Bubba watched me. His Adam’s apple bobbed. “You know, uh, you do look good, Sean. Bet you can, um, find someone now.”
“But only if I get out there,” I said, pointedly repeating his words.
“Yeah. For example, next Friday, there’s a party. You should go to that.”
“An A-hoe—I mean, an ALA party?” I asked doubtfully. We SMT brothers never attended those. It was a code of honor.
“Nah. It’s at the Tri-Delt house. You know, that really hot sorority? They do a winter bash about this time every year. Tons of people go. All sorts. Like, it’s not just a kegger.”
I considered that, looking out the window. The thought made me feel a little nauseated. I wouldn’t know a soul at a party like that—unless I could convince someone from SMT to go along with me. And wading into a sea of people who were way cooler than me didn’t sound like a promising scenario. Then again, what use was a makeover and working to get more fit if I stayed in my room? That would be like renting time on the CERN particle accelerator and then just sitting there twiddling your thumbs.
“I’ll take it under advisement,” I said.
Bubba smiled as if I amused him. “You could go with me,” he offered.
I looked at him in surprise, but his gaze dropped to his food again.
“Really? Is active matchmaking at parties another duty performed by a personal trainer?”
He glanced up at me and shrugged. “Could be. Boosting confidence and all that. Why not?”
I stared at his face a minute longer. Me show up at a party with a popular guy like Bubba? Perhaps that would convince potential partners that I was straight and looking for a woman, which would be contrary to my aim. But he said that party had a wide range of attendees. Perhaps gay students would be there. And if I went with him, it would be like I had a special pass. I would be the guy who came with Bubba Merkofsky, which would make me look cool. “Yes, as you say, why not?”
Chapter Eight
Bubba
I bounded down the stairs at my house carrying Brett over my shoulder. He hadn’t exactly asked to go to the living room, but hell, he was my good luck cat, and Sean needed all the luck he could get. Hey, I could use some too.
We’d been working our buns off at the gym to get ready for the party. Note to self. For future clients, the best motivator is an event. Preferably one where the client wants to look good. Sean had decided he was going to be, if not Chris Hemsworth, at least Ryan Reynolds in a week. Not gonna happen, but I’d be the first to admit, he’d picked up a noticeable layer of tone. It helped that he was skinny because any added muscle showed up quick. Besides, in his new clothes, he already looked good. He’d even inspired me. I broke down and bought a new white Madison shirt at the campus store.
DeWan and PJ both sat in the living room, and I transferred Brett to DeWan’s lap. He gave me a once-over. “Hey, my man, you’re lookin’ good. Going to the Tri-Delt party?”
“Yeah. You?”
“Laters. Rachelle’s gotta work ’til ten.”
I said, “PJ? You going?”
He looked up from his gaming console. “No. Believe it or not, I’ve got a Quiz Bowl practice. Just fucking shoot me.”
He didn’t sound all that mad though. “Oh. Good luck with that.”
DeWan said, “Hey, Rachelle tells me that the cute Phi Mu, Mindy, was asking all over you. She’s gonna be at the party and looking for some Bubba.”
I felt my cheeks heat, but I smiled. “Thanks. I could use some action.” Not sure why that thought didn’t excite me as much as it should. Man, I needed some girl power. All week, I’d start up a fantasy of some chick going down on me and just about the time I was getting ready to come, I’d look down and find my fingers buried in red spiky hair. Hell, all the sex talk with Sean was weirding me out. I needed a serious female antidote.
“Don’t do anything I wouldn’t do.” DeWan winked.
“Yeah, you know what they say. That gives me a lot of elbow room.”
PJ glanced up. “You going over with Rand and Tray?”
“Uh, no. I’m going with my client.”
“Client?” PJ narrowed his eyes. Never a good sign. The guy had a way of being mean.
“Yeah, my personal training client.”
“Hey, fancy schmancy, but are you talking about Mr. Wrong Way the Poin king? Now you’re taking him to parties? Dude.”
I swallowed hard and wanted so bad to tell him to fuck off, but he’d just come back with some zinger I could never think fast enough to answer, and then I’d feel even dumber. I stayed frozen for a second, but my brain wouldn’t cough up any words, so I just turned and walked out the door, hearing PJ’s laugh behind me.
All the way across the street, my gut churned. Sean might say I was smart enough to take up physical therapy, but he’d never been inside my frozen head when guys, or girls for that matter, made fun of me.
Sean was standing on the porch of the Poin palace bundled up in his heavy coat. I waved, and he jogged down to me. Even in the dim light of the streetlamp, I could see how cute his hair looked and that the cold had made his cheeks bright pink. I said, “Hey, man, it’s freezing out here. Why didn’t you wait inside?”
He scrunched his eyebrows. “My fraternity brothers are finding it difficult to grasp my makeover and desire to attend a sorority party. I’m afraid they are being quite merciless.”
“Tell me about it.”
He looked surprised. “Why would anyone tease you about going to a party? You must do that all the time.”
Well hell, I couldn’t exactly tell him they were ragging me for going with him. “I, uh, bought a new shirt. I don’t do that a lot.” He looked like he didn’t believe me, so I said, “Let’s walk before our nads freeze off.”
Taking off at double-time, we headed down the frosty road toward the Tri-Delt house. Since this street was Greek central, a lot of other people were headed the same way. On the big front lawn of the three-story fancy-looking house with columns and shit, a lot of guys and women hung out, holding glasses and laughing. This wasn’t an “official” TriDelt party. Those were all formal with the girls in fancy dresses and lots of alumni standing around looking judgy. This party was more like one the alums pretended wasn’t happening, although it wasn’t anything like an ALA party where clothing was optional and beer was measured in buckets. No, it was a good place to meet a nice girl—or guy for Sean—and maybe set up a date. Of course, that didn’t mean some serious sex wasn’t happening in the bedrooms or surrounding parked cars.
As we walked up the lawn, one of the girls, Woozie Ann from Kappa Delta, grabbed me by the arm. “Hey, Bubba, who’s your friend?” She grinned toward Sean who was staring around the front yard like maybe he’d landed in Oz.
I said, “That’s Sean.”
“Ooh, fresh meat. Introduce me.”
I spoke softly. “I will if you want, but you’re kind of the wrong gender for Sean. I brought him so he could meet a nice guy.”
She pressed her hands against her big chest. “Oh, isn’t that cute. Let me put my head together with a couple of the girls and see if we can think of the perfect person. I love a challenge!”