Greek: Double Date, page 14
“You don’t have to go that far in that direction, either,” she said. “Although, it did remind me of our early days, when we both had an allergic reaction to those flowers and ended up in the hospital… But you don’t have to try so hard. I like you for who you are. Sweeping romantic gestures are…well, not necessary all the time. Like when we have other obligations and you’ve been shot up with three different people’s EpiPens.”
“How not shocking was it that everyone seemed to have one?” he said, and she laughed. “You should have seen it. It was like a horde. A horde of highly allergic people.”
“I would prefer to see you not involved in any EpiPen-related horde. I would prefer to see you in bed.”
“Is that an offer?”
“Okay, now you’re not being romantic enough.” But they both knew exactly what she meant. Rusty needed to lie down and sleep for a very long time. Unfortunately, he refused to. “What is it with you?”
He actually stood, on two feet, without any help. “I’m getting a second wind. Hold on.”
“What now?”
“I have to make it up to you. Missing the formal.” He turned on his MP3 player and the stereo set it was attached to.
“You are way more obsessed with me missing the formal than I am.”
“It’s not about the formal.” He finally found what he was looking for, and the music came on. It was soft—and romantic. “It’s that magic moment of the last slow dance with your girlfriend.”
She sighed. He had such an enticing smile. “And after this, you’ll rest?”
“The last dance does signal the end of the night. That’s why it’s special.”
“So, yes.”
He grinned and took her hand, and they danced the remaining night away in the living room. There was no dance floor, or drunken antics of bored people behind them, or other couples around them. But there was music, there was dancing, and they had each other. For the last dance, it was more than enough.
Casey Cartwright remembered three previous dances, dances that hadn’t ended halfway into the cocktail hour.
Freshman year she’d taken Cappie to a mixer. They were both pledges, and Evan and Cappie were nominally still friends. That relationship would slowly disintegrate—mainly over her—but Casey didn’t know that yet. She didn’t know what the future held for her, only that it was college, and if she made it through rushing, it was going to be awesome. She had an adorable boyfriend and a bid at the coolest sorority on campus. Any freshman jitters were behind her, at least finals. She had even avoided the freshman fifteen despite all the late-night pledge snack-related study breaks. Cappie had told her he had never seen her look more beautiful, and she believed him.
Sophomore year, she’d moved beyond her freshman mistakes—taking the wrong classes, making the wrong friends and dating the wrong guy. Seeing Cappie still hurt, just a little, but it was easily forgotten when she was beside Evan, whose presence was near constant. Now that she was no longer a pledge, her responsibilities at ZBZ were exactly where she wanted them, and she had a guy in a more suitably matching fraternity than Kappa Tau. Zeta Beta Zeta and Omega Chi were the prom king and queen of campus, to use such adolescent, high-school terms, and Evan made her feel like a queen all on her own.
Casey remembered the dancing at a mixer junior year. It was tense, Evan’s arms twitching slightly when he held her, almost too tightly, because he didn’t want to lose her. And he was close. The only reason she was still with him after he slept with Rebecca was because Frannie had talked her into it, or so she told herself. In his worst moments Evan would remind Casey that she’d had her revenge by sleeping with Cappie again, essentially making them even. She’d never felt they were even. Evan had cheated on her, even if it was with only one person. He claimed to have had no feelings for Rebecca, but the sex had obviously thrilled him, or so it looked on the grainy video Jen K. had sent to Casey’s cell phone. Casey and Cappie just…fell in together, almost as if they needed to jog their memories of a better moment from their freshman year. Evan was right and wrong; it evened the score, but it didn’t fix the problem. Soon after the formal, their relationship was over, and her future seemingly down the drain. Her life was no longer planned to be alongside Evan’s in every way, from studying law together to marrying him. But at the formal itself, when they danced, the problems had gone away, if only for the length of the five-minute song.
And then there was Max, and last year’s ZBZ formal, which might have made up for the disaster with Evan. At the time, it felt as though it did. She was in love with Max. She was convinced of it, but as it turned out, he was far more convinced of it than she was, to obsessive levels she couldn’t handle. Or could she have tried harder? He’d treated her so well, but he hadn’t made her smile like Cappie always did. He was reasonable in his expectations—he was a graduate student and she was a senior. It made sense to be looking forward, which was why he’d lavaliered her, even if it wasn’t his tradition as an engineering grad, only to have her hand it back to him, as she’d handed one back to Evan not long before. The item that was supposed to be endowed with so much meaning now held little for her, except when it came to having her heart broken, often by her own doing. In other words, she was a walking romantic disaster. That wasn’t Max’s fault, and he hadn’t deserved it. That was why she’d let him go.
“Why the long face?”
Here she was, her senior year, having abandoned the All-Greek Formal and the possibility of romance for reasons she didn’t fully understand. Was it her promise to Dale? The fact that Rob had brought it up? The prospect of financial considerations? Sympathy for her brother, lost without his Jordan for a single evening? And she hadn’t fled at the sight of Cappie, either. She wasn’t afraid of him. She could handle him. She could be around him on the night of the formal and not immediately think of freshman year.
