I lose some of my steam as I reach the bottom of the porch steps. If these guys were bold enough to have a “rager” with drunks throwing up in the front yard on campus, why the hell did I think they’d give me any easy answers about Nic? If Riley were here, she’d know how to tap-dance around the topic. Ask just the right questions to get exactly what we needed. I’d even take Javon. His methods are a bit more barbaric than Riley’s, but still, all our questions would be answered. But I didn’t have Riley nor Javon. Just me. I came this far to find out what’s going on with Nic, so I can’t turn back now. I shake my hands out to ready myself, then climb the steps.
When I slide through the front door, the pulse from the techno music almost jolts my newfound nerves out of me. I swivel, try to head back out to regroup, but a cluster of guys whooping and hollering like it’s their first college party comes barreling through the door, pushing me farther inside. Crap. But maybe that’s a sign.
I look around, search for one of the clowns that came to Taco Bell—but most of these guys look like the clowns that came into Taco Bell. Most of the guys here are tall, tan, and look like they go sailing on the weekends. I definitely stick out. I spot a JRU ballcap lying on one of the speakers. I swipe it, place it on my head, nod along to the song playing like I requested it. I see two girls giggling and dancing with each other in a corner. They look happy enough to help out. I nod my way over to them. Do a little two step beside them before I make my move.
“’Sup,” I say over the music.
The girls look at me, then each other, then giggle again. “You’re cute, babe, but we’re together,” the one with curly black hair says. She grabs the other girl’s hand to prove her point further.
I hold up both hands and take a small step away. “Congratulations,” I say . . . because I’m a dorky eleventh grader who has no business being here. “I was wondering if either of you knew where I could find someone.”
“We’re all looking for someone, babe,” the same girl says.
Okay then. Maybe I should get into specifics. “He drives an Escalade,” I say. “Dark brown. Killer rims,” I add, just in case all these assholes drove Escalades.
“You’re talking about Tyler,” the girlfriend says.
I nod. Tyler—now we’re getting somewhere.
The girl with the curly black hair shakes her head. “That’s not Tyler’s car. He’s in it so much that he probably thinks it is. You mean Liam.”
Tyler? Liam? Both sound like they have money in their checking accounts with more digits than my social security number. “Yeah . . . yeah, I meant Liam. Know where he’s at?”
“Last I saw him, he was checking out the liquor supply to see if he needed to make a run.”
I don’t get to ask where the liquor supply is because the girls return to their giggling and dancing. If I interrupt to ask more questions, I’ll paint a bull’s-eye on my back. Best to keep it moving. I decide to follow the trail of discarded red Solo cups. Maybe the end of it will lead to the liquor. Hopefully this Liam guy is still there. I continue to bob my head along to the music. I even throw a wave at some random guy just to give off that I belong here. That I come to the DU house every weekend. My confidence pays off—the guy pulls me in for a hug, lifts me off my feet for a moment. I adjust my cap just as I hear a loud bang on a door down one of the halls.
“I told you—just don’t cause a scene!” Some tall, macho guy barks at his almost as tall friend, pinning him up against the door. For a guy that doesn’t want to cause a scene, his actions say otherwise. He then leans over and whispers something in the other guy’s ear with so much rage that I see the spit flying from his mouth.
The other guy nods as if he gives in, then knocks his aggressor’s hands off him. He spreads out all ten of his fingers and says something I can’t quite make out. Ten minutes maybe?
“Yeah, no shit!” The macho guy broods back toward the living room. He sideswipes me as he pushes past and that’s when I catch a whiff: Pine-Sol. Mixed with a couple of beers, but obnoxious and spruce-y nonetheless.
My heart catches in my throat as the guy continues to push his way through the dancing crowd. Okay, it’s time to do something, Jay. If you lose him, no telling when you’ll find him again.
“Liam!” I call out.
Liam pauses in his tracks, looks back at me. Holy shit. I didn’t expect that to be so easy. He stares at me, his mouth pinched in annoyance. I need to keep moving mine before he disappears on me.
“Cool party, dude.” Shit.
His annoyance switches into disgust as he curls his lip. “Do I know you?” he asks.
I push past a couple who bumped and grinded their way between us. “Yeah. I think we have first period together.” Shit again. “I mean, first class. Of the morning. On Mondays . . . yeah.”
Liam cocks his head at me. “You’re in poly sci?”
I nod. “Yep.” But please don’t ask me what the hell that is.
“Bro.” His jaw finally slacks. “That test last week. Like what the fuck, yo?”
I force out a small laugh. “I know, right? Like was the professor in the same class we were?”
“But Tiana, though . . .” Liam holds out both hands in front of his chest, squeezes imaginary breasts. I gnaw my bottom lip so I won’t gag. He looks at me, waiting for a response. So I nod. “I see why they call them TAs, know what I’m saying?”
I keep nodding. “Yep,” I manage. “Just like an hourglass.”
“But wait . . .” Liam scratches his chin, studies me. “Or is her name Brittany?” His eyes trail over the cap on my head, back to my face. Back to the cap. He’s trying to place me in his class, and this is my quiz.
I crack a smile. “Does it matter?”
Liam laughs then points at my hand. “Where’s your drink?”
“I just knocked back a brewski,” I say, not even understanding the words leaving my mouth. “Told my moms I’d take it easy this weekend. Last time I was home, she claimed she could smell the Budweiser coming out of my pores.”
Liam laughs again. “Moms are always so dramatic.” He slaps me on the back. “But at least you still have yours.” This mofo, though. “I’ll catch you Monday morning.” He begins to head back the way he was going.
“Man, speaking of T and A, you got some lovely ladies up in here,” I say to him, making him pause again. “Feels like I’m at a buffet. Only thing, though.” I step closer to him and smile. “I like a little dark meat, know what I’m saying?”
Liam studies me again, then lets out a smaller laugh than before. “Sorry to disappoint,” he says.
“Really, though,” I continue. “You don’t ever get any sisters around here?”
Liam’s jaw clenches as he glances somewhere over my shoulder. I look behind me at the same hall where he fought with his friend. When I turn back around, he’s staring at me with narrow eyes. “I mean, we don’t discriminate. Anybody could come through here.”
“That’s what’s up.” I snap my fingers like I suddenly remembered something. “I saw a dope one around here about two weeks ago. Skinny braids, light eyes. A little thin in the waist. Know who I’m talking about?”