Big Gray: A Romantic Comedy (In The Dark Series Book 1) Page 2

  “Whatever. I think you finally lost it, Gray. All of you … I’m out. I’m going to Gama House to console your fan club since you won’t.” He actually drops his beer can in the trash and heads for the door.

  When Brian is gone, we all look at each other thoughtfully.

  “So, how do we go about this?” Steven brings the conversation back to the important matter we were discussing.

  “Grayson and I can make a website for people to sign up, and you two spread the word about the parties. We can’t have unlimited attendance or it will turn into one of the frat parties. We can have … let’s say ten people at a time,” Eddie offers.

  Perfect. We don’t waste any time and grab our computers. At the end of the night, we nail all the details of our crazy operation. We call it “Parties Anonymous.”

  2

  Melanie

  I am going to cry. My roommate and best friend, Hanna, is back from her evening class and finds me curled up on my bed, alone and miserable. Her look of pity is the last thing I need right now.

  “What happen, Mel? The date didn’t go well?” She sits on my bed and pouts her lips.

  “Hanna, I don’t know why I even try. I am totally sending the wrong signals to guys,” I sob. “Damien called me a tease and left angry and frustrated. It was our third date, and apparently there is some rule about putting out—”

  “Bullshit!” Hanna cuts me off. “Those rules are totally made by douchebags who don’t want to waste their time getting to know a girl. I wish they were at least upfront about it. I would totally have sex with a guy, no strings attached, if he just had the decency to ask directly. Who needs the games?”

  This is my friend. Hanna is not shy or innocent. She is open about sex and treats the whole hooking up in college experience the way guys do, without reservation or pretenses. I wish I could be more like her, but I’m not sure I can just do casual relationships.

  Even my mother thinks I should have fun in college and that “it’s okay to experiment.” Her words. She sent me to California with her usual words of wisdom, telling me whatever I do is fine as long as I use protection, have a trustworthy friend with me at parties, and a designated driver to take me home if I’m drunk.

  I am not a prude, and I like to go out and have fun, but the whole idea of getting drunk and naked with a random guy grosses me out. I would totally go crazy obsessing about STDs and questioning my choice of a partner, whose name I didn’t remember because I was drunk as a skunk. If the condom breaks, how do you find your “baby daddy” since all you remember is that he seemed cute with beer goggles on? I don’t want kids. Period. Oh, I do want those …

  Hanna doesn’t seem to care about any of this. We’ve been friends since high school. We were both drama kids, and we both dated the two most popular guys in high school. My boyfriend, Tom, was on the soccer team. Gavin, Hanna’s on-again off-again flame, was captain of the football team. Hanna and I have completely opposite personalities, and yet we get along perfectly. I am my friend’s voice of reason and the responsible friend she brings to parties. She challenges me to loosen up and try new things.

  My new college wardrobe is all thanks to my friend’s insistence on how I need to dress to impress and her assurance that guys will fall at my feet if I follow her fashion advice. The guy from tonight expected me to get down on my knees since I was dressed like I was looking for it, in his opinion. GAAA! I am sticking to jeans and T-shirts from now on.

  “Forget about this idiot Damien. I know you, Mel. You want friendship and love—all that romantic crap. Even though I don’t believe in lasting relationships at our age, I love you and respect your choices. I am sure there is a guy somewhere on this campus who is as sentimental as you. You need to go to the library or something …”

  I smile at Hanna’s suggestion because I know she’s not making fun of me for wanting a relationship.

  “I’ve heard a lot of hooking up happens behind the book stack,” I smile a little “…and I need the practice apparently. Damien said I am a horrible kisser. The other guy I went out with last month, Jeremy, didn’t say anything, but he didn’t seem into kissing me either. Do you think after Tom—” I start saying, but I don’t finish the sentence because Hanna slaps me on the chest like a disobedient child.

