“Very fun,” he agrees, but the unchecked anger in his eyes betrays his airy tone.
I don’t give a shit how much he hates me, though. The independent study is pass/fail, and there’s no possible way he can fail me after Mallory spent the past ten minutes gushing about my work. Even better, she’s the one who’ll be reviewing my midterm appeal once I begin the process.
I have a feeling it’s going to go in my favor.
I excuse myself and do some mingling. Fitz stays by my side, looking less miserable than usual at having to attend a social function. He’s evolving, my sweet-penis man. I’m proud of him.
His teammates take up residence at one of the two bars. Since the party is being hosted by the university’s Fine Arts department, the bartenders aren’t serving anyone without ID. But most of us are of age, and I sip a wine spritzer while Fitz drinks a beer, and we stand there watching the crowd for a bit. Brenna is on the other side of the room chatting with Hollis. They’re laughing about something, and every time she throws her head back, I notice a spark of hope in his eyes. Poor Mike. One of these days he’s going to have to accept that she’s not interested in him.
Fitz gets drawn into hockey talk with Nate and Matt, so I wander around and mingle some more. At one point I bump into Nora and nearly compliment her on her show. Her punk-rock-inspired dresses had been pretty incredible. But her eyes blaze the moment we collide, so I simply murmur an apology and keep walking.
A bit later, I see her at the bar chatting with Laurie, and her expression is drastically brighter. She’s sipping on a pink cocktail, and he’s holding a glass of red wine. He touches her arm, and then he winks and tweaks a strand of her black-and-pink hair. She giggles.
Looks like Nora got her wish—she’s finally the exclusive recipient of Laurie’s attention. Well, she can have the slimy bastard. Good riddance.
The party is winding down when my phone vibrates in the back pocket of my skinny jeans. I pull it out to find a text from Rex.
REX: Saw on Snapchat da hockey boys rocked it. Pissed tho. We wanted to do it!!
* * *
ME: I know you did, sweetie
* * *
REX: Still on for the after party, tho? Got all these kegs here. Shame to waste em.
I walk back to the bar and address Fitz and the others. “Are you down for the after-after-party at Rex’s?”
“Sure,” Fitz says, although grudgingly. “If you want to go?”
“Absolutely,” I answer without delay. “Daphne Kettleman will be there.”
“Why do you care about this chick so much?” He gives a resigned head shake.
“Because she’s Daphne Kettleman.”
He scrubs his hands over his face. “Summer. I feel like I’m going to be saying this a lot, but… I don’t understand you.”
Nate snickers.
“It’s okay, babe. Not a lot of people do.” I smack a kiss on his cheek. “All right. Why don’t you boys take off now? We’re starting cleanup soon, so I need to stay for that, but I’ll meet you at the Elmhurst house once I’m done.”
“I can stay and help,” Fitz offers.
“You already helped enough.” My tone is firm. “Take Brenna and the Kappas, and go to Rex’s. I’ll be there in an hour, tops.”
“I don’t like the idea of leaving you alone here.”
“Pussy whipped,” Hollis coughs under his breath.
“I won’t be alone,” I tell Fitz. “Ben and Nora”—I make a face as I say her name—“volunteered to clean up too.”
“Be nice,” Fitz chides.
“Hey, I’m nothing but nice to her. She’s the one who acts like a bitch to me.” I send Rex a message that the party is still a go, then slide my phone in my pocket. “I’ll text you when I’m on my way.”
Forty-five minutes later, Ben and I have stacked the last of the chairs, boxed up all the hangers, and de-cluttered as best as we could. Someone from the university is supposed to collect all this stuff in the morning and return it to the Fashion department.
I gesture to the raised runway in the center of the massive room. “They don’t expect us to take that apart, do they?”
“No, I think the crew’s doing it when they come to pick up all the chairs and stuff.”
“Okay. Good.” I check the time on my phone. “You coming to the party?”
He rubs his fingers over his bushy eyebrows. “I don’t know… A football party, huh?”
“You got something against football?” I tease.
“No, but I’ve received enough wedgies from football players that it’s left me a bit scarred.” His mouth widens in a cheeky smile. “I’ve also received enough BJs from football players to make up for that.”
I gasp. “Ben, you bad boy! One, I didn’t know you were gay. And, two, we have something in common—we both like athletes!”