Page 49 of End Game

Amir and Greg push through the crowd to the keg and we follow in their wake. People move out of the way for the big guys in a way they wouldn’t if it were me and Mason on our own. Greg chats with the fraternity brother manning the keg as Amir pours me a cup, then hands one to Barrett behind me. Duly armed, we are ready to party… whatever that means.

The beer is lukewarm and a little flat. I take a bigger sip and make a face.

Barrett laughs. “Not your flavor?”

I shake my head.

“I’ll get you a vodka soda,” he says. My stomach warms at the idea that he knows my drink order by heart—he knows what I like, and he has no qualms about obtaining it for me.

“I can get it.”

“We’ll go together,” he says. He holds out his hand and I take it. He squeezes my hand and pulls me through the crowd as we head toward the kitchen. He nods to the guys in the kitchen before he starts to make me a drink. He passes it over and I take a sip. “Better?”

“So much.”

He quirks his mouth upwards in a grin. “Yeah?”

“Oh, shut up.”

Barrett laughs outright. “You love me.”

“You make good drinks.”

He takes the flat beer from my hand and takes a sip. He makes a face and then takes a longer drink. “You’re right. This is kind of gross.” He drinks some more, full on chugging now. In about thirty seconds, he’s downed the entire cup of mostly foam, very little beer. He tosses the empty cup into the nearby trash can and picks up his original cup, which looks to be about the same.

“Ready?”

“Freddy,” I say, and he grins.

He reaches out and grabs my hand again. This time he leads me in the direction of the game room, where most of the football players are gathered. There are about fifteen dudes spread out, playing video games, and a cluster of women in the corner jostling for attention and being ignored.

Barrett only has to look at a freshman for the guy to get up and move to the floor. He takes the guy’s seat and I settle on the couch beside him, sipping my drink. Greg and Amir are on the other side of the room with Sullivan and another guy I’ve seen around campus whose name I don’t know.

I’m not in the mood to dance. I’m not in the mood to talk. All I want to do is hang out with Barrett and just… be. The guys trash talk each other and play their games. It all goes over my head. I’m included, I’m part of it, but they leave me alone.

My phone buzzes with a text. It’s Trey. My stomach flips as I open the screen to reveal the message.

Hey. What you up to?

Seriously? These thirsty white boys think they’re so hot.

Still, I’m a little bored. I don’t have anything else to do. So I text him back. It’s not like my best friend is paying me any attention. He’s drinking his beer and staring off into the distance, looking like he’d rather be anywhere else.

At a party.

I leave out the fact that Trey’s not invited, and that this probably isn’t his scene. Hipster psychology boys probably wouldn’t be caught dead at a frat party, and if they were, they would probably spend the entire time denigrating it.

Why am I even remotely interested in this dude? He hit on me at the bar, he bought me a drink, and then he didn’t text me back for almost a week. He’s clearly looking for someone to warm his bed tonight and is hedging his bet. So why can’t I stop thinking about him? Am I so desperate for friends, for companionship, that I’m going to take the first hand that’s offered to me?

My phone buzzes in my hand, and I have to resist the urge to check it.

Yes. I’m also lonely, desperate, and a little horny. So if I hook up with this guy, if I sleep with him once or twice and then don’t see him again… yeah, I’m okay with that. He’s not my forever. But he could be fun for a few nights.

I take a sip of my drink. Barrett glances down at me and smiles.

“Everything okay?”

Pressing my lips together, I nod. We’ve never really talked about dating or hooking up or anything. He’s called me a few times after he’s hooked up with some random girl, when he’s drunk and lonely and regretting it. I’ve texted him from my conquests’ bed looking for an excuse to leave. I’ve never had a real boyfriend, and as far as I know, he’s never had a girlfriend. He sleeps around. He goes out. But he doesn’t play for keeps. He’s never been interested in that.