Page 3

Story: Pushing Patrick

I grab her by her wrist before her fingers make contact with my groin, giving Con a make it stop look because I can’t. I cannot stand here naked and have this conversation.
“We’re actually the same person,” Con tells her, drawing her hand from my grasp so he can lift it to his mouth. “It’s all very complicated and science-y—alternate dimensions. String theory.”
Delta #1 scrunched up her nose. “What’s that?”
Good Christ. Someone shoot me.
Con kisses the tip of her glittery fingers and smiles. “Why don’t we all go back to your place so I can explain it to you? I put on a hell of an interactive puppet show.”
That’s my cue.
“You should totally do that,” I say, heading for my pile of clothes. Con laughs while I snatch my cargos and boxers off the ground.
“Please tell me you’re packing one of those,” Half-naked Delta #2 stage-whispers behind my back.
“Who do you think stars in my puppet show?” Con says, evoking another volley of giggling. “You sure you don’t want in on this?” he shouts at me as I mount the stairs.
So. Fucking. Sure.
“Yup—have fun,” I call over my shoulder, halfway up the stairs. I just want to get to my room and put some fucking pants on.
“Boogey Nights!” he shouts, because being loyal doesn’t make him any less of a dick.
The answering shout that erupts throughout the house seals my fate. “Boogey Nights!”
Shit. That one’s gonna stick.
Someone’s knocking. And crying.
I lift my head from the pillow and listen. The music is no longer at an ear-splitting volume. My asshole fraternity brothers have finally stopped shouting my newest nickname and I can hear someone puking in the bathroom across the hall. The party is finally trying to die.
Thank Christ.
“Hello?” The muffled word is followed by a flurry of soft knocking, like whoever it is doesn’t want to wake me up but needs to for some reason.
I pick up my cell and peer at the display. It’s 3AM. I’ve been asleep for approximately two hours. I have class in four. Kill me now.
I peel myself off my bed and stumble over Rob’s mess, toward the door. Yanking the door open, I’m too goddamned tired to remember that I barely got my boxers back on before I fell, face-first, into bed. Bleary-eyed, all I make out is a tousled fall of caramel-colored hair and the skimpiest bra and panty set I’ve ever seen, all of it wrapped around a body that suddenly makes it hard to breathe.
“Bathroom’s over there,” I say, nodding my chin across the hall. “Sounds like someone else is making a deposit, but I’m sure—”
“I don’t need to throw-up,” the girl sniffles, pushing her hair out of her face before brushing shaky fingers across tear-stained cheeks. She’s obviously drunk. Tequila, if my nose is any judge. “I need my clothes.”
Her clothes? I look over my shoulder like I expect them to be carried out of the rubble by woodland creatures or some shit. “Yeah, I don’t think—”
“I thought you had tattoos,” she says, raking her gaze over my bare chest and arms like I’m trying to pull a fast one.
“Nope.” I sigh, grappling with my patience. She’s not the first person to mistake me for Conner. She won’t be the last. “What I have is class in a few hours, so…”
“Cari, you’re being stupid.” It’s Rob, I’d know his douchey voice anywhere. Craning my neck past the doorframe, I can see him barreling down the hall. Yup. Still naked. “Just let me explain.”
“Explain?” The girl rolls her eyes and pushes past me. “Seriously? I turn my back for ten seconds and you’re in the laundry room getting your dick sucked by some rando.” She starts digging through Rob’s side of the room, tossing his shit everywhere. “Pretty sure I can figure it out on my own.” She comes up with a pair of jeans. “Hold these,” she says, tossing them to me. I catch them just as Rob appears in the doorway.
“Where do you think you’re going?” Rob says, standing in the doorway like he’s going to try and stop her from leaving. I stand up a bit straighter. The palms of my hands start to itch.
“Uhh—home,” the girl says, pulling a shirt from the debris. She lifts it to her nose and gives it a sniff before focusing on me. “Can I wear this?”
Somehow, she knows the shirt is mine. “Yeah,” I say, but I’m not really looking. I’m too busy watching Rob. If he touches her, he’s gonna get a trip to the hospital after all.