I can’t believe it. They’re actually here. It’s like I willed them into existence, and the timing couldn’t be better.
“Actually, I see my friends are waiting for me. Excuse me.” I slip past the guy, curving my body so no part of me brushes against any part of him. Then I hurry through the crowded kitchen, hoping he doesn’t follow me or catch up to me before I can reach the other room.
And as I suspected, it’s not just Felix. Lukas spots me when I’m halfway there and nudges his friends to look my way. Felix only glances up briefly before focusing back on the cards in his hands, but the others keep their focus on me.
I know it’s pathetic how much I’ve been staring at their photo, and driving across town on the off chance of running into them (because I have to be honest with myself, I don’t think I’d have let Ronnie talk me into this if the party was near any other school) is worse. And borderline stalkerish. It would definitely not be my best moment if they found out.
Stopping a couple steps away, I stare up at them. Only Felix is seated, and I have to crane my neck to see the others’ faces. Why does everyone have to be taller than me?
“Hi.” I’m not sure if Lukas and his teammates can hear me over the music, and now that I’m standing in front of them, I’m not sure what to say. Do they even remember who I am? I put a hand to my chest. “Rebecca. I interviewed you at your competition last weekend.”
And, I realize, now I’ve reminded them about the article that Carl edited down to nothing. Do I apologize for how short it was? Maybe they didn’t see it so they don’t know, and it’ll be weird if I bring it up. I shouldn’t have said anything.
“We remember,” Lukas says, and I register that he says “we,” not “I,” like he speaks for the entire group. Which, thinking back on my interview with them, I guess he kind of does a lot of the time.
I notice their hands moving in front of them and glance down. “You brought cubes to a party?”
“Yeah.” Lukas frowns a little and glances between me and the group of guys in shirts with Greek letters on them sitting across from Felix at the table.
The frat guys do not look happy. In fact, they look downright pissed, and without even knowing what game they’re playing, I can tell from the pile of crumpled bills in front of him that Felix is winning. There’s another pile of money in the middle of the table.
I’m not sure what type of situation I’ve walked into, but I’m pretty sure my presence is making an already tense situation worse. I should just say it was nice to see them and leave, let them get back to whatever they’re doing and go find a quiet corner to look up bus schedules or order a rideshare to get myself back to campus. I’m not going to see Ronnie again for hours anyway, so it’s not like she’ll miss me.
That’s what I should do. Instead, I keep talking.
“That’s cool.” If they want to bring their cubes everywhere, who am I to judge them? “It’s probably why you’re all so good at the competitions. Always practicing.” I hope that will placate them, and it seems to. Their shoulders relax, and the furrows between Lukas’s eyebrows disappear.
“Yeah,” agrees Elliot. “We have a lot of classes right now so we have to squeeze it in when we can.”
“But you’re still making time to come out and party. Multitasking. Good way to fully experience your college years.” I sound so stupid, congratulating them on actually getting out of their rooms as if they’re normally hermits.
Especially because they could say the same thing right back to me if they knew. I’m one hundred percent a hermit and not fully experiencing my college years, but it’s only because I want to make sure I’m fully set up for life after college. I don’t want to screw around now and pay for it later.
The guys all cock their heads, confused about why I’m congratulating them. It’s a little funny, the way they react as a group instead of as individuals.
“Sorry.” I laugh a little and shake my head, trying to make it look as if I’m laughing at myself, but really I’m panicking and embarrassed.Cut your losses, Rebecca,my brain is screaming at me.Just say goodbye and remove yourself from this awkward situation.But I can’t. I don’t know why, but I don’t want to stop talking to them. I want to remove my foot from my mouth and start over and act like a normal human. “I’m just surprised to see you here, is all.”
“Why? This party is closer to our school than yours,” Lukas says, that line between his brows making another appearance.
Now I feel judged, like they’re wondering why I’m here instead of at a party closer to my own school. They probably think I’m banned from BU parties for being so awkward. This is not the way I wanted this conversation to go. Why am I failing so badly at this? It’s not like I can tell them I was hoping to see them here because for the past week I’ve been writing mental fanfiction about them and in it I’ve thought of them as nerdy, not the type of people to frequent college house parties.
“Good point,” I admit, watching Felix push more money into the center of the table. Another card gets turned over. I rack my brain for something else to say, but I come up empty. And I can’t just stand here awkwardly anymore, saying nothing, feeling smaller by the minute. “Well, I should probably go find my friend.”
I’m about to follow it with, “It was good to see you all again,” and slink off with my tail between my legs to delete their photo and make a vow never to think of them or this interaction ever again, when Felix shoves his pile of crumpled bills into the center of the table.
“All in.” He sits back in his chair and pulls a cube from the pocket of his red zip-up hoodie. He turns the cube quickly as he flicks his eyes up at me, then back to the guys across from him.
“Fuck you!” His opponents throw down their cards and stand up. They’re jacked, more than a little drunk, and they look ready to fight.
“Sorry, Lady Luck was on my side.” Felix nods toward me—am I Lady Luck in this scenario?—and stands as well, pocketing his cube again and scooping up his winnings. “Until next time.”
“Fuck no, sit back down.” The guys flex their muscles, like they’re ready to throw some punches if Felix doesn’t comply. “We’re winning back our money.”
I’m suddenly terrified that they’re going to hit him, but Felix doesn’t appear to share my concern.
“Not tonight.” He shakes his head and keeps organizing his pile of cash.
The now-penniless frat guys splutter and grumble, slamming their chairs into the edge of the table as they push them in, but for whatever reason they decide to cut their losses and wander off into the kitchen, probably to drown their anger in cheap beer.
