turning to look out the passenger window so he won’t catch a glimpse and think I’m suddenly cured of my social anxieties.
He should feel terrible for forcing me to go—I hope both sides of his pillow stay warm at night.
“You heard anything from Nat?” Liam asks.
“She’s catching a ride with a girl from her dorm. She texted earlier to say she’ll meet us there.” I answer, distracted by the view as we drive through town. The old houses and buildings tell more stories than a lifetime would allow.
“Really? Hell yeah.”
“I know, right? She needs to make some friends that don’t have penises,” I quip.
“I mean, I, for one, think I have a great penis so I’m not sure where the issue lies?” Liam replies.
“Gross, dude,” I say, face twisted in disgust. “I should have ridden with them.”
Liam laughs, a loud guffaw that I can’t help but follow.
I’ve missed Nat over the summer. The three of us tried to get together more than the few times we were able to, but our schedules kept clashing.
Nat always makes breathing more bearable, so I’m grateful that we share a few classes this semester.
Her pre-med curriculum often overlaps my pharmaceutical prerequisites.
“It sucks that we never have classes with you,” I say.
“Yeah, I know, but there is literally no way in hell I could work in the medical field. Who wants a doctor that freaks out every time he sees blood? A pharmacist that can’t even discuss using needles?”
I laugh, “True.”
Law school is going to be the perfect avenue for him. He’s effortlessly smart and could talk a car salesman into a buy one, get one free deal.
Everything from nineties country to death metal blasts through the speakers as we head away from the congested suburban area.
We drive for a while without speaking, letting the music carry the mood.
“Demolisher” by Slaughter to Prevail comes on, and Liam turns the volume up.
I’m busy playing air drums when out of nowhere, Liam tries to scream the lyrics.
It sounds like what I would imagine a cat being crushed under a garage door might. Shrill, but in the worst way.
I shake my head, fighting back a laugh.
Liam glances at me, a confused look on his face.
“Oh my god, dude,” I laugh.
“What?” Liam says, completely unbothered.
Liam socks me in the shoulder. “You’re just jealous I’m both sexy and talented.”
My gaze darts tentatively across the property as we pull up the steep drive to a sprawling lakefront mansion. This is a lodge. A fucking resort. Who the hell are they kidding? “Lake house my asshole,” I mutter under my breath.
I readjust my jeans and check my pockets. Phone, wallet, keys.
It’s show time.