Page 93 of No One Else

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“EVAN, YOU’RE NOT PARTYING. You said you wanted to party,” Alex whines, standing over me.

I squint up at him from my spot on the couch at Sigma Chi house, raucous laughter and general merriment all around us. Despite midterms being next week, that doesn’t appear to stop these brothers from throwing one hell of a party - on a Wednesday night, no less.

“I said I wanted to get drunk,” I clarify, taking a long gulp of my beer, wincing a little as it goes down. Natty Ice. Or rather, Nasty Ice. God, that’s disgusting.

“We’re about to play beer pong. Partner up with me,” he insists. “I bet your aim is killer.”

I attempt to get up and immediately regret my decision, my head spinning from too much beer, too fast. I plop back down heavily. “No can do. I’m stuck here.”

“Later then,” he shrugs, abandoning me.

I’m not really sure why I accepted his invitation to go out tonight after work, other than that I was simultaneously feeling extremely sorry for myself and pissed off beyond belief. I don’t even like Alex all that much. I usually find myself annoyed with him - like right now for example.

But I needed a distraction. And this certainly fits the bill. Loud music, irritating fraternity bros and sorority girls, and cheap, gross beer. I’m already in hell, so I might as well surround myself with it too.

“Oh my God, you’re too funny,” a girlish voice cuts through the din, going straight to my brain. Something about it tickles my memory and I search for the source, lazily turning my head until I find it. A blonde, with cleavage spilling out of her low-cut dress. But I can’t place her. Does she go to the gym? In one of my classes?

She’s on the lap of some guy, but I can only see the back of his head. He turns away from her for a second and a calculating look crosses her face, just enough for the connection to snap into place. Olivia. I wonder then if that’s...

I stand gingerly, leaning heavily on the arm of the couch to steady myself and make my way to the left to catch the face of the guy. His eyes are glazed over with some kind of intoxicant, dark purple smudging the upper and lower eyelids, and a thin bandage across the bridge of his nose.

Carter.

That fucker.

My initial urge is to go over there and punch his face to a bloody pulp. Show him just what I think of the way he’s treated Natalie. My next thought is disgust with myself and how mad she’d be if I did that. My last thought, as I drop myself down in an empty chair, is that none of that matters now.

I lean forward, resting my head in my hands. She chose that piece of shit over me. The one that has his hands on Olivia’s waist right now, no regard for his girlfriend at home. She probably has no idea what he’s doing, how he’s cheating on her yet again.

How easy would it be for me to get a girl tonight? Someone who has their own place that we could go back to and fuck anytime we wanted. No crazy roommates or ex-boyfriends or any other kind of drama that makes things so impossible. Someone who I haven’t been hung up on for the past year and a half, wasted too much of my college time on. Maybe it would drown out this misery.

I’ve seen a few girls eyeing me, but I can’t muster any enthusiasm for the idea, taking the last swig of my beer instead. If I’m honest with myself, it would be a betrayal, no matter what she’s done. I can’t forget her. I’m too far gone, irrevocably in love, despite her actions.

I hold up my phone, opening the camera app and zoom in on Carter, snapping pictures of Olivia kissing his neck, his hands on her ass now. A part of me wants to send the pics to Natalie immediately.See what your douchebag boyfriend is up to? He can’t even stay faithful to you for half a week before he’s back at it again.The other part just wants to erase them, though, and leave the whole thing be, let her make a fool of herself. It’s divine justice, putting her trust in someone who so obviously doesn’t deserve it.

Do I deserve it any better, though? All those things she said outside her dorm were true. I did act possessive, jealous. I’d argue my case against controlling, but this was her ex-boyfriend for God’s sake. I was entitled to some rage over him kissing her.

I end up doing nothing with the pictures, bringing up my message thread with Luke instead.

Me:Can you pick me up? I’m drunk off my ass at Sigma Chi house, stuck here with Alex.

A few minutes later I get his reply.

Luke:Give me fifteen minutes.

I lean back in the chair, the ceiling slightly spinning as I tilt my head. Thank God for people you can depend on.

Before I know it, he’s standing there in front of me, a disapproving frown on his face. I’ve sobered up some in the time since I texted him, and trust me, no one can be more disgusted with myself than I am right now.

I should be using this free time now that I don’t have a girlfriend to catch up on studying for midterms, picking up extra shifts at the gym, even possibly finding a second job to help pay down Dad’s bills faster. Not wallowing in self-pity and getting drunk in fraternity houses, surrounded by strangers.

“Let’s get you up,” Luke says, bending down to lift me out of the chair. “Christ, you’re heavy,” he mutters, maneuvering me into an upright position and settling his shoulder under my arm.

He guides me out to his truck, parked illegally in the middle of the road because of the number of cars blocking all available street parking. He makes sure I’m buckled in and walks around the front to get in, shifting into drive and turns on the next street to take us off campus.

“Listen,” he starts gently, “you can’t just keep getting drunk every night-”

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