wear a shirt that shows off your tits so I have something to entertain me if I get bored.”
She let out a small, breathy laugh, managing to sound both girlish and seductive. “You have yourself a deal.”
----
It was exactly what I’d expected: a serial renter to poverty-level graduate students, and an entirely familiar scene.
I was hit with a small wave of nostalgia as we stepped inside the cramped apartment.
The two couches were droopy futons, with stained, drab covers. The television was propped on a board balanced between two milk crates. The coffee table looked like it had seen better days, before having some very baddays, and then had been given to these guys to trash further. In the kitchen, a horde of bearded, hipster grad students huddled around a keg of Yuengling and there were assorted half-full bottles of cheap booze and mixers on the counter.
But from the look on Hanna’s face you’d think we just stepped into heaven. Beside me, she bounced a little and then reached for my hand, squeezing it. “I’m so glad you came with me!”
“Seriously, have you actually ever been to a party before?” I asked.
“Once,” she admitted, pulling me deeper into the mayhem. “In college. I drank four shots of Bacardi and barfed on some guy’s shoes. I still have no idea how I got home.”
The image made my stomach twist. I’d seen that girl—wide-eyed, trying out wild —at virtually every party I’d been to in college and grad school. I hated to think of that girl ever being Hanna. In my eyes she was always smarter than that, more self-aware.
She was still talking, and I leaned in to catch the rest of what she said. “. . . wild nights were mostly spent playing Magic in our dorm lounge and sipping ouzo. Well, everyone else would be drinking ouzo. I can barely smell it without wanting to puke.” She looked back at me over her shoulder, clarifying, “My roommate was Greek.”
Hanna introduced me to a group of people, mostly guys. There was a Dylan, a Hau, an Aaron, and what I think wasan Anil. One of them handed Hanna a cocktail made with a trendy plum sake and fizzy soda water.
I knew Hanna wasn’t much of a drinker, and my protective instincts kicked in. “Would you rather have something nonalcoholic?” I asked her, loud enough for the others to hear me. What dicks, just assuming she wanted booze.
They all waited for her to answer, but she sipped the drink and made a quiet cooing noise. “This is good . Holy crap!” Apparently she liked it. “Just make sure I only have the one,” she whispered to me, sliding closer into my side. “Otherwise I can’t be held responsible for my actions.”
Well, fuck. With that one line she managed to derail my plans to be the good, big-brother figure for the evening.
Hanna drank her cocktail faster than I expected and her cheeks grew rosy, her smile lingered. She met my eyes and I could see her happiness there, lighting her up. Christ, she’s pretty, I thought, wishing she and I were alone at my place watching a movie, and making a mental note to make that happen soon. I looked around the room and realized how many more people had joined the party. The kitchen was growing crowded. Another graduate student joined our little circle partway into a conversation about the craziest professors in the department and introduced herself to me, stepping between me and Dylan on my right. To my left, I could feel Hanna watching my reaction. I felt hyperconscious around her, seeing myself through her eyes. She was right when she said I noticed women, but while this other womanwas pretty, she did nothing for me, especially not with Hanna so nearby. Did Hanna really think I made a habit of having sex with someone every single time I went anywhere?
I met her eyes and gave her a scolding look.
Hanna giggled, mouthing, “I know you.”
“You really don’t,” I murmured. And fuck it, I let it all out: “There’s still so much you could learn.”
She stared up at me
She let out a small, breathy laugh, managing to sound both girlish and seductive. “You have yourself a deal.”
----
It was exactly what I’d expected: a serial renter to poverty-level graduate students, and an entirely familiar scene.
I was hit with a small wave of nostalgia as we stepped inside the cramped apartment.
The two couches were droopy futons, with stained, drab covers. The television was propped on a board balanced between two milk crates. The coffee table looked like it had seen better days, before having some very baddays, and then had been given to these guys to trash further. In the kitchen, a horde of bearded, hipster grad students huddled around a keg of Yuengling and there were assorted half-full bottles of cheap booze and mixers on the counter.
But from the look on Hanna’s face you’d think we just stepped into heaven. Beside me, she bounced a little and then reached for my hand, squeezing it. “I’m so glad you came with me!”
“Seriously, have you actually ever been to a party before?” I asked.
“Once,” she admitted, pulling me deeper into the mayhem. “In college. I drank four shots of Bacardi and barfed on some guy’s shoes. I still have no idea how I got home.”
The image made my stomach twist. I’d seen that girl—wide-eyed, trying out wild —at virtually every party I’d been to in college and grad school. I hated to think of that girl ever being Hanna. In my eyes she was always smarter than that, more self-aware.
She was still talking, and I leaned in to catch the rest of what she said. “. . . wild nights were mostly spent playing Magic in our dorm lounge and sipping ouzo. Well, everyone else would be drinking ouzo. I can barely smell it without wanting to puke.” She looked back at me over her shoulder, clarifying, “My roommate was Greek.”
Hanna introduced me to a group of people, mostly guys. There was a Dylan, a Hau, an Aaron, and what I think wasan Anil. One of them handed Hanna a cocktail made with a trendy plum sake and fizzy soda water.
I knew Hanna wasn’t much of a drinker, and my protective instincts kicked in. “Would you rather have something nonalcoholic?” I asked her, loud enough for the others to hear me. What dicks, just assuming she wanted booze.
They all waited for her to answer, but she sipped the drink and made a quiet cooing noise. “This is good . Holy crap!” Apparently she liked it. “Just make sure I only have the one,” she whispered to me, sliding closer into my side. “Otherwise I can’t be held responsible for my actions.”
Well, fuck. With that one line she managed to derail my plans to be the good, big-brother figure for the evening.
Hanna drank her cocktail faster than I expected and her cheeks grew rosy, her smile lingered. She met my eyes and I could see her happiness there, lighting her up. Christ, she’s pretty, I thought, wishing she and I were alone at my place watching a movie, and making a mental note to make that happen soon. I looked around the room and realized how many more people had joined the party. The kitchen was growing crowded. Another graduate student joined our little circle partway into a conversation about the craziest professors in the department and introduced herself to me, stepping between me and Dylan on my right. To my left, I could feel Hanna watching my reaction. I felt hyperconscious around her, seeing myself through her eyes. She was right when she said I noticed women, but while this other womanwas pretty, she did nothing for me, especially not with Hanna so nearby. Did Hanna really think I made a habit of having sex with someone every single time I went anywhere?
I met her eyes and gave her a scolding look.
Hanna giggled, mouthing, “I know you.”
“You really don’t,” I murmured. And fuck it, I let it all out: “There’s still so much you could learn.”
She stared up at me
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