It occurred to her that she had to answer him. “Oh, just thinking about…memories. You know, formals. From the past three and a half years.”
Cappie nodded. “I hear you.” He paused, then added, “Actually I can’t—this music is really loud.”
“Head trauma.”
“Yeah, I’m hearing that a lot tonight,” he said. “But I think they’re playing a slow song next.”
“They have slow songs?”
“It was on his CD. Something about Jesus.”
“Jesus likes slow songs?”
They were shouting to hear each other. “No, it’s called something else. Definitely slow, though. Like a love song but with ‘Jesus’ instead of ‘baby.’ Maybe he stole the lyrics.”
“I can’t imagine Dale stealing anything.”
“Good point.” And just like that, the music level went down as Darwin Lied transitioned into their next song.
“This song is dedicated to some good people who raised themselves above their sinning brethren to be with me tonight,” Dale said, “saved by the Grace of God. And epinephrine.”
No doubt that got far fewer cheers than Dale wanted, but he was probably used to the college crowd by now.
“Still a decent band. A little weird, but decent.” Cappie stood up and offered his hand. “Dance?”
“What?”
“I’m assuming you’re familiar with the term,” he said. “And you had to miss your special formal slow dance because of various people you are not dating, a bad selection for the main course and, let’s face it, the opportunity to see a dean get a punch off on me.”
“I think it was more like his elbow. In your face. Eye.” But she did take his hand and follow him out to the dance floor. She was still in her formal dress, though her lipstick was long gone, and she was barefoot, and no attempt could be made to salvage her hairdo. Cappie was in a similar state of undress, his tie stuffed in his pocket and his shirt and jacket stained from being knocked around—she had seen him look better, but she had seen him worse.
And it was the last dance.
“What are you thinking about?”
“I’m having a little trouble imagining anything but the various implements that feel like they’re being drilled into my eye. Why do you ask?” Before she could answer, he said, “What are you thinking about?”
She had to admit it. It was so hard to lie to Cappie. At least while they were slow dancing. “Freshman year.”
“Wow. That is way beyond my cognitive abilities right now. Although, I am remembering attempting to pull off a bow tie.”
“Yeah. It was purple.”
“Did that make it worse or better?”
“It blended better, but I still don’t recommend it.”
“I remember…you saying that you liked it.”
“I was neutral,” she admitted, “but I wanted to say something nice. And I liked that you didn’t look like everyone else. Tuxedos make guys kind of…clone-y.”
“I thought it made us look like James Bond.”
“You are way too shaggy to be James Bond. Which is fine. He’s kind of a womanizer when you think about it. I wouldn’t want to go out with him.”
“But you’d sleep with him?”
She rolled her eyes. “He’d have to save me from something involving sharks or laser beams from space before I would commit.”
“I can get goldfish. They die pretty quickly under my care, though. So I can get you dead goldfish, easy. Just give it a day. The laser rays may take more time. Do they have to be from space or can they be from a laser pointer?”
She giggled and leaned into him. Dead fish shouldn’t have been so funny, she supposed, but it was late, she was tired and she was dancing her final dance of the night of the All-Greek Formal at an engineering after-party with Christian rock music crooning in the background. And just as she had at her first formal, she was doing it with Cappie.
“So, did you have a nice night?”
Evan escorted Rebecca from the formal, where things were wrapping up and people were moving to their various after-parties. Evan would probably just return to the Omega Chi house, but not before he took Rebecca back to ZBZ, because she was his date for some reason and it was the right thing to do. The thing guys who wore vests and ties on a regular basis despite a lack of dress code did. The thing knights did.
“Surprisingly so,” was Rebecca’s answer. “Thanks for the escort.”
“From the way you framed it, I thought I was going to have to fight this guy.”
“Yeah, and he left early. Maybe you’re just very intimidating.”
“I don’t even know who this guy is. Which reminds me…”
She looked away, not eager to be reminded.
“You did promise.”
“And you didn’t get drunk enough to forget. I suppose some of that was my fault.”
“Yeah, me keeping my cool and all is your fault.” He shook his head. “You’re Rebecca Logan. You’re not afraid of your big sister or your president or Nationals or being drunk on YouTube—”
“I’m not a fan of dogs.”
“Well, yeah.” Their joint attempt to fight off a guard dog after Rebecca’s car had been impounded with her much-needed laptop in it had been…memorable. Evan still wasn’t sure how he’d gotten sucked in to helping her with that, but that had been the start of their new…well, he wouldn’t exactly call it friendship, but friendly acquaintanceship. “The point is, you’re not afraid of anybody. So why this guy, whose name now escapes me if I was even told it in the first place?”
“Robert. His name is Robert.”
“And you promised.”
“Not in writing!”
He stopped on the sidewalk, metaphorically and physically putting his feet on the ground. “What’s up?”
“Would this stay just between you and me?”
Evan shrugged. “Who else would I tell?”
“Fine.” And when she continued walking, he followed her. The campus was remarkably quiet for a Saturday night. “I was in high school, and Robert was a senatorial aid for the summer in my father’s office.”
