Page 56 of Icebreaker
The wall of bodies blocking the door to the backyard was somehow less penetrable than the one on the sidewalk. I tried to skirt around, but each movement seemed to be blocked by another body. I misjudged the space and accidentally sloshed a guy’s beer onto his hand.
“Oh my god, I’m so sorry. I was trying to get by.”
“Bruh, what’s your problem?” The frat bro in front of me turned around and snarled when I tried to get past him. I recoiled at the fumes of alcohol on his breath that blasted my face. He gave me a rude up-down. “Who the fuck are you? Are we just letting anyone come in now?” he sneered.
“Uh, yeah, sorry. I was just looking for someone. Sorry again about the beer.”
“Okay, and…?” Even drunk, the delusions of main-character energy radiated from this guy.
“And they told me to meet them here, and I’m just looking for them.”
“Yeah, but these fucking freshman think they can just wonder into our parties and drink our shit.” He popped the solo cup out of my hand. Thankfully, it was empty, so no one else was splashed. “Oh, and now he’s not even drinking. Are you from the college, you fucking narc?”
“What? No! I just…I just…”
“You just what?” The drunk guy got within two inches of my face, and I tried hard not to gag from the stale smell “You just want to stir shit up.” Somehow, he moved in even closer, probably because he’d stumbled more than intended. “Why are you tryin’ to start shit with me?”
“Dude, I’m not! I’m just looking for my friend, and then I’m leaving.”
“Fine. Who’s your friend?” His friends made a halfhearted effort to pull him away from me, but he shook off all attempts to distract him from his chosen target.
“Brennen Tate. He’s meeting me here.”
“Bull-fucking-shit. There’s no goddamn way you’re hooking up with that fucker.” Once again, Drunk Frat Bro stumbled in his attempt to make his point. This time, I sidestepped out of the way, and he pitched forward.
“Why’d you make me fall?”
“I didn’t touch you!”
“Bro, come on, man, just leave him alone,” one of his buddies said to the drunk. The friend put his hand on his arm and tried to pull him away, but the drunk guy shook him off and stayed where he was in front of me.
“Get the fuck off me,” he hollered. A few more of his friends stepped forward, some of them telling him to calm down while others said to leave me alone. A few of them muttered about randos showing up at their party. As the center of what appeared to be a budding frat argument, I just wanted to leave. Being brave was all well and good, but I wanted out of this place.
“The fuck…” Daddy B growled behind me before I was yanked out of the center of the frat bros and hauled against something hard. And warm. Once I’d oriented myself, I realized that in addition to Daddy B, I was flanked by about half the hockey team. “What’s your goddamn problem?” The rest of the team present stayed silent. Daddy B maneuvered me so I was safely behind him.
“That rando said he was with you.”
“Yeah, he fucking is. He’s my boyfriend.”
“This asshole?” The drunk slurred so much that it was hard to even tell what he said. “I thought you had better taste.”
Out of nowhere, Matty stepped out of the line and laid the drunk guy out with one punch. He staggered back, tripped over his own feet, and landed on his butt. Unfortunately, his flailing arms also knocked someone’s drink out of their hand, which ended up spilling down the front of him. The shouts of everyonearound the room drowned out my gasp. I caught the fist bump between Matty and Daddy B from the corner of my eye. This was going to be their bonding moment? Figured.
“Keep his fucking name out of your fucking mouth,” Matty ground out. While I appreciated his defense, it hadn’t lessened my confusion. He was always friendly at the rink, and despite Daddy’s silliness, he’d never actually made a pass at me. I didn’t quite understand where his willingness to punch someone over me came from.
“You okay?” Daddy B murmured in my ear. His oversized body surrounded me and it felt like the jackass bro was miles away. “Did he put his hands on you?” I heard the barely controlled rage in his unnaturally quiet question.
“No, he didn’t put a hand on me, and no one else did either.” Daddy B looked wholly unconvinced. “And even if they had, which they didn’t, you aren’t blowing up your future over some drunk frat bros at a party. Got it?”
“Yes, sir,” Daddy B answered with a cheeky grin. “I don’t think you’ve ever talked to me like that. I could get used to it.” My narrowed eyes spoke volumes. He burst out laughing, then grabbed me for a bear hug, “Okay, maybe not, but it was kinda hot.”
“You’re ridiculous.” I’d tried to put mystern librarian over the age of ninetyinto my tone, but I ruined the whole thing with giggles. The frat guys and hockey team decided a fight wasn’t going to work for keeping campus security out of here, so they’d calmed themselves down. A few of the hockey boys ruffled my hair or gave me friendly arm punches. The potential meaning of their behavior overwhelmed me, so I shoved it out of my mind and returned to the here and now.
“Cooper, Tate, a few of us are going to The Diner. You wanna come?”
Daddy B looked at me, and I shrugged but left it up to him. “Yeah, sure. We walkin’ over?”
The guys nodded, and we headed out the door. My first college party, three years in, was kind of a bust but also great because it felt like a story to tell later.