  “Don’t you dare say it! Your experience with Tomas is what messed with your head. I am sure you can kiss. Actually, I can judge your kissing skills …”

  She jumps on top of me and tackles me on my bed, puckering her lips, pretending she wants to make out. I giggle and try to push her off.

  “I know a lesbian hookup is on your list of things to try in college, but if I kiss you, I might fall head over heels in love with you, and what are you going to do with an obsessed roommate? Haven’t you seen horror movies?”

  She pulls back and sits on the foot of my bed, feigning horror.

  “You would totally fall for me. Everyone does,” she says, dead serious. “You know what? You need practice and you don’t need the pressure of dating. You should register on Parties Anonymous.”

  “Register on what?” I ask, perplexed. Hanna is not making sense. Maybe I pushed her off too hard and she hit her head or something.

  “Parties Anonymous is like a normal dorm party, but is all in the dark. You have no idea who you’re talking to. I’ve heard it’s awesome. One girl in my English class said she met her current boyfriend there. She admitted she would have never talked to him in a normal situation because he is not her usual type. She hates guys with tattoos because they remind her of some ex who was no good. Her new boyfriend is totally cute but has a lot of ink. She had no idea, until they met a few weeks after they clicked at the party.”

  I am shocked that somehow Hanna is making sense, and this idea about meeting guys in the dark starts to sound intriguing.

  “How do I know I am not going to fall for another Tom?” I say tentatively. Hanna frowns knowing my deepest fear.

  “You can ask, babe. People won’t lie about their sexual orientation when their identities are hidden, trust me. This is like a real support group thing. Kelley said everyone there was completely honest and real. You say things to strangers that you won’t admit to your best friends. Why do you think online people are more open than in real life? This is like social media, with the added bonus you can actually make out with someone you like. Exactly what you need.”

  “What did you say the site was called?” I ask Hanna. She grins and leaps off the bed to grab her laptop from her desk.

  This is me going wild.

  3

  Grayson

  When we started the site a month ago, I wasn’t expecting so many people to register. But after the first week, word of mouth spread, and we had a waiting list for open spots. Unfortunately for me, I couldn’t take full advantage of the social experiment. I had a lot of away games, and now that I am back to campus, it’s time for finals.

  This means the crowd Eddie said came to the parties the last few weeks is winding down. I need to study too, but since I started the site for a reason, I am going tonight after the home game. I’ll be beat, but I really don’t care. There will be parties all around campus if we win, but I hope some people choose to take a break from their textbooks or from the usual sex and carousing and come to our party instead.

  I went to the Anonymous Party the first two weeks after we opened shop, and I met some awesome people. We laughed, we discussed what brought everyone there, and people shared their struggles: dealing with the pressure of college, parents and expectations. It was honest and real. I knew Mark and Steven were right about the parties, and this experiment had worked. In the dark, no one was judgmental or prejudiced. I kept thinking about the conversations we had for weeks after. There were some funny and interesting girls who came to that meeting, but I didn’t get the chance to get to know them better.

  I hope tonight I get lucky and meet someone cool.

  I lead my team to another victory, and I am still running on pure adren
aline. I walk into the dark room with a triumphant cry on my lips and visions of being rewarded with a well-deserved prize of female companionship by the Gods of Football. My enthusiasm deflates when I am greeted by the voices of two guys, who are the only current participants of this secret meeting of lost souls. Yup, only four people registered tonight, but I’d hoped at least one would be a girl.

  The two guys halt their conversation when I grumble and stumble to the chair.

  “I feel your pain, man,” one says in my direction “Finals are one heinous bitch. If I survive the month on a total of ten hours of sleep, I might set some Guinness Book Record.”

  The other guy adds a few more expletives about the unfairness of life and the misery the endeavor of higher learning brings to the human population, but I am already tuning them out. Freshman. Total amateurs. I nailed that beast last year and learned that pulling all-nighters to cram for a test is not the way to go. I am the king of time management, and I have a steady study schedule between games and practice, so no lack of sleep for me.

