Chasing Peace (4 page)

Boston stops at the steps to Sandborne. “Can I ask you
something?” He shoves his fists into his pockets and bounces his foot off the
lowest step. He’s wearing Chucks and I watch as the rubber toe collides with
the step, bounces back and then swings forward again as if he’s kicking it.

“Sure.” I watch his face, not bothered by his eyes right now
because he seems to have trouble meeting mine.

His foot hits the stair, bounces back, hits the step again. “Do
you work tonight?”

“No, only Fridays and Saturdays.” I pause and then begin
speaking, but our words collide.

“Would you like to do….”

“About tonight….”

I laugh, nervous again after botching the question. His toe
stops kicking into the step and he finally looks at me.

“Sorry Sterling. Go ahead”

“I was gonna say that I’m going to a party tonight with my
friend Annie. You?”

He laughs, his eyes crinkling as they reflect the gold and
amber colored leaves clinging tenaciously to the surrounding trees. “I was
going to ask if you wanted to hang out tonight, but you already have plans….”

“You wanna come with us?” I blurt as my eyes slide away and
my courage ebbs.

“You sure?”

I’m not sure of anything, but a thrill courses through me at
the possibility and I shiver, not the cold shiver of death passing by, instead
the heated pulse of hope. “I don’t know … yeah.” Unable to bear his eyes
pinning me down, I duck my head.

“Then yes I’ll come. It sounds like fun.”

My mind chants, He said yes! He said yes! “We’re meeting at
the sandwich shop at the south end of campus at ten. Good?”

“Great. I’ll meet you there.” He starts up the steps,
landing on the third before pausing. “Wait. I’m going this way.” He points away
from the building, laughing at himself.

“I’m going this way.” I point toward the building and smile.

He jumped the three steps and I stand staring as he jogs
down the sidewalk, turning back to wave when he reaches the end.

Heading into class, I think about how he looked when I
asked. He looked like someone who’d won the lottery and might just grab and
kiss a stranger on the street. Realization dawned. Damn! He’d been asking me
out. I hope this isn’t a mistake. It doesn’t feel like a mistake, although
Logan and Brock didn’t feel like mistakes at the time either. Walking into
philosophy, I search for Annie. She saved me a seat. That’s when I remember I
can still try to get Boston and Annie together.

“All of the above. You’ll love him,” I say, talking up
Boston for Annie’s benefit. I want to convince her he could be the man of her
dreams.

We’re at the sandwich shop meeting up for the party. The
place is an eclectic mix of mismatched furniture in comfortable groupings with
dim lighting. It’s a study in texture in both the decor and the variety of
students who enjoy the place. Everyone is welcome and it’s a popular spot on
campus that serves up the best coffee.

“Doesn’t matter what I think. You’re the one who has to love
him.”

I laugh. I guess I need to be more clear. “He’s not for me.
I’m not interested in dating right now. I think he’d be perfect for you though.”
I feel a momentary twinge because I’m pretty sure Boston is interested in me,
but I’m not ready for a relationship with him or anyone else right now. Timing
is everything, so I brush off my concerns. If he thinks I might be interested,
he’s dead wrong. I have nothing to give and everything to lose, so I’m not
going there. Besides, I’m sure he’ll like Annie just fine.

“Listen Sterling,” Annie counsels as if she’s got a great
truth to reveal. “I’m in a relationship right now, so even if I might have been
interested, in another time or another place, I’m already committed.”

“Who’s the guy?” I ask, as the fact that we barely know each
other registers.

“I met him in the Hamptons this past summer and we hit it
off.” Her eyes don’t go soft. There’s no dopey smile and no far-off expression.
I don’t believe she loves him, but that doesn’t always matter. I’m a firm
believer that love isn’t all it’s cracked up to be.

“He’s not here right?”

“Right….” Annie hesitates as she agrees with me.

“So long distance relationships never work, especially at
our age. You should keep your options open.”

I had no further chance to convince her as Boston arrived.

“Hey.”

“Hi. Boston” I respond, a little awkward, but more
comfortable with my plan to push Annie and Boston together. “This is my friend
Annie. Annie, I told you about Boston.” Both are looking at me neither looking
toward the other.

He looks even better dressed casually than he does wearing a
suit at work. He has a snug long sleeve tee under the same distressed leather
jacket that caressed my cheek on Tuesday. I bet he paid a pretty penny for the
look. Unlike a lot of other guys, Boston’s jeans are plain with a thick black
leather belt. A chunky silver buckle bumps out over his lean stomach and black
boots that lace up the front finish the look.

Annie is drop-dead gorgeous in a bright fuchsia dress, the
skirt snug and stretchy and gathered across her hips. The top is half pink,
half black and sleeveless. The black crosses over the pink in front somewhere
between her breasts, creating a deep vee.

