5. Bailey #2
“Holy shit this place is nice,” Liam exclaims. “Reminds me of my grandpa’s place,” he adds before slapping me on the shoulder, the same one that’s already sore from him punching me in the car.
“Let’s go, pretty boy. There’s fun to be had, and babies, I mean, memories, to be made.”
I shake my head, hiding my smile as I hesitantly follow him inside. The property is endless, surrounded by dense wooded areas and a lake, the scent of pine and mist in the air. The water mirrors the sky and surrounding greenery in a subtle nod to the beauty of the countryside.
My sneakers fall quiet on the walkway as I enjoy the last few moments of untainted stillness before we reach the front door.
Here goes nothing.
It smells like a brothel, sweat and alcohol heavy in the air.
White walls with oak trim line the entryway and living area.
Modern fixtures and sconces provide an updated look to the rustic atmosphere.
People are strewn about the place like ants on fruit—an insult to ants as they are likely intellectually superior.
At least they march with purpose—this is just chaos and dry humping.
The stereo system shakes the wood-framed artwork on the walls. An unfamiliar bass-heavy song pours through the speakers, the volume so deafening it makes my inner ears itch.
“My god. I can’t fathom having so much money that my second house is a literal mansion on the lake,” I say.
“Right?” Liam replies. “I’d venture to guess the guy’s parents would shit gold-plated bricks if they knew this many college kids were grinding on each other in their living room.”
I smirk and follow Liam through the crowd. I quickly spot a cooler and chug a beer and then crack open a second one. My current goal is to win the battle against the nearly uncontrollable desire to run back to the dorm. I’m about ten percent closer to said goal than I was fifteen minutes ago.
I chug the second beer and grab a third. The roar in my ears quiets as I take a seat next to Liam on a plush leather couch and then focus on trying to find Nat in the sea of bodies.
I accidentally make eye contact with a pretty blonde who looks like she’s considering heading this way. Shit.
I take another sip of my drink, breaking her line of sight with my beer.
Liam’s animatedly talking to a few guys I recognize from school. All guffaws and sweeping arm gestures, currently deep in conversation with a stocky brunet with a porn stache. Brad, Chad, Thad? Hell, no idea. I bet that silly lip stain itches like crazy.
The porn stache trend started with the football team and a dare, and has since escalated into an all-out school-wide epidemic.
It’s rather horrifying. I can’t help but think about all the shit that can and will inevitably get caught in those things.
Food, boogers, germs from coughing or sneezing… other bodily fluids.
I swallow down a gag, attempting to bring my mind back from the mustache gutter. I zero in on dipshit number one and try to follow his fantasy football ramblings.
Nope, no fucks given.
I would rather scrape my nuts across a carpet than participate in small talk. Go ahead and increase the burn threshold if it involves sports.
I try to relax, nonchalantly posturing myself in a way that appears as if I am, in fact, both invested and participating. Maybe even contributing. I rest my left elbow on my thigh and tilt my head just enough to feign intrigue.
I’ve learned some tricks over the years. Ways to appear maybe a modicum less awkward than I naturally am. I’ve felt separate from my peers since kindergarten. I knew, even then, that I was different. My skin didn’t fit right and I never effortlessly knew what to say or do like my friends did.
It has always felt as if everyone else was given an instruction manual to this thing called life and I was just dropped on my ass with a pat on the back and a propensity for weird shit.
I scan the room again. Where the hell is Nat?
I’ll shoot her a text in a minute and make sure she made it here safe.
I take the last sip of my beer and lean into Liam to tell him I’m going to get another drink, gesturing at the empty bottle in my hand.
“You want anything while I’m up?” I ask him, yelling so he can hear me over the music.
He shakes his head, “Nah, man, I’m good, thanks. Don’t get lost,” he winks at me like he knows I’m liable to get an Uber back to the dorm instead of making my way back here.
My limbs feel heavy and my head’s buzzing. Who knew all I needed to do to feel the effects of the alcohol was to get the fuck up off the couch?
Beer science.
I skirt past a few couples making out against the wall, paying close attention to everyone’s shoes, careful I don’t slip up and make eye contact with anyone again.
One would assume the all black attire and go fuck yourself vibes I emit would be enough to keep the stragglers at bay. But, it doesn’t always work that way, so I’ve learned to blend into the background.
I slowly open the door to the kitchen, careful not to slam into anyone.
Wow. It’s all sleek stainless steel and quartz countertops. No evidence of a meal ever having been made. No lingering memories or impressions of time. I inhale the cool, crisp scent of cleaning products and varnish. The closest thing to fresh air I’ll find in this hellhole.
I run my fingers along the smooth cold surface of the island as I head toward the fridge, absentmindedly singing to myself. Nice. Fully stocked. I grab two longnecks and shut the door.
I’m busy digging through my jeans pockets for my keyring with the bottle opener when I hear another door. I look up, still fumbling with my hands full, and turn to exit the kitchen when Nat rounds the corner.
“Bays! I’ve been looking for you!” She grins in delight and gives me a bear hug.
She smells like fresh laundry and vanilla.
Like home.
“It’s so fucking good to see you, Sweetcheeks!” she squeals.
“You too, Nat. You too,” I smile. The genuine kind reserved for the few I trust with it.
I follow her out of the kitchen as we make our way to Liam, Nat pulling me by the hand.
A few blinks and drinks later, I find myself on a makeshift dance floor with Nat. Her arms waving above her head, eyes brimming with joy. She’s beautiful. A brilliant spirit and kind soul. I’m moving with her, abandoning myself to the thud of the bass and the laughter dancing in her eyes.
This is living.
This is the moment and I am here for it.
The edges of my lips turn up as I dance, all worries forgotten. Warmth blooms across my chest as the music takes me.