X F A C T O R by reid
CHAPTER SIX
'Okay'
God, what an awful thing to say. Here I was, practically being asked out by the man of my dreams and that was the only thing I could say. Shame burned in my cheeks as the silence between Trey and I seemed to last for an eternity. Furiously, my mind tried to come up with something, anything, that would keep this from exploding on the launching pad.
"So - do you have a car?" I finally asked, startled at the sound of my own voice.
"Yeah," He said slowly, "Do you want to get ready?"
My stomach knotted as my defenses kicked in. Was he suggesting that I didn't look right? That I didn't look appropriate for being seen with him? I swallowed hard. This wasn't the time to jump to any conclusions.
"I should probably get my wallet," I sighed, "And change my clothes."
"You don't have to change. You look fine."
Just like that, the knot in my stomach went away. It was amazing how quickly things could change sometimes.
As I walked back to the door of my room, my feet felt like they were floating on a cloud. A fluttery feeling rose inside me as I fumbled with the key card, finally sliding it through the slot in a satisfactory manner. The door swung open and I stepped inside, trying to calm myself long enough to find my wallet.
I turned around, "You want to come in?"
He smiled again, "Sure."
For a brief moment, I was nervous as he stepped into the room. I wondered if my lowly dorm room was worthy of his upperclass frat boy tastes. Nervously, I turned around and searched under the layer of books and papers on my dresser. How the hell had I accumulated so much crap on only the first day?
"What do you think?" I asked, sighing with relief as I found the wallet.
"It's cool," He said, inspecting my golf clubs, "I forgot what it's like to live in the dorm system."
My hands desperately tried to shake as I gathered my wallet and my cell phone. I didn't know why, but something drove me to hide my nervousness. My fists clenched so hard the knuckles turned white, my fingernails digging into the palms of my hands.
"You stayed in a dorm?" I asked, trying to sound casual.
"Yeah. I was a freshman once, too."
"Really," I said as I stacked some of the papers in a feeble attempt to look tidy, "I thought you rich boys had your own house or something."
In one swift movement, Trey lifted his leg up and playfully kicked me in the seat of my pants. Even thought it was a wholly casual show of affection, but it to me, it tried to become so much more. Affection wasn't something that I was used to and the sudden onset was disorienting. My throat felt parched as I took a deep breath. How could such a small move be so affecting?
"I guess not." I said, shoving the wallet and cell phone into my pocket.
"We ready?" Trey said, motioning me towards the door.
"We are."
Carefully, I walked out the door and into the hall, but a momentary sensation gave me great pause. I felt a slight pressure on the small of my back. Trey had put his hand there and gently guided me through the door. It was one of those... couple things.
"Sorry," He said after noticing my pause, "Force of habit."
I tried to nod as casually as possible, but it was difficult. Any contact was enough to send me reeling. I wanted so badly to believe that my instincts were telling me - yet my guard stayed up. No photons would pierce my hull - at least not yet. A few more touches on the small of my back would bring them down like the Berlin Wall.
Managing to calm myself, I followed Trey down the stairs and out of the dorm into the balmy evening air. Again - the sea smell in the air. Unlike Los Angeles, the sea smell didn't have the added essence of motor oil and urine. So fresh and so clean, this place seemed to be.
Trey directed me to the left and we walked down the sidewalk. I wasn't surprised when his car turned out to be some 2004 SUV with all the latest trimmings. The inside smelled like new with no hint of wet dog. It seemed like the whole thing was made of pressed leather in a soft tan color. It cushioned me as I sat down, forcing me to admit that it did feel pretty damn sweet. No duct tape on the seats or plastic crosses hanging from the rear view mirror, even.
I buckled the seat belt, "Nice car."
"It's not mine," Trey said as he started the engine, "It's the fr-- house car."
Good save, rich boy.
He pulled the car away from the curb and drove down the street. The air conditioner switched on the car and I shivered a bit, goosebumps standing up on my bare arms. Badly, I wanted to look at Trey. I wanted to just gaze at his features and let myself drift away like I was on a raft in the ocean. But I resisted the urge.
We were halfway towards the food court when Trey began rummaging in his pocket.
"Shit!" He said, checking the other pocket.
"What's wrong?"
"I don't have my wallet."
I tried not to break out laughing but I didn't stifle myself very well.
Trey sighed, "I just need to run into the house and get it. It won't take very long."
I knew what he meant. I knew exactly what he meant. We would be going to - the house. The house on Greek row. There would be underpants in the trees, bowling balls embedded in the sidewalks, piss on the toilet seats, and pirated vending machines filled with GHB and Extacy.
"Is that okay?" He asked.
