The Do-Over(28)
Author: Suzanne Park

 

Although he had left the classroom, I couldn’t help but think about what he was like at home with his two pets. Did he talk to them in goofy voices? Did he give them goofy voices? Was his floor covered with squeaky toys?

 

Someone said my name.

 

“—Lee, Grace Pak, and Ethan Chang. This group is the only one who followed all the instructions. Class, this is your only warning: starting this week you’ll get points docked from your group project grades if you don’t follow directions. It’s a reflection of your work, and no one wants sloppy, incomplete deliverables. Especially not for this class.”

 

While I didn’t always love this type of “showing praise to demonstrate a lesson” approach to teaching, any sort of positive affirmation these days was a win. Ethan sat to my right, and he mouthed, “We got an A plus! Yesssss!” while grinning at me.

 

Honestly, if I was twenty-two-year-old Lily right now, I would be so into him. His playful dark eyes, purposefully unruly hair, and barely there dimples were to die for . . . damn. The only other guy I’d seen with a face like his was on one of my favorite K-dramas, and he was thousands of miles away living on a different continent. Ethan could seriously be that actor’s body double.

 

“Can you believe the professor knows who we are now?” Ethan whispered.

 

My lips curved into a wide smile. “Yes, he does!” Even better, we earned this praise without any special help from a certain TA.

 

When the class ended, Ethan asked, “What are you doing tonight?”

 

Before I could panic about what exactly he was fishing for, he quickly added, “Because a bunch of us are going to PJ’s frat party tonight.”

 

“PJ’s in a fraternity?” He was a skateboarding, man-bun-wearing, baggy-clothed guy. Ethan looked more fratty than PJ. Hell, even I looked more fratty than PJ.

 

Ethan grinned. “I know—his brother was the Sigma Mu president a few years ago and PJ kind of had to join. Believe it or not, he fits in well there when he’s in his element.”

 

“And what is his element?”

 

“Drunk.” Ethan’s eyes glinted with amusement.

 

I rarely went to Greek parties in college the first time around. The very thought of going ten years later was too Will Ferrell in the movie Old School for me.

 

Nope. Not gonna happen. “I’ll pass. But thank you for the offer.”

 

“Well, if you change your mind, it starts tonight at eight. It’s the house with blue windows and doors on Brighton Alley. And you can’t miss the Sigma Mu letters, they light up like a motel vacancy sign. Gives off bug zapper vibes.”

 

I smiled to myself as we parted ways. Ducking into the Commons to grab a coffee, I texted Jake while waiting in line to pay. After typing, editing, and deleting my message over and over again, I ended up with three brilliant words: How’s the cat?

 

He wrote back quickly. Bandit had an abscessed molar and they removed it. God, so expensive

 

He added: There’s nothing worse than grading homework with a cat wailing by your feet all night. At least it was a legit reason and not her just wanting attention or treats. She’s staying the night for observation for infection. Thx for asking ☺

 

I swiped my ID at the register and my new photo appeared on-screen. Seeing an unfiltered, unedited image of my face on a very high-res monitor was not something I would ever get used to, even if I bought food and drinks on campus multiple times a day and was forced to see myself with every snack and caffeine purchase. I still couldn’t get over how this photograph was possibly worse than any high school yearbook image, corporate security badge picture, or double-chin-angled selfie taken by someone with short arms. Definitely worse than my previous student ID photo. My unsmiling passport mugshot looked better than this, and that was saying something.

 

First, there was the ghastly lighting. Fluorescent of course, with the illumination of maybe one hundred ring lights.

 

Second, the angle. The camera was positioned so it was directly in front, but it was also slightly lower than my head, and as anyone with a nonexistent jawline could tell you, this is not a universally loved camera position.

 

And last, my skin. What was going on with my breakouts? My nights toiling over required reading, homework sets, and career research during my study breaks had taken a toll on me. I was probably the only undergrad student here with both wrinkles and pimples.

 

The cashier glanced at the screen and said, “You may need to replenish your dining funds. You’re down to one hundred dollars and you’re in here a lot.”

 

Already? I hadn’t thought about the impact of my daily caffeine habit in New York, but now that I had a fixed budget, with most of my savings funneling toward tuition and housing, I needed to be more careful.

 

A heartfelt smile spread across her face. “But I do love seeing you. Take care, hon.”

 

I took my iced coffee to a window seat facing the CS building and texted Mia.

 

 

I got invited to a frat party LOL

 

YOU HAVE TO GO! What’s the theme?

 

Theme? Binge drinking. Hangovers. Possibly regrettable sex?

 

Noooo like Shots and Thots, Bros and Hos, the Great Fratsby

 

What are you even talking about? And how do you know so much about Greek party life? Didn’t we hang out in college all the time? Were you sneaking out to parties when I went to sleep???

 

No comment. But figure out the theme and dress to the nines if you go. Otherwise you look like an asshole

 

If I GO I’ll look like an asshole. WHO BROUGHT THEIR MOM? —everyone

 

Okay MILF-types at a frat party are a plus, not a minus. You are looking at this all wrong

 

 

 

This conversation had taken a sharp turn, and in fact was barreling down an icy road with shitty brakes. I thought for sure Mia would laugh her ass off knowing that my evening could include kegs of Natty Light. But now I was curious: Was there really a party theme?

 

I messaged Ethan. What’s the theme for the party? I’m curious (but not going)

 

 

It’s color themed, maybe black and white? What can I do or say to convince you to go ;-)

 

 

 

I was well out of practice on college-aged texting but . . . was that a flirty winking face? Or a “har har wink wink we both know you’re not really coming soooooo” face?

 

Like my conversation with Mia, this had potential to derail quickly. I didn’t respond, and placed the phone on the counter while I drank my coffee and stared out the window. A red-baseball-cap-wearing Jake headed into the CS building, returning for office hours. He was cat-less, and five minutes early.