  I’m actually ready to doze off on the chair, the white noise of the freshman struggle lulling me to sleep. I get startled by someone shaking my arm.

  “Man, you better go to your room and hit the sack. You are snoring. We took an hour break from our Econ textbook, but time to get back to the torture, since this party sucks.”

  I straighten up only to hear the two guys stumbling out of the door. They’re right. This suck. What happened to the fun and exciting crowd who came to the anonymous meetings? Maybe they all fell victim to the academic demon too. I was hoping Strawberries would be here.

  Last time, I met this one girl. We had all came up with fake names. She seemed shy, and I never got hers. I called her Strawberries in my head. She smelled like a ripe fruit and reminded me of summer. In the dark, being deprived of your visual perception, every other sense was heightened. I was drawn to the divine aroma emanating from that girl.

  Now that I am alone, I lean back in my chair and close my eyes, inhaling deep and imagining the girl is sitting next to me. My muscles hurt and my body is all tight, but I don’t feel like dragging it to my room. I might have drifted off again when I hear the door open. The light coming from the hallway disappears quickly when the person closes the door. I hear a girl’s voice.

  “Hello, anyone here?” she calls into the darkness.

  “This way.” I perk up immediately, hoping it’s her.

  I hear a rumble as she bumps into something while heading in the direction of my voice.

  “Shit! It’s so dark in here, like in the Devil’s ass,” she exhales the words.

  A body drops down heavily next to me on the couch, and I hear some muffled noise, like she buried her head in the couch pillow and is groaning. On autopilot, I lean into her to get a sniff.

  The putrid chemical scent hits me so hard, my brain cringes and hits pause.

  “What is that smell?” I mean to say, but all that comes out of my constricted throat is this gargling, gagging sound.

  I’m choking. This poor thing probably had some unfortunate lab accident or fell into a pool of toxic waste before she dragged herself here to die on my couch. I pull back as my self-preservation instinct kicks in and start coughing.

  “Oh, sorry about the smell,” she notes casually. “I stopped noticing it. It takes a few minutes to numb the scent receptors in your brain.” She sounds nonchalant but seems aware of the odor.

  “Hmm …” I clear my throat. “What’s that smell?”

  “Don’t ask. It’s DEET, an insect repellant. I am afraid it only works on humans, though. It’s not only sticky but smells like crushed cockroaches and skunk pee.”

  “Indeed,” I murmur. “Why exactly did you put that on?”

  She sighs and shifts on the couch, but then swears loudly and her body slumps back closer to me. I want to put distance between myself and the smell of death, but I don’t pull away.

  “It’s a long story …” she answers my question elusively.

  “Can’t wait to hear it,” I chuckle. This girl is a mess, but she is also entertaining.

  “So, see, I was walking to my dorm after my last class, when I got viciously attacked by a gang of mosquitos. The pests bit me right in the ass. Literally. Through my jeans and everything. I’m allergic to those buggers’ stings. When I made it to my room, my butt cheeks were swelling so badly, I couldn’t even manage to peel off my pants. My roommate suggested cutting them off with scissors, but since they’re my favorite pants, I had to fight her to defend them. I was almost going into anaphylactic shock. Then I heard her scream when I finally stripped and she saw the damage on my ass. My butt looked like dough that had risen and bubbled over. I took so much Benadryl, I got droopy

  “So anyhow, I woke up and remembered I signed up for this meeting. I am one of those people who takes commitments really seriously, swollen ass or not, so I decided to come. While I was asleep my friend went to the pharmacy and bought me the strongest insect repellent she found. Unwisely, I sprayed the thing on me before I took a sniff.

  “My traitorous friend started gagging, ran out of the room, and locked herself in the bathroom. So yeah, I couldn’t even take a shower to wash the dead animal smell off me. So here I am, prancing around campus like a limping Kim Kardashian, dragging my huge ass to this party. You are lucky you can’t see my behind, or you’ll be screaming in horror, not just choking …”

  By this point my eyes are watering, but I can’t tell if it’s from the chemicals or the laughter. I can imagine her and her gigantic ass trying to fit through the door. I shouldn’t be laughing at her misery, but she seems to take humor well.