An oversized black watch on one wrist and a giant black ring
shaped like an orchid are her only accessories. Tall platform pumps make her my
height and her hair, up in back and down in front with feathery bangs and sides
looks immaculate yet messy. Bare arms and legs are luminous. In deference to
the cooling autumn temperatures, she has a black and silver pashmina draped
over one arm.

I’m dressed casually in my best jeans with white designs in
thick stitching on the back pockets. A loose grey tee with a tribal design in
black and grey with red accents across the front ends at my belt. Like Boston’s,
it’s worn black leather with a hefty, but more feminine buckle. I have short
boots that are comfortable for standing and walking, but not comfortable enough
to dance. I don’t dance and wearing the wrong shoes gives me a good excuse if
someone tries to push.

No one spoke, making me uncomfortable as I look back and
forth between Boston and Annie. For some reason, I’m nervous around Boston and
I think Annie can tell.

Then he really surprised me. “It’s nice to meet you Annie.”
Boston turned toward Annie taking her hand, like he might shake it, but instead
he rests his other hand on her bare upper arm as he leans in to kiss her cheek.
Wait ... what? Do they already know each other? Alarm bells clang inside my
head and I’m now more worried than confused. What the hell?

“It’s a pleasure to meet you,” Annie says as she steps away,
her voice smooth and polite, polished like they were meeting at a garden party.

They didn’t know each other. My equilibrium returns as I
watch Annie checking out Boston, interested and assessing. I felt a momentary
jolt at the notion of pushing them together.

“Maybe we should go,” I say, even more uncomfortable
standing around while they’re checking out each other. I’m not sure what I
expected, but this lump forming in my stomach and expanding into my throat wasn’t
it.

“Yes, let’s,” Annie says as she wraps one arm around Boston’s
bicep while holding on with the other hand, her breasts pressed above his
elbow. “Tell me Boston, how do you and Sterling know each other.”

I follow behind rolling my eyes at her antics. I’m
irritated, but not because I’m interested in Boston. Sure I think he’s cute.
Sure I enjoy his friendship, at least so far, but no, I don’t want a
relationship. I’ve had enough trouble with boyfriends over the past five years
and I can’t imagine getting involved with anyone ever again.

Annie drives a sleek black sport utility. I could see her in
a sports car or even a chauffeured town car or limo, but a sport utility doesn’t
quite fit. I offered Boston the front seat in spite of the pang threatening my
stomach when thinking about them sitting up front together. Thankfully he
declined, almost pushing me into the front seat while he went around, climbing
in behind Annie.

* * *

The frat house looked nothing like I expected. I thought a
stately old town home, similar to those in the neighborhood, but tattered and
poorly maintained like Animal House. Instead we found an ultra modern building
in sleek metal, dark concrete and lots of glass. We parked almost two blocks
away. As we approached, I marveled at how the modern design meant to be Spartan
looked so chaotic with people streaming from every opening.

Students spilled out on the front patio and drive,
overflowing the second and third level balconies and hanging over the rail on
the rooftop deck. Laughter, shrieking and music filled the air. At almost
eleven, I hoped the neighbors didn’t mind, although I suppose they’re probably
college students too and many would be at the party.

As we enter, I’m amazed at tattered and abused furniture,
light fixtures with broken bulbs and missing glass shades. Nearly every wall
bore the marks of mistreatment, their finish scared and dented. The house might
be new, but its guardians treated it poorly.

“What should we do first?” I ask feeling uncomfortable and
not exactly sure what people do at parties.

“Let’s find the bar.” Annie had her arms wrapped around
Boston’s bicep again.

“I’m going to have a look around,” he said, disengaging from
Annie. “I’ll catch up with you soon.”

“Wow. This is nothing like I expected. I guess I don’t know
what I expected.” We pick and squeeze our way through the crowd, sometimes
making full-body contact with people we’ve never met as we slide through. We
meet some in less than ideal circumstances while also enduring a few grabs and
pinches along the way.

While the living room had been crowded, easily twice the
number of people packed the dining room like sardines. An old door balanced on
barrels served as a bar and created a barrier between the dining room and
kitchen. Tons of people stood around talking and drinking. Annie pushed her way
to the bar and asked for vodka straight, “And make it a double, so I don’t have
to brave this crowd again too soon.”

“Annie you’re driving. You can’t drink.” Drunk driving is a
deal breaker for me and I’m surprised that Annie doesn’t take it seriously.

“Are you drinking?”

“No.” I don’t drink, let alone drink and drive.

“Good. You can drive.” She hands over her keys.

I don’t feel good about driving such an expensive car when
mine is worth about two hundred bucks on a good day. Still, I tuck the keys
into my pocket, making sure she won’t have access. “I’m not sure I’m
comfortable with this Annie.”

“Come on Sterling. Live a little.”

I give in for now and we make our way back to the living
room, Annie with a plastic cup in hand.

