The Plight Before Christmas(114)

That earns me a deserved glare, but I match it before he smirks. The app is a little less risky than the average global randomness. It’s set up for campus students only. Not that that protects me from much. I never thought I would be the guy to use an app to get laid, but desperate times. And CampNookie by title alone is clearly not a dating app.

“You’ve got to get over this shit and make a move,” Troy says, tossing back a shot of Patrón. By shit, he means Nora, the girl I dated and waited for through two years of high school and another year and a half semester at Grand. She’d rewarded my patience by sleeping with some guy she met at a party. I’ve been bandaging that burn for the last year. I’d been patient, I’d been everything she needed me to be, and it wasn’t enough. One night with some random and she’d given him everything I was promised. That fact alone was enough to make me consider BlueBelle2001 a little more seriously.

BlueBelle2001: This isn’t a campus address.

TJGrand: We just rented a house.

BlueBelle2001: Send me a current pic.

She seems cautious, smart enough to look out for herself, which eases my anxiety. I scroll through my photos and pick out the best, most recent shot and send it to her.

BlueBelle2001: Hot.

I can’t help my grin.

TJGrand: Thanks.

BlueBelle2001: Love that shirt.

I’d worn my favorite rugby-style shirt that day.

TJGrand: Thanks, it’s my subtle salute to Harry Potter. You a fan?

BlueBelle2001: Who isn’t?

My smile elevates before the bubbles rapidly start to pop up and disappear.

BlueBelle2001: Wait, which one are you? This is Troy Jenner, right?

All the air leaves my puffed chest, and I keep my groan inward.

TJGrand: No, I’m the guy on the right. Troy’s my roommate. I’m Theo.

The bubbles again pop up and then disappear…for a solid minute.

BlueBelle2001: But Troy’s your roommate?

TJGrand has left the conversation.

I take a better look at my new profile pic and see I used the same damned picture. I judged it on my smile, but by the two hundred or so matches I’ve gotten in the last hour, I can see the mistake of using my short name—first and middle initials—and Troy’s, whose are the same. The picture I chose displaying the two of us equally, only adds to the confusion. To any outsider, it might look like I’m catfishing.

Way to go, Theo.

I delete my profile and then the app and run my hand down my face just as Troy passes me a beer. “Dude, heard you guys killed it tonight.”

“Thanks, you didn’t do so bad yourself,” I say, downing the cool suds.

Troy clinks bottles with me. “Guess you won’t come to the party since you’ve got someone coming?”

“Nah,” I kill the screen, “didn’t work out, she’s too eager.” For you.

“Grab your shit then,” he flashes me his all-American grin. “Let’s get you laid.”

Standing, I grab my keys off the coffee table and study myself in the entry mirror which hangs below the Live Nudes neon sign that Troy brought in to even out the Feng Shui.

Prepping for the night, and a better outcome than my first fail, I run a hand through my wavy hair and grab my light, black sweater from the lip of the couch.

“Yeah,” I counter, eyeing him through the hole of my sweater, “because it’s that easy.” Six years of striking out, endless hand jobs and a half-drunken blow-all from my ex later, I’m still trying to break the seal. “And can we not make my sexual status a public service announcement?”

Troy gives me a pointed look while he gathers our empty bottles from the coffee table. “Sorry, bro, but you’re picky.”

“Standards? You mean, I have standards.” Which I was willing to push aside for BlueBelle2001 just to rid myself the burden of being a twenty-one-year-old virgin. Heading to the kitchen for a glass of water for preliminary damage control, I grimace when I open the cabinet to see the waiting Smirnoff Ice.

“Damnit!”

“You’re too predictable, Houseman.” Kevin chuckles behind me. “Take a knee.”

I’ve been Iced. No one really knows who started this torturous ritual, it just is, like a lot of other Grand traditions. The trick is to hide it cleverly and stand in wait for the bottle to be seen. If you’re caught, no matter the time of day, you kneel and drink. Taking a knee, I twist off the cap and toss it back with a groan.

Troy towers over me, satisfied with my chug until it’s drained. Even when I’m on my feet again, he’s got me beat standing 6’3 to my 5’11. He grins down at me with the smirk that’s incinerated half of Texas Grand University’s thong population. “I have a feeling about tonight.”

“I did,” I mumble before I follow him out the door with Kevin hot on our heels. Kevin’s of similar build, a hulky-looking linebacker and not much for mincing words. Luckily for me, tonight he’s decided to pipe up and kick me when I’m down.

“There’s a girl at this party, I know she will take you on,” Kevin adds as a means of shitty support, totally oblivious to the insult.

“No thanks,” I mutter while locking the door to the house. The house is an older, light blue two-story on a mostly quiet residential street, fifteen minutes away from campus. It’s what anyone else would call a fixer-upper, but it’s my sanctuary. I secured the rental a month before school started in an attempt to live the full college experience. Though I didn’t want to be stuck in a dorm anymore, I didn’t want shit to do with fraternities either. I take my education and personal space seriously, so instead, I opt to attend their parties.