Page 17 of Gay for Pray
We leave the tower behind and weave our way through campus toward Greek Row. Theodore clearly has no idea where we’re going and sticks close to my side. Nick is a silent, brooding shadow as we wander all those pretty, manicured paths. He and I look like walking code of conduct violations, but the night is thick and dark around us, and the only other people we encounter are also on their way to breech the university’s ethics rules. It’s a perfect night for debauchery, dark enough to conceal but warm enough that you can stay out as late as you need. Even with Nick brooding and Theodore walking stiff and silent as a soldier, a tingle of excitement gurgles within me as the academic buildings fall away and the student housing at the edge of campus sprouts up.
This isn’t like where Nick and I live. The towers are mostly for freshmen and sophomores. They contain floors and floors of tiny dorm rooms like me and Nick’s. Out here at the edges of the university grounds, a couple streets of actual houses create odd little mini neighborhoods within the university. Trees line a walking path flanked by red brick houses that evoke a puritan pioneer aesthetic, but what we plan to do here tonight is anything but puritan.
Music thumps out onto the path long before we ever reach the house. It’s clear which one we’re heading to thanks to the people and light splashing out onto the fenced in front lawn. A few people stand in clusters talking and drinking, while others play cornhole while they’ve still got the motor skills to pull it off.
The second we walk up the to the door, a guy there stops us, cocking an eyebrow.
“What’s he doing here?” he says, looking right at Theodore.
“Plus one,” I say.
I throw an arm around Theodore’s shoulders, and he flinches under my touch. I almost flinch as well, but that would be ridiculous. He obviously reacted that way because he’s so disgusted by me. Why should I be the one to jerk away?
I keep a hold on him as this pseudo frat bro bouncer evaluates all of us with a grimace.
“He’s a narc,” the bouncer says.
I think I recognize him from Professor Demsky’s class, but if he recognizes me or Theodore in return, it does us no favors. In fact, he seems to like us even less when recognition sparks in his eyes.
“He’s not a narc,” I say. “He’s cool. Relax. He’s here to party like everyone else, right, Theodore?”
I glance aside at him, and find Theodore watching me. Instead of pulling away in disgust because I touched him, he’s leaning slightly against me, looking at me like I’m the only safe thing in the entire universe. It reminds me of that look he gave me back at the dorm room, that quick flash of appraisal and perhaps even appreciation.
What am I thinking? There’s no appreciation here. This guy is only at this university so he can become a priest. He showed up for a party wearingkhakis, for God’s sake. He’s just nervous about being at a big party, and I’m the one familiar thing he has to cling to. Yet as he stares at me, I have to swallow to clear my throat.
I turn to the bouncer instead, hugging Theodore against my side like proximity can leech some of the narc-ness off him.
“I give you my personal promise,” I say. “He’s fine. Can we go in now? What are you, the fucking cops?”
The bouncer rolls his eyes. “No, but he might be.”
“Shut up and move,” Nick says.
He shoulders his way past all of us, and he’s so annoyed the bouncer makes no move to stop him. He even lets me andTheodore pass afterward, though not without a warning glare.
I shove my way into the party, but before I can take two steps, someone grabs my hand.Theodoregrabs my hand. At first, the shock freezes me in place, nearly trapping us in the foyer with the unfriendly bouncer. Then I smile, giving Theodore a squeeze of reassurance as I pull him inside.
Me and my choir boy enter our first real college party of the semester.
Chapter Ten
Theodore
WHAT AM I DOING here? I grab Jude’s hand on pure instinct, some kind of survival reflex, but the second he drags me inside, I lose any desire to let go.
We wade into a tempest. Bodies cram in so close we have to go single file through the foyer. We pop out into a living room where lights swirl and strobe. Several people dance in the middle of the room. Well, I assume it’s dancing. They mostly seem to be grinding against each other like sticks trying to light a fire. Jude’s friend Nick is already in the thick of it, arms raised as he dances.
Jude sets me loose at a wall at the side of the room. I’m strangely shaky and adrift without his touch, but I try to ignore that. Jude smiles at me, then starts leaning close, and my heart jumps into my throat. His lips near, shiny with something. I stand rigid. Is he actually trying to kiss me? No, why would he do that? He doesn’t even like me.
As my mind whirls through the startling possibilities, Jude leans past me, his body so close his chest is almost against mine. He holds my shoulder so he can rise on his tip toes and speak close to my ear, the words dusting against my skin and sending goosebumps down my neck.
“I’m going to dance,” he says above the thump of the music. “Let me know if you need anything, okay?”
He leans away, waiting for an answer, but my body andbrain are too busy churning over the nearness of his body, the tingle of his words tickling my neck, the light scent of him lingering around me like a cloud. A chain reaction of unfortunate responses echo through my body, bombs detonating one after the other and leaving me off-balance. My first instinct is to pray, but the bouncer barely let me in here, and if I dropped to my knees and started petitioning God to help me through this, that would definitely get me ejected.
And as I look at Jude in that crop top, his hand still clasped on my shoulder, I realize I don’t want to leave.
I nod, and he gives me a thumbs up, then flits away to join his friend. They instantly become the center of the dance floor, everyone else orbiting around them. And it’s clear why. When Jude starts moving, my eyes flick to his waist, to the sinuous sway of his hips. I didn’t think a man could move that way, but he makes it seem effortless, his whole body instantly syncing up with the music. It’s like he’s directing the beat of the songs blaring through the living room, choosing them to perfectly suit the motion of his body.
