text: “Oh my god, Kat! Come look at these pictures of my new g-little wasted!” Lindsey squealed. G-little, or grand little, is apparently a term you use in a co-ed honors’ fraternity. Lindsey took on a “little” in her fraternity last year, now it was her little’s turn. These roles were meant to emulate a big brother or big sister, but basically it just meant you bought alcohol for someone underage in the fraternity and forced them to drink too much. You see him for the first time on Lindsey’s iphone screen. He looked like a hot, teen pop star version of Cupid. Curly blonde hair, blue eyes, pink cheeks, drunk as fuck facial expression. You think he’s cute even though he’s hunched over a toilet. He’s filling out a Haines t-shirt in all the best ways. “What the fuck did you make him drink??” You say. “Oh we make them all chug vodka! It’s hilarious. They always throw up,” Lindsey answers. “How charming.” You can’t tell Lindsey you think he’s cute. She’ll try to set you up with him and it’ll be a mess. You’re a 21 year old virgin with a mean streak when it comes to men. Other than making out with random guys at house parties and then telling them to fuck off, you really have no experience with boys. Especially not dating boys. Dating is what Lindsey does. Where she spends all her time worrying about how many minutes pass between their texts. Or how much makeup is okay to wear because he likes her with no makeup even though he’s technically never seen her with no makeup on. Dating is draining. When you finally meet toilet boy for the first time it’s at your house. Drunk. Mitchell (Paul’s last name and nickname) comes in your front door after Lindsey lets him in. He looks out of breath from the cold and long walk. You run your eyes up and down him from the kitchen where he hasn’t seen you yet. “Tequila shotssss,” you call out to the house. “Jesus, you trying to get me wasted?” Paul answers walking into the kitchen. “Maybe...” You smirk. Paul blushes. You like who you think you’ll be to him. The hot, cool, older girl. At least until he really gets to know you. You really still feel like the least hot one in the friend group. The weird one. The clumsy, socially anxious, scared of everything one. The alcohol usually fixes that though. You clink glasses on the counter, then together, then take the shot. He winces. He’s wearing a white button down, cobalt blue jeans, white keds. Way more stylish than most college boys. Especially sophomores. You start calculating. He must be 18? 19? “G-Lits!!!!! Come here and take pictures of your Nana and her friends!” Lindsey cries out from across the living room into the kitchen. “Yes, Nana,” Paul says obediently. You wonder if he’s into Lindsey like most guys are. Lindsey has a way of completely dominating men that is somehow inviting and charming. Probably because she is hot. She always was the hot one as long as you were friends with her. She loved attention. Especially from men. And they loved giving it to her. It left you feeling like Velma to her Daphne. You still couldn’t help but love her even though you were a little jealous. You pose with your roommates in front of your front door while Paul takes pictures. “Okay let’s go!” Lindsey announces. You start the 20 minute walk across campus to one of the houses for Paul and Lindsey’s fraternity. It’s a classic frat house on campus-- large, old, Victorian, 4-5 bedrooms with blacklights everywhere and a huge basement. You get there and the living room is already littered with forgotten cups. The keg is in the basement along with a beer pong table and dozens of wasted college kids dancing to way too loud music. Like a G6 by Dev plays and everyone makes jokes about getting “slizzard”. You spend the first 15 minutes hugging people and taking shots with some friends you met through Lindsey. You met most people through her. “Hey bitch!!” Jessica calls to you. Jessica is the girlfriend of John, another fraternity member. She also used to live on Lindsey’s floor freshman year. She would always get drunk and brag about how big John’s dick was. Which was confusing seeing as John was shorter and more feminine than her. “Heyyyy,” you say, “How are you?” “I’m fucking great. I’m smashed,” Jessica answers. “Yeah I can tell!” you laugh, “Where’s John?” “Oh I think he’s over in the living room talking to Lindsey’s new g-little. He’s fucking hot. Have you met him? Pete?” “Paul. Yeah, we all came here together.” “Damn, I wish I could fuck him. He looks so young and innocent. Can you please do it for me and tell me all about it?” “Sex? What’s that???” you joke. “Oh my god, I always forget you’re a virgin. You don’t look like one in that, that’s for sure.” It’s true. You are honestly dressed pretty slutty. Tight, short black dress, push up bra, tons of makeup, long dark hair curled. The truth was the idea of sex seemed pretty intimidating and you really weren’t that interested in it. You got enough satisfaction from teasing boys at parties. Flirt, dance, make out, leave. Make them want you, but never follow through that way you’re never vulnerable. Besides, you had never met anyone that felt worth it. Especially not drunk guys in frats. “Yup, I’m trying to trick everyone. Glad it’s working,” you say. “Absolutely. Anyway, you should at least, like, make out with him or something. You would ruin his fucking life,” Jessica laughed. You look back over into the living room and