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THE NOT SO MEET CUTE
October 23, 2004
The music is so loud it pulses. The deep bass reverberates off the walls; house packed with people everywhere. Red solo cups in hands, empty beer cans littered everywhere, people dancing and gyrating to the music. The room is smokey, filled with cigarette smoke and remnants of a fog machine used earlier in the night’s escapades. Slowly, I make my way through the throngs of people crushed up against one another. All of them vying for their night to end upstairs tangled amongst the sheets with whomever they are currently dancing up against.
This house is well known for its parties but isn’t that what everyone expects from a fraternity house? They are not all known for their academics. Definitely not this one—this one in particular is known for its weekend parties. Every Friday night when the sun goes down this place comes alive and then all day on Saturday when it’s football game day on campus. Until now I’ve avoided them, only seeing them from afar but not tonight. Not after I’ve just pledged into their sister sorority Mu Gamma Phi. Tonight, there’s no lurking from afar, nope no such luck for me. I’m up closeand personal hanging out with everyone from my sorority, their partnered fraternity, and about seventy-five other random people who showed up for this shindig.
Typically, I could have bowed out of an after event but tonight, it was unavoidable. I couldn’t just pledge into the sorority and then just bounce and go home. I joined Greek life for three reasons: To make new friends, make connections that I can use after college, and meet some hot guys. And in that order. After going through the process of rushing all the sororities, Mu Gamma Phi was the best bet. They had the cheapest monthly dues and there wasn’t a sorority house for me to be forced to live in due to a recent fire that burned it down over last year’s Christmas break.
As an alternative, the sorority uses an alumni building for their chapter meetings, gatherings and activities. The best part is the building has to be locked up and emptied by eleven so I’m always guaranteed an easy out to go home. While I want to have fun, I also have to be mindful of my extracurricular activities because I’m here on a partial athletic scholarship that comes with a mountain of rules and regulations that I’m required to follow. So for me to not be in bed already, it really means something that I had to come tonight.
I’m wearing real pants too. Not yoga pants or sweatpants but real jeans. I’ve got my best white spaghetti strap tank top on with a blue duster over top that I’m now deeply regretting because it’s so hot in this house. I’m also walking a little taller tonight in my chunky, black ankle boots. My entire wardrobe looks like I’m straight out of a Delia’s catalog. We’re on the cusp of fall going into winter but you wouldn’t know if from the heat this house is emitting. I look around for one of my new sorority sisters who also happens to be someone I went to high school with (the joys of semi small town living). My eyes scan over all of the people andI can’t seem to find her. I make a pit stop at the bathroom and take one look at the toilet situation and shiver. There is no way I’m using the bathroom in this place.
I stand outside the bathroom for a moment debating what to do next. If I can’t find any of my sorority sisters who scattered like roaches under a flashlight when they walked through the doors, then I’m going to bounce and use the excuse come Monday that we must have gotten separated and been unable to find each other in this throng of party goers. I decide to give it one more walkthrough towards the front door and if I haven’t seen any of them I’m going to keep walking through it right outside and back to my apartment. I look at my watch and it’s ten minutes after eleven. So I made it ten minutes into this party before I wanted to bail.Not so surprising.
I can’t believe I’ve lasted this long without coming to one of these parties. It’s my junior year of college. I’ve got one more year before I finish school and go out into the real world. Right now I’m doing everything I can to make it to the finish line. Juggling my athlete obligations, my studies, a part time job and now the sorority is going to be pushing it but hey… I figured this is my only chance so why not. My mind wanders as I slowly push my way around the first floor of the frat house. I see a giant galvanized tub that everyone keeps dipping their red cups into. That has to be the source of everyone’s favorite party drink around these parts—jungle juice. Basically code forEverclearand fruit.
I make my way through another room, the hardwood floor is so sticky I can feel the soles of my shoes pulling up with each step. I’m about ten feet from the front door when I see a familiar face. He’s leaning against the wall, one leg resting against it, lazily drinking out of one of the red cups. He’s wearing a dark gray crew neck sweater and his face is so red it looks like he’s either eatensomething incredibly spicy or he’s burned up on a beach recently. Either way, he looks shit faced.
I know I have had several classes with him over the last year but I can’t think of his name.. It’s right on the tip of my tongue and when his eyes meet mine I know that he’s seen and recognized me as well. It’s one of those awkward moments that you know you either have to say hello or just pretend that you didn’t see each other and then it’s even more awkward the next time you do see each other and have to admit that you were in the same place at the same time and did in fact ignore each other.
I take a deep breath through my nose and instantly regret it. The room smells like cheap beer and cigarette smoke. Which I’m sure is now clinging to my clothing and hair. I’ll have to take a shower before I get into bed tonight. I duck my head down and make my way through the few people who remain between me and… Brad. That’s his name! I knew it would come to me. I smirk at my silent victory as I stop beside him.
