Page 3 of The Step Don't
“Why don’t you tell me what youdoremember, and we’ll go from there.”
“Up to flip cup.”
“Yeah, why did the resident genius think playing flip cup with vodka instead of beer was a good idea?”
“Because the only thing that rivals my brains is my competitive streak—I thought we were good enough friends that you knew that about me.”
Lance chuckles. “That sounds about right. So you don’t remember dancing on the media console?”
“No.” I groan.
“There was definitely some of that…for a while. Marty kept trying to get you to come down, first by saying this is not the behavior of a future professor, then under threat of your security deposit, so you’ll probably be hearing about that again.”
“I’m sure I will.” Our housemate Marty is all about rules, which really, don’t you need someone like that to make sure everything doesn’t descend into chaos?
I pop my grits into the microwave. “Do you remember the name of that blond guy I was hanging with?”
Lance glances around like he’s scanning his mind for the answer. “Greg…or Bailey? Or did he say he liked Bailey’s?”
“He was Jeff Martin’s friend,” I say, “so maybe I’ll check Jeff’s and his friends’ profiles and search for him there.”
“I can text Jeff and ask.”
“I wanna look cool, so let me aggressively stalk to find him first, and if that doesn’t work, then we can resort to texting him.”
“Yeah, because aggressive social media stalking is so much cooler than just straight up asking.”
“Your sarcasm is noted, but really grating on my hangover right now.”
Lance laughs. “I’m sorry. You really should have slowed down because you had that girl fawning over youthe first part of the night, and then that guy on your ass the rest of it. My bi boy had the world at his fingertips.”
“At least I was making some moves,” I say, glaring at him.
“I still have a wounded heart.”
“You broke up with Shannon forever ago.”
“A few months.” At my look, Lance adds, “Okay, more like five. I can’t just hook up like you or Colin, though. But I can enjoy living vicariously through your stories, and given you had two viable options last night, you should have woken up with someone in your bed.”
If only he knew, and nearly as soon as I have the thought, I hear, “He did wake up with someone in his bed.” Colin rounds the corner, in sweats, a backward cap, and crocs.
“Oh really?” Lance says, his voice full of interest and curiosity. “And who was the lucky someone?”
“I was.” Colin shrugs as he opens the fridge, leaving it there long enough that Lance’s jaw drops. Colin doesn’t seem to be thinking much of the bomb he just set off as he digs through the fridge, nabbing a cup of yogurt.
“Um…” Lance drags out.
“We woke up in bed together,” I explain. “That’s all that happened.”
“It’s not like it’s the first time we’ve ever shared a bed,” Colin tells Lance. “I’m sure you’ve shared a bedwith your brothers.”
“Not after middle school,” Lance says. “And how did you end up in his room last night?”
As Colin fishes through the drawer for a spoon, he says, “When I got him off the media console, he wanted a piggyback ride to his room. Since he wore his contacts for TaskFrat, he started stressing about falling asleep with his contacts in and dying from an eye infection, so he made me swing by the bathroom so he could take them out before we actually made it to his room. Then he seemed to think I’d taken him tomyroom, and that he was kicking me out, and no matter how much I insisted that wasn’t the case, he demanded I stay.”
“Based on what I know of you guys,” Lance says, “this is all adding up, especially the piggyback ride.”
I have been known to demand piggyback rides from Colin. It’s just one of those things we do from when we were younger that clearly other people find weird.