meet eyes with Paul for a second. He blushes, looking back at John. He does look good. You can’t deny that. “Come on let’s go over there,” Jessica grabs your arm and drags you into the living room, just missing hitting the coffee table as she stumbles her way over to John and Paul. “Omg baaaaaabe,” Jessica says in a baby voice towards John who looks scared. “Uh hey... did you guys take some shots?” John asks. “Yup, Kat’s such a bad influence. Do you know that, Paul?” Jessica says, turning to him. “Oh yeah? I better watch out then,” Paul smirks looking at you dead in the eyes. “Please, we’re all grown ups. We make our own decisions. I only encourage what I think would be fun,” you shrug. “Baaaaabe, come upstairs with me. I want to... make sure my coat is still there,” Jessica giggles. “Uh, okay,” John replies. Jessica locks her fingers between John’s and drags him towards the stairs. John follows like the obedient puppy he is. You stay standing next to Paul in the corner of the room. “So you’re a bad influence, huh?” Paul asks leaning against the brick wall. “Noooo, me? I just like having a good time, that’s all,” you grin. “Alright, that’s fair. Look, everyone here seems to be on a mission to get me blacked out,” Paul says. “I mean you’re in college and you joined a frat. What did you expect? Though you did pick a frat for nerds so I can see how you might be a bit confused...” you shrug. “I knew there would be drinking and stuff. But they go hard here.” “Yes. Welcome! I mean I’m just here with Lindsey, but I’m basically an honorary member at this point. And yes, they do go hard. In fact I saw you went a little too hard last weekend. Lindsey might’ve shown me pictures.” Paul’s face flushes, “Oh my god, that’s so embarrassing. They literally kept singing this one song about chugging over and over and gave us each a bottle of vodka. It did not end well for me.” The couch opens up across the room. You squeal, “Yessss, couch! Hurry! I hate doing things.” “Like standing?” Paul says. You move over to the couch and sit down. Paul joins you, knee pressed against yours. You look over at him. Eyes super blue. Face flushed from alcohol. “You’re cute,” you blurt out. “What?” Paul’s face flushes even more, “I mean... thanks. You’re...” “I know,” you say with drunken confidence, “but I’m not gonna kiss you. That’s a bad idea.” “Why?” “Because you’re gonna be at my house all the time with Lindsey. And you’re too young.” “Too young?” “Yes, it’s just a bad idea. But we can be friends,” you say. Paul presses his knee harder into yours. “Oh okay...” “So what’s your major?” you ask. Better to talk about politics or religion or anything that can keep you from thinking about what those blue eyes would look like hovering over you in bed. “Chemical Engineering.” “Wow, so you want to be a chemical engineer, huh?” “My dream is to study wildlife honestly. But this degree just makes more sense. But I love nature and animals and the environment. That’s really where I want to be. Out in the world trying to fix everything that’s being damaged.” “That’s pretty amazing.” “What about you?” “Special education. I love teaching.” You loved working with kids. It was something that always just clicked for you. You understand them and they understand you. You love the wonder in their eyes and their endless questions. You love the moment when something clicks for them or when they write something they’re really proud of. You never want to have kids of your own so they’re your kids. You love them. They frustrate you. You think they’re capable of so much. “That’s amazing too, I love kids. They’re the best.” You talk for hours on the couch. Something you don’t do at parties. He’s from a small, wealthy town in Massachusetts, but lived in a more modest home than most of his friends. He has a sister and some older half brothers from his dad’s previous marriage. Dad is English and mom is Swedish. He tells you he speaks French and Swedish. “That should be your opener with girls-- multilingual,” you say. “Why?” A little smile tugs at the corner of his lips. He’s fishing for compliments. “Girls love a guy who’s good with his mouth.” His body leans ever so slightly closer to you. “Maybe if I had you would’ve kissed me.” You smirk. There’s so many things you could say, so many you’d like to, but it’s safer to keep those pretty lips of yours together. A few seconds pass along with the moment and he moves back. “It’s getting pretty late. I need to get home.” “I’ll walk you,” he says a little too eagerly. “You don’t have to do that.” “I want to.” “I’m still not going to kiss you.” There he is, leaning in, invading your space with the way his muscles tense against the sleeves of his shirt. “What makes you think I even want that? It’s dark. You shouldn’t be walking alone at night.” You get outside. Campus is dark, but you can still see all of the trees and huge buildings. The hairs on your arms stand up in the cold wind. You keep talking. About movies, TV, other people in the frat, college life, social views, Marvel vs. DC, which Jessica is hottest (You say Alba, he says Biel), who’s better My Chemical Romance or Panic at the Disco. You keep looking over at him and staring at his lips. You finally get to your house. You say goodbye and hug him and your whole body lights up. You pull away slowly and look up at him. What the fuck is this? You push him away and say, “Okay, goodnight, friend.