he was just waiting for me? At night, in my bed, after I had wiped my come off myself with a Kleenex and lay there staring at the ceiling, wondering if the day would ever come when he would want me again, I would decide to be more assertive—to grow some balls, to know what I wanted and go for it. But in the light of day, when I was face to face with him, I just couldn’t bring myself to do it, to say anything. There was no amount of beer or pot I could have inside of me that would make a difference, that could give me the courage to say, Blair, I want you, I want to kiss you and hold you, and run my tongue down your happy trail, and put your dick in my mouth.
And so, he would drive me home and drop me off, give me a friendly wave at the foot of the driveway, and then drive off. I would stand there in the yellow light from the street lamp, watching his tail lights disappear down the street before I would go into the house and go to bed and miss him.
You just need some experience.
But where would I get it from? And with whom?
“I won’t be in class tomorrow, so I won’t be picking you up,” Blair said one Wednesday night as he dropped me off. “Just come by the house after class, and we can hang out then.”
“Why aren’t you coming to class?” I asked. Blair was very serious about attendance. I was always ready and willing to skip class every day to spend it with him. But Blair always insisted: “You can pull a C just by showing up every day.”
“Because I have a doctor’s appointment—nothing serious,” he added hastily when he saw the look on my face. “Just a check-up, that’s all, I’ve been putting it off for a long time and Mom goes nuts on me about shit like that, so I’m going in tomorrow.” He scowled. “I keep telling her I’ll do it when I go back to LA in a couple of weeks, but—”
“You’re going back to LA?” My heart sank to my feet. It was the first I’d heard of these plans.
“Well, yeah. Summer session’s over, so I’m going to go stay with my dad for a few weeks.” He gave me a funny look. “It’s not the end of the world, you know. You can still come by the house every day—everyone likes you, you’re a shoo-in to get a bid during rush—and it’s only for a few weeks until school starts again.”
“So you’ll be gone during my birthday?” I felt incredibly betrayed, and struggled to keep a handle on my emotions.
“It’s not that big…” he sighed. “Look, we’ll talk about this sometime when you’re not so stoned, okay?”
I got out of the car and slammed the door. He sat there a moment, looking at me, before he finally shrugged and drove off. Almost immediately, I was sorry. I got out my cell phone and almost called—but then decided it wasn’t a good idea. And besides, was it so wrong to be disappointed that my so-called best friend wouldn’t be in town for my birthday? Was he really so selfish that he couldn’t understand why that would bother me?
He doesn’t really like you, that voice kept telling me as I undressed, otherwise he wouldn’t be gone for your birthday. And he never once mentioned that he was going home for a few weeks after summer session ended. Never once, and he had plenty of opportunities. You’re not really his friend. You’re just someone to hang out with until everyone comes back this fall.
I didn’t sleep well that night. I kept alternating between hurt and anger, would start to drift off to sleep after a while—and then my mind would start up again.
Just come by the house and hang out, everyone likes you.
Doesn’t he understand the only reason I even go over there is for him?
I finally decided, Fuck him, I’ll come home after class.
And then I was finally able to go to sleep.
But once class was over and I was in my car, I found myself driving over to the house. I’ll just see if he’s there and if he’s not, I won’t stay.
The Lexus wasn’t in the parking lot, but I drove in anyway.
I parked the car and got out. I stood there for a minute, debating, and then decided to just go ahead and go inside and wait.
I waved up at Jerry in the window and he waved back down to me with a smile. I can always get high with Jerry, I thought as I went into the downstairs hall.
“Hey man, Blair’s not here,” Rory Armagh called as I walked past his room.
I stopped and walked back to his door. “Blair’s not the only reason I come by the house, ya know,” I said with a big smile. “I’m going to pledge.”
“That’s cool, man. Beta Kappa’s a great house—best one on campus, don’t let anyone tell you different.” Rory was lying on his bed with his big hands behind his head. He was only wearing a pair of white BVD’s, which did nothing to disguise the huge bulge. I tried to keep my eyes on his face. “You wanna get high, bro?” he asked. “I got some killer stuff from my guy last night.”
I shrugged. “Sure.” Why the hell not? Be nice to have a buzz when Blair gets here.
“Shut the door then.”
I stepped inside and shut the door behind me, reaching for a towel to place under it. It was silly, but smoking pot inside the house was a $250 fine. Everyone assured me it was never enforced, but it was on the books because the university required it. “We have to have a strict no-drug policy,” Jerry had said, rolling his eyes when I asked him about it. “Just like we’re not allowed to let underage people drink.”
The drug rules were disregarded completely by every house on fraternity row. Everyone referred to Sigma Chi, just across the mall for example, as Sigma High. Legend held that Sigma Alpha Epsilon parties were always full of high school-age girls, getting drunk and getting laid.
No, all you had to do, everyone assured me, was try to make sure the smell wasn’t too obvious in the hallway and no one cared. Everyone smoked, so unless it was totally obvious, or a parent was in the house, no one turned anyone else in. All you needed to do was put a towel across the foot of the door to block the smoke, and if you really wanted to cover it up, light incense.
After I had finished putting the towel in its place, I straightened back up. Rory hadn’t bothered to put on shorts or anything, and was holding what had to be the biggest bong I had ever seen. It stood on the floor at least three feet high between his legs, and had at least three chambers and scores of little plastic tubes running between them. He grinned at me. “You’ve never smoked out of the monster, have you?”
“No,” I replied, my eyes wide.
“You are about to officially become initiated into the stoner fraternity. This ride is not for small-fry.” He was loading pot into five bowls that sat in the front of the huge contraption. All five of the bowls were carved into a single piece of round metal. He winked at me. “Watch carefully, and learn…and don’t feel bad if you can’t handle it at first. Even I had trouble the first time.”
I sat down beside him on the ratty love seat as he flicked a lighter to flame and bent his head down over the mouth. He started inhaling as he held the lighter to one bowl, and the lowest chamber filled with smoke. He then deftly lifted the round piece of metal, and turned it so another bowl went into the tubing, and burned it, still inhaling. Smoke snaked from the first chamber through two pipes into another chamber. He then switched in another bowl, still inhaling, as the smoke moved from the second chamber into a third—and finally, as he switched the fourth bowl in, into the final chamber. He turned his head, exhaled, and then put his mouth back on top of the bong. He inhaled for longer than I thought humanly possible and raised his head, placing one hand over the opening. He smiled at me, opened his mouth, and blew out a gigantic cumulus cloud. “Gooooood stuff.” He passed the contraption over to me, his hand still over the top. “When I take my hand off, just put your mouth down and inhale as deep and as long as you can. You got it?”
I nodded and did as ordered. As I inhaled, I could feel the smoke moving down my throat into my lungs. It was pungent, more pungent than