“Hey. How are you?” I have no idea what provoked me to say that. I sound so awkward. He’s probably three sheets to the wind and I’m asking how he’s doing. No wonder I’ve only ever had one boyfriend and I’m twenty years old. I’m horrible when it comes to talking to guys. The one and only boyfriend I’ve had started because we met at band camp. He was a drummer my freshman year of college and I thought he was the best. A year later that idea was shattered when I walked in on him cheating on me with someone I knew and had introduced him to. I glance around the room thinking about him. He’s in a rival fraternity so I doubt I’ll be bumping into him tonight.
A beat passes while he takes a drink from the red cup in his hand. His eyes take me in over the rim. He’s probably trying to remember my name just like how I had to do with him. He lowersthe cup and gives me a small closed mouth smile. “Good. I’ve never seen you at any of these things, Malone.”
His statement catches me off guard. He does recognize me and even knows my last name.Does he know my first name too?He knows that I’ve not been here before. “Yeah, first time.” Curiosity gets the best of me so I blurt out my question: “Do you come to these a lot?”
He gives me a slow blink and I can’t tell if I’m losing him or if he thinksI’mthe slow one. “Yeah. This is my fraternity.”
Now it’s my turn to blink. In all of the events that we’ve partnered with the Lambda Delta Mu, I have never seen him. In my time pledging we have partnered with the fraternity to pick up trash in the park, rocked in rocking chairs for twelve hours to raise money for charity and put together care packages for soldiers. He wasn’t at any of those things. Before I can stop myself I ask him, “Do you live here in the house?”
He gives me a look of disgust. “Hell no. I live over in Welsley Hall.”
That’s the dorms for honors students. It makes sense since I’ve only ever seen him in class with his nose in the books. Now that I’m thinking about it I’ve never even seen him around campus. He always sits in the back row in our classes but he does frequently participate. That’s one reason why I know his name because the professors always acknowledge him. Another reason why I know his name is because he’s drop dead gorgeous. The first time I saw him walk into one of our classes, it was like time stopped and I swear I heard an eighties love song come on.
He’s got rosy, red cheeks right now but normally his skin is a slight olive color. He’s got dark hair that’s cut close to his scalp and he’s always wearing jeans or khakis. I don’t think I’ve ever seen him come to class in sweats or basketball shorts. Sometimes hewears a baseball cap and throws it on the desk once the professor comes in. Either way he takes pride in his appearance, and it shows because he’s got well defined arms and I’m sure a matching chest and abs.
Now, with him standing here before me, taking me in, I can’t think of one clever thing to say. I’m usually quick witted, but something about him unnerves me—makes me second guess things I normally wouldn’t. I can’t think straight. It causes me to get cotton in my mouth and I’m unable to form words in my head. I want to stand here and stare at his pouty lips that look softer than a pillow. I realize I’ve had my eyes on his mouth too long and look up, realizing that he’s looking at me. He straightens up from the wall but doesn’t make any attempt to walk away. Neither do I for that matter. We just stand there in somewhat companionable silence, him drinking and me just standing there playing with the hem of my sweater.
It feels like an hour but after a few minutes, I start to make my exit. I pull the sleeve of my sweater off my hand knowing that it’s going to be cold outside. I see Brad look at me out of the corner of my eye. He reaches out and touches my hand that’s now inside the sweater. I can feel the heat of his hand through the fabric. “Are you leaving already?”
I nod my head. “Yeah. I’ve got a lot to do tomorrow.”
He nods back and I can tell he’s thinking about something. “You’re one of the cheerleaders right?”
I politely smile but inside I call him a dick. I’m in fact not a cheerleader. I’ve heard this my entire baton twirling life. I’m a majorette for the university and I earn a partial athletic scholarship but in most people’s eyes they confuse me with the cheerleaders and the pom poms. They forget or don’t care or even realize I’m in fact that girl out on the football field wielding a metal stick inthe air doing extremely hard tricks underneath it that I’ve practiced and mastered since I was five years old.
I give a derisive snort. People call me a cheerleader just so I’ll have to correct them and say majorette—which is usually followed up by a smug smirk that I know means they think I’m beneath a cheerleader and not as talented. I can’t tell if he’s just confused or if it’s meant to be an insult so I shrug my shoulders and try to be as nonchalant as I can. “Close but I’m a majorette. I get one day off from practice a week and I want to enjoy it tomorrow.” I don’t give him time for a reply before telling himgoodnight,turning on my heel and walking straight toward the front door. I think I hear my name being called out behind me but I don’t look back to confirm.
As I walk the two blocks to my apartment in the cold night air, I make a list in my head about all the ways Brad Matthews is probably an asshole and not in fact the extremely hot, smart guy that he is. By the time I reach my door, my list is embarrassingly short.
THE DEEP DIVE
October 24, 2004
My eyes slowly open against the harsh light streaming in. I squint and rub them trying to keep them from watering. The sun is bright in my bedroom window—too bright. Usually, when I wake up it’s still dark outside and since it’s winter, I know it must be later in the morning for this much sun. I roll over and cover my face with the pillow, willing myself to fall back asleep but the effort is futile. I can hear the television from the living room. I have the pleasure of sharing one of my bedroom walls with the living room so I hear about ninety-nine percent of what my roommates watch.