I nodded as casually as I could. As much as I didn't really want to go there, a certain curiosity began to brew deep inside. Something morbid drove me to agree to go there with him. Like a bad episode of Wild Kingdom, except with frat boys and drunk cheerleaders. Maybe this would be interesting.
Trey turned the car - a 2004 Oldsmobile Bravada, according to the onboard computer - onto Greek Row. Immediately, I was reasonably shocked at how little actual debauchery was going on. The trees were underwear free and well trimmed and the sidewalks were nicely swept. From the open passenger window, I couldn't hear any loud music blaring from inside the houses. My God, it was nicer than the neighborhood my dorm was in.
The Bravada pulled to a stop outside the Phi Kappa Psi house. From the outside, at least, it didn't seem to have any broken windows or togas hanging off the drainpipes. I tried to hide my surprise as best I could.
"You wanna come in?" Trey asked.
Now I was in a tough position. It would have been polite to go inside and see the place - especially if I wanted to deepen my relationship with Trey. On the other hand - it was a frat house and normally, the notion of entering such a place would make me violently ill. Then the curiosity resurfaced and I wondered what kind of zoo the house almost had to be.
"Come on - I'll protect you."
I almost melted but somehow managed to nod and unbuckle my seat belt. Cautiously, I walked up to the porch and waited as Trey opened the door. Out of the corner of my eye, I knew he went to guide me in but pulled back at the last second. Suddenly, I wished that he had done it. The absence of his hand made me feel cold - like someone had pulled a blanket off me in the middle of the night.
As soon as I stepped in the door, I turned to make sure no one was coming up behind me to pull down my pants. That was the last thing I could remember before something very heavy and unyielding bounced off my skull, sending my mind into darkness.
CHAPTER SEVEN
Dully, I knew that I was being lifted and I made my feet walk as best they could. Nothing else, however, was willing to work as my vision was dark and blurred. My skull ached but it was a faraway kind of ache. The kind of ache that's actually worse because you can't really pinpoint it or do anything to make it go away.
I felt something soft meet my body as I shut my eyes tightly and opened them. Thankfully, some of the blurring was going out my eyes but the thick fog over my mind was still present. With a slow determination, I told my hand to go to my head and find out if anything had been cracked open. It was almost like I'd regressed to my most basic mechanical abilities.
When my hand didn't detect anything that felt like exposed brain tissue or cracked skull, I relaxed a bit. Something moved my hand away from the soreness and replaced it with a blessedly cool feeling. Restlessly, I squirmed and tried to talk. As my mind began to regain itself, I began to wonder what the hell had happened.
Inhaling my breath, I tried to sit up but a gentle pressure urged me back down. Trying to sit up made my head hurt and my stomach turn over. I let myself rest back on the soft surface as the cold thing - an ice pack, it had to be - remained pressed against the side of my head. I shut my eyes tightly again and swallowed hard.
Then it all came back to me.
I had gone into the frat house with Trey and just as I'd - gone in, I guess, all I could remember was walking up the porch steps - something must have caught me upside the head. What if this was some sick frat ritual where they tortured a young freshman?! What if they thought I was pledging?! What if - what if they tied me to a fence?!
In a panic, I tried to sit up again. I was determined to fight my way out if I had to and if I was going to die, I'd take at least six guys named Biff right along with me. They had hemophilia, right? That would make it easy.
"Whoa, it's okay." Trey said, the softness in his voice calming me immediately.
I laid back down, still wary as my eyes focused. I was laying on a couch in a kitchen. It was pretty clearly a frat house kitchen, what with the George Foreman grill, limited cooking supplies, and the sink filled with dirty dishes. Other than that, it looked pretty homey and comfortable. Even if it did have a couch.
"What happened?" I said as Trey let me hold the ice pack against my head.
Trey didn't answer at first. He looked over, his face angry and his blue eyes cold than ice. I followed his glare and saw a pathetically sorry young guy leaning against the counter. Apparently, this was the assailant. I tried to get myself angry enough to rip into him, but the melancholy look on his face defused any anger that tried to ferment.
"You got hit with a keg." Trey said ashamedly.
I squinted, "The hell?"
Trey looked at the guy again, "Somebody was carrying a keg full of Molsons through the house and not looking where they were going."
"Does that happen a lot?" I asked, rubbing the back of my neck with my free hand.
"Only when it's the worst possible time," Trey sighed, "Cody, meet Shane. Our resident retard."
Shane laughed sarcastically, "You're hilarious."
He turned to me awkwardly.
"Hey, dude, I'm sorry. I didn't mean to - you know."
"It's okay. I'll only have migraines for the rest of my life - but it's okay."
