The Way We Talk

I should never be trusted to pick out an outfit in times like this.

I'm usually fine. Between my obscenely large wardrobe and my knack for pairing articles together, I won best dressed in senior superlatives. Okay, so I tied, but I'm still in the yearbook picture, aren't I?

Anyway, it's only when it really matters that I lose my ability to pull myself together. And that's why I've enlisted a little help.

"How many white tanktops do you own, Saunders?" Jenna Danner asks as she digs through my shirt drawer. We've decided on some sort of shirt-skinny jean combination; casual-sexy without the implication that I'm trying all that hard.

I frown, debating between pairs of skinny jeans. "They're for layering," I respond, not really answering the question. I hold up two pairs and ask, "Black or dark gray?"

Jenna turns her attention towards me and studies both pairs. "Which one makes your butt look bigger?"

I drop the black pair at that. I'm pretty sure I'm one of the only girls I know that purposely chooses the jeans that make her butt look like the size of the moon, but hey- if you got it, flaunt it.

"And that leaves shirt," I note, slipping the tight jeans on with slight difficulty. The problem with putting these jeans in the dryer is that they're just the slightest bit too tight. They're stretched out pre-washing, so you have to pop them in the dryer, but getting them on is a bitch.

Jenna goes back to the drawer, looking through them. Now that we've picked a pair of jeans, we've narrowed the parameters of what I can wear, which is kind of a good thing. She pulls out an aqua rutched top, and extends it towards me. I examine it. I bought it over the summer but hadn't gotten around to wearing it yet.

I put it on, going over to the other side of the room to check in my full-length mirror. "Too much cleavage? I don't want to look like the desperate freshman at the upperclassmen party."

Jenna snorts. "That's why you're in jeans, sweetie. If you go light on makeup and jewelry, you should be fine."

I shrug, then head over to my closet. "You're probably right," I admit, opening up my jewelry box. I pull out my key necklace and fasten it around my neck, then decide that I don't need any more jewelry.

I head back to my mirror and study my reflection again. "What should I do with my hair?" I wonder out loud, deciding that today's eyeliner would suffice. "Up or down?"

Jenna tucks a large lock of hair behind my ear. "Down," she decides executively, and I nod, "Your ear still looks swollen," she adds as I subconsciously twirl the bar of my just-over-a-week-old industrial piercing. I know, I know; you aren't supposed to touch it but it's something I do compulsively.

I toss my hair to its original style - messy-wavy - and face Jenna, hands on my hips. "Do I pass?"

She gives me a thumbs up gesture, then pulls out her Blackberry. "You look good, but I have to meet my sister to go to Ultrabar."

I hug her quickly goodbye, then pull a face in the mirror. This is as good as it's going to get.

--

Truth be told, I've never been inside the residence hall part of Ivory Tower before. It's listed in the top three places to live on campus, and houses seniors, juniors, and really, really lucky sophomores. Christian and his roommate/lead singer/hometown best friend Maika live in a double on the fifth floor.

I inhale and rap on the door, knowing that if that fails, I'll try to text Christian.

The door is answered by a short Hispanic boy with a Natural Light in his hand. "Hey, are you Erica?" I nod shyly, feeling as if I should recognize this boy since he knows who I am. "Hey, I'm Jay Enriquez, one of Christian's best friends. Come in and get a beer."

I grin at Jay, liking him immediately. Christian mentioned that the entire band, minus the drummer, who was studying abroad this semester, would be here. Jay the bassist throws an arm over my shoulders, despite being barely taller than me if at all, and leads me to the kitchen.

"Look who I found," he announces cheerfully, opening up the fridge and thrusting a Natty in my direction, which I take with a smile.

Christian's attention snaps to me, and he hugs me enthusiastically with the arm not holding his beer. "Hey, you made it."

I shrug with a sheepish smile on my face. I'm not shy per say, but it's not always comfortable to be the center of attention in a group of strangers. "I try to show up when I say I will."

