“Nell. This is Dmitri, one of my roommates.”
I offer my hand to Dmitri, who looks at me through a pair of thick-rimmed black glasses and spikes of jagged jet black hair that rests atop them. His complexion is pale and his black brows are thick, giving him a very intense demeanor.
He takes my hand. His own is shockingly smooth and cool to the touch. “Nice to finally meet you, Nell,” he murmurs, his soft voice nearly lost in the noise.
“Likewise.”
Brant leans into me. “You want a drink?”
“I’ll take a Dos Equis.”
He eyes me curiously, then presses himself to the counter to catch the attention of a bartender, all of whom are busy at the other end.
“What’s your specialization?” Dmitri asks me, kicking back his Blue Moon for a gulp or two.
“Drawing,” I answer. “I also paint and sculpt, but I’m best with charcoal.”
“Wow. You do it all, huh?”
Brant’s still calling for the bartender with his back to us, fruitlessly trying to catch one as they rush around helping other customers and seeming to outright ignore him.
“So you’re a creative writing major?” I ask.
Dmitri smiles appreciatively. “I am.”
“Working on anything new lately?”
“Yes!” His eyes light up, the excitement and joy of writing evident even in his beady, black, and otherwise untelling eyes. “I just finished this thing about an undeadish organ donor, and now I’m on a death-themed kick, so I thought I might write something about this guy who masturbates too much, and—”
“Whoa, whoa,” interjects a guy who rushes Dmitri from the side, throwing an arm over his back. He’s kind of plain-faced, but handsome and tanned, with a long gangly build and tightly parted sandy-brown hair. “No one wants to hear about that.”
“It’s a story I’m working on,” Dmitri retorts. “You didn’t even—”
“No one cares, sweetie. Hi. I’m Eric.” The new guy nods at me. “Are you—?”
“Nell,” Dmitri answers on my behalf, annoyed at him for cutting him off. “The girl from the art school who Brant’s been seeing.”
“Oh! Her!” Eric straightens up, flashing all his teeth with a bright smile. “I’m so rude! Please do tell her about your masturbation story, then. Anything to scare her as far away from Brant as possible.”
Dmitri groans. “Eric …”
“I’m teasing, I’m teasing. But really, Brant’s horrible. He almost let me give him head.”
“Eric!”
“He’s awful, Nell. He’s such a gay cocktease and that’s, like, the worst kind. I love him, but run while you can.”
Brant, oblivious to all of this, arrives with two Dos Equis, one of which he extends to me. “Here you go. Oh, hey there, Eric. I see you’ve all met …?”
Eric makes a twisted face at him, not unlike one he might make if he’d stubbed his toe, and I can’t help but burst into laughter. Dmitri joins in, snorting and hiding his face with his own bottle.
“The fuck’s going on?” Brant asks, lifting his eyebrows quizzically at us.
I recover enough to take the bottle from him and say, “Eric is just giving me the rundown, that’s it.”
“Ah, crap. What’s he saying? Eric, dude, what’d you say?”
“Only nice lies and evil truths.” Eric’s face has turned a few shades of pink as he swallows his laughter. “You know, I need to tell Dessie about Kirk the violinist. She wanted all the details, she’s gonna get them, including the ones she probably doesn’t need to know. Hey, we’ve got a table up by the stage. Come join us when you’re ready!”
And with that, Eric slips away into the quicksand of the crowd, gone in an instant.
Brant leans into Dmitri, who seems to be pouting irritably. “Dude, don’t let it get to you. I bet Kirk’s got a tiny wiener.”
“It’s not getting to me. I don’t care,” Dmitri spits back, lifting the bottle to his lips and glaring.
“Just tell Eric you want him. Tell him and get it over with, dude, he’s basically waiting for you.”
“No he’s not, and I don’t want him. I want Riley.”
“Oh yeah! Where is she? I thought you were bringing her.”
Dmitri shakes his head. “Went back home for the weekend. Family time and some cousin’s birthday and blah, blah, blah …”
“Oh, yeah. She’s a daddy’s girl, I remember you saying.”
Dmitri takes another swig of his beer, then huffs impatiently and takes off in the same direction as Eric, pushing his way through the noisy crowd.