“So whaddya wanna do?” I shout over the noise of blaring
music and hundreds of voices trying to talk above the din.

“Let’s hang out a minute, see what’s going on. Maybe we’ll
find a seat.”

Haunting the sidelines until a chair opens up, I watch two
girls, each with their mouths on the end of a short tube filled with a brightly
colored gelatinous substance. Another wearing a bikini poured booze from a
white bottle onto her chest and encouraged passing guys to lick it off.

Without a designated space for dancing, couples and groups
danced where they stood lending an undulating quality to the room. I saw cash
exchange hands for what I thought must be drugs as well as hookups right there
in the living room. In their defense, I’m sure most everyone is wasted.

“I’m going to go find a bathroom. You wait here, see if you
can find a seat,” said Annie.

“I’ll show you where,” said the guy to Annie’s left.

Bathroom my ass. Okay, well maybe bathroom, but they’re off
to find some privacy. I don’t mind being left behind and I wonder about the
relationship Annie mentioned earlier, telling me she’s committed and then going
off with the first guy she meets. Oh wait, they didn’t actually meet. They just
went off together.

I’m leaning against the wall abandoned by my friends and
trying to stay away from the sardine crush. I have zero interest in sliding my
body against strangers just to make it through the crowd.

“Crazy huh?”

I don’t realize he’s talking to me until I don’t hear anyone
else respond. Looking around I see him staring right at me and he’s gorgeous.

He has raven black hair that reminds me of the runner’s
tattoo and green eyes so clear and bright they call to mind the earliest grass
of spring. He’s tall too. At least he’s taller than me, but he’s young, too
young for me. Besides, I’m not looking for anyone right now.

I look away, without responding.

“I’ll tell you what. If you can tell me the name of this
frat, I’ll leave you alone.”

The logical part of my brain perks up, wondering what he
might be doing. He has confidence. That’s for sure.

“I can tell you more than that. You’re a high achiever,” I
say. “You play football and are part of a fraternity, but not this one. You
were raised middle to upper middle class. Your eyes say artist or poet, but
your haircut is too sharp. I’d say you’re studying engineering. You were raised
by a single mother and you live with a cat.”

His eyes go bright as I talk and his mouth droops in shock
by the time I’m done.

“Oh, and one more thing, I’m not here to meet a frat guy.”

Lyla calls it reading people I just tell it like I see it.

“How’d you do that?”

“What? Oh,” I grin. “Right on all counts huh?”

“Am I being punked?”

Now I laugh. “Hey, you came to me. I’m Sterling.”

“No. You’re prettier than silver.”

“Tired,” I say, drawing out the word, emphasizing the lack
of originality in his comment. “I’ve heard it a thousand times.” He blushed at
being shot down when he thought himself clever.

“Sorry. I’m Luke. How’d you do it?”

“You’re obviously athletic, but too bulky for baseball,
basketball, soccer and crew. That leaves football and Lacrosse. Football’s more
popular, so a safe bet. You’re familiar with the Greek alphabet and obviously
not involved with theatre, so it’s got to be a frat. The logos on your clothing
tell me they come from department stores rather than high-end designer or
discount big box.”

“Wow. I’m impressed, but what makes you think I’m not a poet
if I have the eyes for it?”

“Your eyes make you look thoughtful, so I threw in the stuff
about looking artistic. However, your haircut is too sharp for someone in a
creative field. It’s more staid, maybe military, but you’re here and this
school is known for engineering. One of the frats is engineers.”

“Well done. So how did you know about the cat?”

I reached toward him and plucked a silky white hair off his
shirt. “It’s the first week of classes. There hasn’t been enough time to shed
all the cat hair from home.”

He laughed. “For a minute there, I thought you were a
genius, but you’re wrong about the cat. It’s not mine. It belongs to my mother.”

“No genius here. I rely on educated guesses and my amazing
powers of observation.”

He leans closer, tipping his head toward mine. “Why did you
throw in that you’re not here to meet a frat guy.”

“Why else would you ask me to name the frat, because you wanted
to know if I am to meet frat guys? You shouldn’t underestimate women like that.”

“What do you mean?”

“The name is spelled out in giant letters on the front of
the building. I, for example, am here for the party, not a frat guy, but I
couldn’t miss that this is alpha, sigma, phi on my way in, unless I’m blind.
Then there’s the wall behind you.”

He turned to look at the Greek letters painted in impressive
proportions on the living room wall.

Blushing now he says, “You should know that most girls here
couldn’t read those letters if their social life depended on it, unless they’re
here to meet a frat guy or already in a sorority.”

“Okay, I’ll give you that.”

“Hey, would you like to sit?”

A few people to my left had moved and Luke spotted the
chair.

“You sit. I’m fine here.”

“My mom would kill me if I sat and left you standing. Either
you sit or we both stand.”

“Fine, I’ll sit. My friend Annie might like a chair when she
gets back.”