He had a hunch where this was going, as nothing that included her father tended to be good, but he just said, “Okay.”
“I had this friend, Lindsey. She was my idol. I was just a lowly sophomore and she was a senior, but we’d been friends through my mom’s family for years. She was accepted early to Yale, and it was her last summer, so my father offered her this ridiculously well-paying job pushing papers in his office because the only other thing to do in our hometown was be a camp counselor, and she needed money, so I talked him into it.”
“Okay,” he repeated, now even surer of the direction of this conversation.
“Robert and Lindsey started going out. At first I was jealous because he was kind of cute, but then just annoyed because it was my last summer to hang out with Lindsey and she was always hanging out with Robert. And this was all before I learned not to stop by my father’s office late in the day and unannounced.”
He didn’t say anything. There was nothing he could say.
“I saw enough. Next to nothing is still enough. Lindsey was sleeping with my father’s chief of staff, and Dad didn’t want anyone to find out because there would be an ethics probe, so Robert was covering for both of them. He was never going out with her. He just said that to make her schedule seem busy and because my father threatened to fire him if he didn’t—or so he said. Robert left for the summer, Lindsey went to Yale, the staffer took another job, and my dad…is still my dad. The one person I can’t get away from.”
“Did he apologize?” He added quickly, “I mean Robert.”
“He did, but he acted like it was nothing, like I shouldn’t be freaking out. Lindsey was eighteen and could make her own decisions. Like it was no big deal that my best friend—my aunt’s goddaughter—was a slut.”
“And how old was Robert?”
“Sixteen.”
He had to venture into more dangerous territory to continue the conversation. “So what is he like now?”
“I don’t know and I don’t want to know.”
“It has been five years. People change.”
Rebecca glared at him, and she was so very good at that. It gave him chills even though he was expecting it. “Are you defending him?”
“No. You know I’m not. What he did was…well, he was a jerk. But that was four years ago and now…I don’t know, maybe he’s moved on. Matured.”
“How do I know that?”
“You could ask.”
“I have no obligation to him.”
“Look, Rebecca,” Evan said with a sigh, “you can do whatever you want. You can never speak to him again. But it sounds to me like he represents the problems you have with your dad, and that’s what’s really bothering you about him. You don’t need anything left over from high school or your parents to ruin your life. Face him or forget him. Either way it’ll be over with, and you can go to the next formal alone or with a date or however you want to do things.” He added, “Though I did appreciate the invitation.”
Rebecca rarely flinched, but after a moment, she did. “You’re right.”
“I am? I’m being told a lot lately that I’m not very motivational.”
“Face him or forget him. It’s a good motto.” She gripped her purse extra tightly when she shook it for emphasis. “If it comes up—if he and Casey wind up dating—I will do something about it.” She straightened up, not that she was slumping much. “Thank you.”
“You’re very welcome.”
She let go of his hand, so he could go one way, and she the other. Charged with yet another secret to keep—college seemed to be full of them—he walked back to Omega Chi in time for the tail end of their after-party. It wasn’t a particularly rocking event, but it was better than a quiet house.
“Should I ask how your date was?” Calvin said as Evan entered.
“I think by asking that you basically already did,” Evan replied, removing his tie. “Yes, you can ask, and it was fine. Normal. Not bad or traumatic or devastating.” Unlike his previous formal, when he was still dating Casey, which had been devastating because he was trying to avoid the oncoming disaster that would soon engulf them both and he knew it. “It was just a nice night.” He shook his fist at his little brother. “No rumors about me and Rebecca. It was a favor. A fun favor, but a favor.”
“You can get along with women and dance with them and talk privately with them without dating them,” Calvin said as Evan passed him. “You just have to be related—or gay.”
“I heard that,” Evan grumbled, but decided not to confront Calvin, and instead turned in for bed.
chapter thirteen
Evan was long gone when Rebecca returned to the Zeta Beta Zeta house, as sororities and fraternities had to be situated with a mandatory length between them, an old-school rule still on the books. The house was lit but quiet, and she was alone—except for Robert Howell, sitting on the front steps.
“What the hell are you doing here?” Maybe it wasn’t the most dignified opening shot, but at least it was a shot.
He stood, and he was much taller than she remembered. “Waiting for Casey.”
“Didn’t she invite you into the house?”
“No. She isn’t back yet. That’s why I’m on the porch.” He moved aside so he wasn’t blocking her entrance. “Look, if you want to pass me by, that’s fine. I can deal. But can I ask why you’re spreading rumors that I’m some kind of demon before I even get my foot in the door at CRU?”
“I did no such thing.”
He huffed. “You said something to get everyone fired up, because that’s all people have been saying behind my back. I couldn’t get away from the formal fast enough.”
“So that’s why you let Casey ditch you.”
“No. She wanted to leave and so did I, so we left. Hostile atmosphere, conflicting schedules—we each had our reason.”
“Why should I believe you?”
“Because it’s the truth?” Rob said. “Maybe we should start over. Hi, Rebecca, it’s been six years—”
“Five.”
“Five years. What have you been up to?”
