Chapter 58
I swallow down what’s left of my beer and wonder how much longer I have in the spotlight of Bobby’s gaze before he drifts away. I can’t think of anything to talk about—what’s his major? What class were we in again? Oh God—but Bobby comes through. “Are you in her class this semester, too?” I nod, and his grin turns wicked. “What’s the theme this time?”
From his leer, I know that he knows, and he just wants me to say it out loud so he can get a kick out of it. I consider not answering, but Bobby’s got a way about him that gets him what he wants, so in a low voice, I mutter, “Gay film.”
With a laugh, Bobby claps me on the shoulder, and my skin burns beneath his touch. “You’re a braver man than me,” he says, which can be taken in so many different ways. His hand still rests on my arm, as if he’s forgotten he left it there. “You watch anything porno in there yet? Or is it mostly just artsy crap?”
I hesitate, because I can’t think about porn with Bobby two feet away, I won’t, and in that moment he moves closer as someone brushes by. Through our shirts, I feel one hard nipple rub against my upper arm. The fact that this is the highlight of my evening underlines just how much this party isn’t for me. Though I hate to do it, I take a step away and begin, “Look, I really should go—”
From somewhere down the crowded hall, a girl’s voice rings out. “Bobby!” He half-turns, fingers tightening around my arm, and raises his beer bottle in greeting as she emerges in front of us. I hate her already. Long hair, blonde of course, straight and wispy with curled bangs. Big eyes ringed with too much makeup. A grin like a crocodile. Each finger tipped in blood-red polish that shines when she motions with her hands. When she reaches us, she breaks into breathless giggles. “Ohmigod, Bobby! Have you seen Ryan? He’s around here somewhere…” She raises up on her toes, which isn’t much higher than her height in the heels she has on, and makes a show of looking over the crowd. “We’re so out of here. I thought this was supposed to be a party, you know? Who invited all these freshmen? There he is—Ryan! Ryan!” She shouts again and waves frantically, as if anyone could possibly miss her.
Turns out Ryan plays basketball—he towers over the three of us and makes me feel that much more insignificant. I am out of my league here. As the girl nuzzles her boyfriend, I think I could get away if only Bobby would let go of my arm. But he’s moved closer, I can’t believe this is happening, he’s practically up on me and I stare at my shoes, trying not to breathe in case this is all a dream. I don’t belong here, in the midst of all these pretty people. Coming to this party was a huge mistake. In another minute or so, Bobby will realize the same thing and let go of my arm, or I’ll wake up in a pool of my own cum and hate myself for even thinking up this scenario. Any second now, really…
With a squeal, the girl cries, “Oh! Silly me. Who’s your friend, Bobby?”
I want to disappear. Have the wall open behind me like in the old horror films, just drop me back into a secret lab somewhere, far away from the three sets of bright eyes that suddenly pin me down. Somehow, incredibly, I find my voice. “I’m Jacob. We’re not really—”
“He’s a film major,” Bobby interrupts. The girl oohs, impressed. “Jake, this is Ryan, my roommate? And his girlfriend Amber.” I sort of wave with the hand holding the beer bottle and give them both a tight-lipped smile. “We were in Fuchs’s class last year.”
Amber moves closer, as if about to confide a secret, and speaks loud enough for the whole house to hear. “Oh, she’s such a dyke.”
I give her a withering look—I hate girls like her. “She’s the faculty advisor for the Gay/Lesbian Student Union,” I say. Bobby snickers beside me, but whether it’s because I said the wordgayagain or because I’m standing up to Amber, I don’t know. “Of courseshe’s a dyke.”
“Well,” Amber says, her tone wounded. She can’t seem to think of anything else to add, because she turns away from me and pouts at Ryan. “Let’s get out of here. This party is sodead.”
The way Ryan glances at Bobby makes me think maybe they all came together. With a shrug, Bobby looks at me and says, “I’m game. Jake—”
This has gone on long enough. “I should go, too,” I say, finally finding the courage to extract my arm from Bobby’s grip. “Really. I have an essay on the queer subtext of Blade Runnerthat isn’t writing itself.” I force a grin and what I hope comes off as a jaunty wave. “See you guys around.”
To my surprise, it’s Amber who tells me, “Wait. You come too.” To Bobby, she pleads, “Bring him along, Bob. It’s no fun driving with just the three of us.”
I could write an essay on the subtext beneath her words—two couples. She and Ryan are leaving the party to be alone but they brought Bobby here so they have to take him along, too, and they can’t get frisky if he’s the odd man out. So bring a friend along, is that what they’re thinking? Or is she better at reading queer subtext than I am? Does she know something about Bobby that I’ve only dreamed about? Look at us,I want to shout. I’m the 98-pound weakling and he’s SuperJock. Guys like him don’t get with guys like me, it’s as simple as that. Guys like him bounce through life from party to party and guys like me write depressing poems about why we don’t get laid. But he’s nice, he’s the one who came up to me, and I’m sure he’s trying to find some graceful way to tell Amber are you out of your fucking MIND?when he turns his sunshine smile onto me and asks, “Well? You want to come?”
Oh my God. In more ways than one.