Shane looked so hilariously yet genuinely sorry that I couldn't help but smile a bit. I felt like I might live after all. With a great heaping spoonful caution, I took the ice pack of my head and sat up. This time, Trey didn't try and stop me. Rather, he helped me sit up and it was such a tender gesture that I nearly felt a lump in my throat.
Trey sat down next to me on the couch. The worn upholstery sagged a bit and I knew that if he'd sat down an inch closer, our hips would be touching. Normally, I would be all fluttery and excited but my head still hurt. I rubbed the aching patch on my skull - wincing at how tight and drawn it felt.
"You should be okay. You don't have a concussion or anything." Shane said, his tone ripe with self importance.
I looked at him wanly.
"Med student." Trey said as he leaned back on the couch.
Shane smiled proudly. God help me, I was starting to like him. The miserable truth began to emerge that maybe frat guys weren't all assholes. Maybe there were some pretty good guys in America's Greek College society.
"Shane?" Trey said.
Shane looked at him, "Hmm?"
Trey didn't say anything else.
Shane nodded and walked out of the room quickly. The realization that Trey and I were alone suddenly dawned on me. Warily, not wanting to come on too strong, I leaned backwards into the couch next to Trey. I blinked my eyes and shook my head, finally feeling at least somewhat lucid again.
"I'm so sorry." Trey said with a laugh as he picked the icepack up and held it against my head.
"It's okay. I had to experience my first kegger at some point."
He laughed again. I still couldn't get over how good it made me feel. It made my stomach flutter. As much as I tried to tell myself, this wasn't a bad omen. This shouldn't represent the sum total of fraternities. It was just an accident.
"You still hungry?" Trey asked, his voice tinged with regret.
I thought for a moment, "Yeah, I am."
Trey didn't say anything for a moment, "Really?"
His voice sounded - relieved. Relieved and happy.
"Well, yeah - I need to eat if I'm going to stave off the brain hemorrhage."
Trey laughed again and took the ice pack off my head, "You think you can walk?"
I steadied myself to try and stand, "If I can't, are you gonna carry me?"
He smiled, "Sure."
Oh yeah. I was starting to flirt back. That was a good sign. I was beginning to get my "sea legs" so to speak. Tentatively, I pushed my weight onto my legs and stood up off the couch. I felt dizzy for a second, but it cleared up and I was able to stand without needing to hold on to anything.
Suddenly I became aware that in my moment of fog, I'd held onto Trey's hand. My mind flashed back to how good it had felt when we'd shaken hands. My God, that had been earlier in the day. It felt like years ago. Decades ago even. I snapped back to reality and reclaimed my hand, trying to smile apologetically.
"Sorry."
"You okay?"
"Yeah, I think so."
Ignoring the dull ache in my head, I made myself walk and followed Trey out of the kitchen and down the hallway. To my shock, there weren't any underpants or togas littered across the floor. There was even a recycling bin under the staircase. It didn't shock me when I saw the pile of dirty clothes at the foot of the stairs. I could forgive that, I supposed, because I'd grown up in a similar situation.
"Wait here. I'll get my wallet." Trey said and jogged up the stairs.
Still blinking my eyes and rubbing the back of my neck, I sighed and looked around the foyer of the frat house. Aside from the slightly fermented odor of the clothes pile, the place smelled quite clean and neat. Angling my neck, I looked over into the living room and saw the large brick fireplace. That there was a true staple of a New England estate.
Shane came around the corner and paused when he saw me. I stopped rubbing my neck and tried to look casual as we stood awkwardly for a few seconds. Again, I tried to work up my best pissy glare but Shane still looked so sorry.
"That keg cost a couple hundred dollars so it's not like you got whacked by cheap beer."
Oh lord, I tried not to smile. Every muscle in my face fought against the urge but it was a losing battle. I rubbed the back of my head a few times and sighed. I knew that I was definitely in trouble if it was tough for me to stay pissed off at a rich kid.
"I'll live."
Another moment of silence.
"You golf, huh?"
How did he know that?
"How did you know that?"
Shane began to sort through the pile of clothes, "Trey mentioned it."
My stomach fluttered but I stayed cool.
"Sweet."
Now that's what you call - fitting in.
"He said you're supposed to save the team or something like that," Shane laughed slightly, "It's more than I could handle."
"Well, they grow us mighty hardy out on the west coast."
Before Shane could respond, Trey came back down the stairs. His footsteps were so heavy and thick. There was just something about him that seemed - watchable. He had a charisma that seemed to grab my attention. I thought to myself that he could probably do damage with such a skill if he found a way to transmit to large audiences.
"Did you hit him with anything?" He asked Shane.
Shane didn't answer as he gathered the clothes and carried them back down the hall.
"Did he hit you with anything?" He asked me.
"No," I sighed, "No he didn't."
But you did.
Every part of me wanted to add that - but I just couldn't.