He shrugs, arm still around my shoulders. "Good point," he admits, then faces the circle of people huddled in the kitchen, "Guys, this is my friend Erica Saunders, and this is Maika, you know Jay, Mike, Darren, Deanna, Amber, and Kevin."

I grin and wave at the group, all of which greet me with a smile. Apparently, they don't see the term freshman as a derogatory term here.

The one bedroom door opens, and Christian doesn't have to introduce her for me to know that she's Maria. Maria Sentauri is model-tall, an estimated five foot eight in her bare feet, with sleek brown hair tied back into a high ponytail. A look of disgust passes her otherwise perfect face, and her eyes scan me none too subtly, as if I were some kind of martian.

Oh yeah, her boyfriend's arm is still around me.

"Christian, where did I throw my bra last night?" She asks, her eyes still staring daggers at me. I'm not the greatest at reading between the lines of people's words, but that is loud and clear - fuck off, freshman.

Christian's arm drifts off my shoulder - not in an aw-shit-I-shouldn't-have-done-that sort of way, but to run through his hair in thought. "If it's not under the bed, I might have thrown it into my hamper with my clothes."

She shrugs, then paints a sweet smile on her face. "So, you're Erica, right? I'm Maria," she introduces herself, adjusting her halter top. Come on, that's the least subtle way in the book to adjust your boobs in public.

I grin back at her with the same level of authenticity as she heads to Christian's other side and kisses him. Let the games begin.

--

At three-thirty, a barely less drunk than me Jay Enriquez offers to walk me back to my dorm. We hung out most of the night, as Christian was otherwise occupied, and I'd learned that he was twenty-three, a senior at American, had a girlfriend back in Florida, and was an all-over fun guy to be around. I've exchanged numbers with everyone at the party (yes, even Miss Sentauri), which I assure is a token of approval, but Jay more than any of them went out of his way to make me feel welcome.

"So, you had a good time?" He asks as we head down 23rd street towards F, hands clasped. Drunken hand-holding is a support thing for me; I'm not hitting on you in this case, I'm keeping myself upright.

I nod. "Yeah, I'm super glad that I came. Everyone seems really nice."

Jay sniggers. "You mean except for Maria?" I grin at this. Guess I'm not the only person who dislikes her. "I've never seen that girl look that jealous ever. She's really not that bad, I swear. She gets jealous sometimes, it's not personal."

I chuckle at that. "You don't look at someone like that if it's not personal, Jay. But, like, she'll back off when she figures out that I'm not some random as fuck freshman trying to scam on her man, right?"

"Yeah, totally," he responds to my relief, "You just ruffled her feathers a little." He laughs, as if remembering something, "Though I must say, I had to bite my lip to stop myself from laughing at that 'where did I throw my bra' line."

"I know, right?" I respond, unsure if my current love for this boy is mostly alcohol. Probably. "I definitely needed it spelled out that they're fucking. I mean, he said his girlfriend was here but he hadn't introduced her yet - who else could she be?"

"I fucking love you, Saunders," he says passionately for the fifteenth time tonight, "We're totally going to be best friends. Fuck Christian. I mean, Maria can fuck Christian."

I snigger as I half-trip over my own two feet. God, we're drunk. I should have just called 4-RIDE and saved Jay from having to walk me to Potomac and back. But he'd insisted, and in my drunkenness, I was unable to refuse the offer of having a buddy walk me back.

"Mmhm, sounds good to me," I slur in agreement as we approach my dorm building, "This is me. You know your way back?"

He nods enthusiastically. "Had two years practice. Having best friends that go here helps," I laugh at this answer - it was a stupid question. "Well, I'm really glad that you dumped your coffee on Climer, because I like love you now, and we're gonna chill, right?"

"Duh!" Drunk. Drunk. I hug my companion, who pecks me on the cheek.

He turns and heads back to Ivory, as I attempt to swipe my GWorld.

Whoever devised this 3-swipes to get into the building thing is going to die, I swear.