  “No need to worry. I’m a guy. We are all about curves. It’s ‘All about that bass,’ right?” I try to comfort her.

  “Right! I’ll remember to put that song on my playlist when I bust my ass in the gym next time,” she murmurs. Then she shifts again and moans in discomfort “I give up! I’ll just lie on my stomach and stop attempting to sit upright. Now I know what a pain in the ass means. Literally.”

  “You are funny,” I say to her and I mean it. I haven’t laughed this hard in ages.

  “It’s probably the Benadryl talking. People usually don’t get my sense of humor…” After a beat she changes the subject from her unfortunate endeavor to the current situation we find ourselves in. “So, it’s just two of us here. Isn’t this supposed to be a party or something?”

  “There were few other guys earlier, but they left to study for finals. This time around campus no one is much for socializing. Except for the really committed people, like us two.”

  She laughs and it’s that really bubbly and wholesome laughter, which makes you feel better just by hearing the sound.

  “I’ll say cheers for commitment, and let’s drink to those of us who ditched studying, but I shouldn’t add alcohol to the mix or I might start barking.”

  “What’s your name?” I ask.

  “What? Like my real name or do you come up with some aliases? For anonymity’s sake and stuff.”

  “Fake names usually. That’s the point isn’t it? That we don’t know anything about each other?”

  “Right … Ugg! Can’t think … What’s your favorite color?” she asks. I know I should say blue, “team spirit” and all, but I answer honestly. “Red”

  She laughs again, like I said something funny.

  “Mine too. So, call me Red. What about you? What do I call you?”

  The last two times I was here, I introduced myself as Will—the name of my dog actually—but it doesn’t seem fitting this time with this girl.

  “Favorite number from one to ten?” I ask.

  “Ten. I always aim high,” Red declares.

  I choke again. Ten. Perfect. Isn’t that the speculation about my dick size? Not like I have measured Peanut, but …

  “Ok, I am Ten,” I smirk. “So, Red, what brings you here? Everyone has a story of why they want to meet people anonymously.”

/>   She’s quiet, like my question somehow shifted her mood. When she speaks, she does sound more somber, all humor gone.

  “Honestly, I am a social person. I have a lot of friends, but I don’t know how to talk to guys, and I do all the wrong things around them. I guess I need some practice, so I don’t embarrass myself next time. But as you can see, I am a total disaster. It’s a wonder you’re still here, since I assaulted your senses by just walking through the door.”

  “Well, as you said, my olfactory glands shut down a while ago, and I can’t smell ass anymore. So, no worries.”

  “Very funny,” she chuckles. “What’s your deal? Are you too smart for most girls, throwing anatomy terms into random conversations and making them feel inferior, or is there more?”

  Well, it’s a first for a girl to say I’m smart, usually they go with hot, so I take the compliment to heart.

  “Hey, I just paid attention in anatomy class. I am a guy. Some terms stuck out. Like Nocturnal Penile Tumescence for instance. It’s surely cooler to wake up to NPT than just plain morning wood.”

  Red makes a sound between a chuckle and a groan.

  “I see what your problem with girls might be. You bring your dick into the conversation too early.” Red points out, amused.

  “Do I? Well, it’s usually the other way around,” I ponder out loud. “Let’s change the subject then. Back to your problem. Why is it that you can’t talk to guys? So far I am truly entertained by our conversation.”

  “It’s not talking to guys. It’s dating. I suck. I send all sorts of wrong signals …”

  “What do you mean?” I’m curious.

  “It’s kind of a long story …” Red says elusively, like she doesn’t want to elaborate further.

  “We have time and I am a good listener,” I urge her to continue. “By the sound of it, you might want to hear a guy’s perspective on things.”