Serpentine Walls (2 page)

“You’re hot, bro. I ain’t gay”—
duh, Bud—
“but even I can see that.”

All Pete ever saw when he looked in the mirror was a guy of average height and proportions, reasonably fit, with brown hair and hazel eyes. He’d been told he was handsome ever since his early teens, and he could sort of see it, but hot? He wasn’t sure about that.

Bud was, though. “Isn’t he, John? You tell him. I don’t think his ego’s too healthy if he doesn’t even get he’s hot.”

“Can we change the subject?” Pete said.

“Pete,” John intoned, “you are a most attractive specimen of the male persuasion.”

“Jeez.”

“Atta way!” Bud said. “Get him some action tonight at your fairy party.”

“Okay, that’s it! No more talking. You guys are distracting the driver, here.”

John nudged him. “You mean the
hot
driver.”

“P
ETE
!
Thank God!” Angie barreled into him for a hug. “Everything’s a mess, but this is gonna be great!”

Pete dropped his bags on the floor and hugged her back. “Sorry I’m so late.” He took in the living room of their new apartment, where boxes, bags, and clothes sat in disarray. “What mess? Looks like my room at home on a good day.”

Angie’s grin lit up her whole face, as usual. “Let’s go get the rest of your stuff, and then I’ll show you your bedroom. I think you’ll like it.” She followed Pete out to his car. “I’m sooo psyched about this year.”

“You’re always psyched.” Pete handed her his guitar.

“Your guitar! You’re going to play and sing for me every night, right?”

“Yes, dear. Right after I read you your bedtime story. Here, take this too.” Pete gave her a suitcase and grabbed two more.

“Ha, ha, very funny. But seriously,” she said as they crossed the lobby into the apartment and put down their load, “us being roommates is perfect. Last year was nothing but drama at Lambeth. Remind me never to room with five other girls again.” She shuddered as they returned to the car.

“Sure thing. Never do that again.” He handed her a box and gathered the remaining bags. “Okay, that’s it. I’ll move the car around to the back later.” They made the final trek into their place. “So what else are you psyched about?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Just—getting to third year, living off campus with you, and also being able to take the classes I’m interested in. I can’t wait for Film Aesthetics, I’ve been hearing about Professor R forever.”

“Yeah, that should be good. Show me my room.” Pete’s bedroom was large and square, its window facing trees and the garden next door. “Wow, this is nice. Thanks, Ang. You did great finding us a place.”

Angie beamed. She was pretty, with her long dark-brown hair and big blue eyes, but every time Pete tried to tell her so, she denied it, moaning to him about being fat. It drove him crazy. Angie wasn’t “fat” at all—she was curvaceous—a fact that hadn’t escaped the notice of guys like Bud and the others who’d expressed interest in her over the years. But she persisted in believing she was unattractive and a loser in relationships.

“Are you hungry?” Angie asked, watching Pete open a suitcase. “The kitchen stuff isn’t unpacked, but we could go to the Corner and grab some lunch. Then we can go grocery shopping.”

“Yeah, sounds good. Oh, and John has a party for us to go to tonight. It’s at one of Cleo’s friend’s, so there’ll be lots of artsy types.”

“Oh, goodie! Sounds like fun.”

“Yup. Maybe you’ll find that sensitive artist guy you’re always fantasizing about.”

“Sensitive
gay
artist guy, you mean. But hey, you might finally meet someone good! I don’t know why someone hasn’t snapped you up yet, Mr. Gorgeous.”

“God, you sound like Bud.” Pete pulled out the top drawer in his dresser. “He’s trying to help me out with my love life by telling me how ‘hot’ I am.”

“Uh-oh. Although it’s true.”

“Oh, and he wanted me to set you two up.”

“Bud? Oh God, no.” Angie laughed. “See, that’s the problem. He’s interested in me, and I’m like, ew! But you—you’re perfect. I’d date you in a heartbeat.”

Pete automatically shook his head.

“I mean it!” Angie said, handing him a pile of socks. “You’re fun and smart and did I mention gorgeous?”

“Jeez, Ang. I could say the same about you. You’re funny, you rock, and you’re a babe too.”

“See? You appreciate me, you think I’m great. I wanna date someone like you.” She flopped down on the bed with a glum expression. “Why are all the good ones gay? Or taken, like John?”

“Brian isn’t,” Pete pointed out, shutting the top drawer and opening the one underneath. Brian was the proverbial nice guy who’d crushed on Angie ever since junior high and in whom Angie had no interest, despite his curly brown hair and sweet smile. Pete thought Brian and Angie would be great together.

“Brian. Please.” Angie rolled her eyes.

“Poor guy. He’s still gone over you. I don’t think he’s ever gotten over us going to Senior Prom together, instead of you and him.”

“Pete.” Angie’s eyes were wide, her face solemn. “I just got a strong feeling.”

Pete waited. Angie’s “strong feelings” had made appearances throughout the years, and at times they were eerily on the mark.

“I just got that
this
is the year that you and I are gonna find The One.”

Pete finished filling the second drawer and shut it. “‘The One’? As in our soul mates or some shit? You go right ahead—I’ll pass.”

“Fine. But I’m going to remind you of this conversation once it happens.” Angie hopped off the bed. “Let’s go to lunch, I’m starving.”

Following her out, Pete couldn’t help but think of his parents.
The One
.
Right. That’s what Mom and Dad thought, and look what happened to them
. He tightened his jaw as they emerged into the hot sunshine and told himself to get over it.

“S
O
,
WHO
are these people having the party?” Angie asked.

She, Pete, John, and Cleo walked along the sidewalk in a residential area off of Rugby Road, not far from the apartment.

“Matthew and Parker,” Cleo answered, her hand in John’s. “They’re grad students in the art department. They actually live with a bunch of other people, but Matthew and Parker are the ones who put on the parties.”

“What are they like?” Angie asked.

“Matthew rocks. Parker, I can do without.”

Cleo sported spiky pink-and-black hair and an all-black ensemble tonight. A fourth-year art major, she had a unique style, and Pete considered her way cooler than the rest of them could ever hope to be. She was beautiful too, Asian American, with delicate features, although there was nothing delicate about her. Her personality was as intense as her style, and she and John couldn’t be any more different on the surface, but she loved him with a fierceness that Pete found almost scary, even as he sometimes envied it.

“Are they a couple?” Angie bounced along with her usual enthusiasm as they approached a blue two-story house complete with white shutters and a screen porch on one side. “Nice house.” Angie had gone with all black tonight also, although her attempt at a Goth look was completely at odds with her upbeat personality and friendly face.

“No. Parker has a boyfriend. I don’t know what Matthew is. I’ve never seen him date anyone, guy or girl. This should be fun—their parties are legendary in the art department.”

They walked up the steps, hearing through the open window someone doing a better-than-passable rendition of “Mack The Knife” amid a cacophony of laughter and talking.

“I like this music.” Pete hummed along as they entered the house.

Inside, a lively crowd stood laughing and talking in groups. A garishly made-up woman in a wig and tiara posed in a corner while a short man wearing angel wings took her picture. On second glance, Pete realized the person in the tiara was actually a man. He turned and surveyed the room: definitely an art-school crowd—a sea of hip, black clothing dotted here and there with the bright colors of some over-the-top outfit. He felt out of place in his khaki shorts and light-gray T-shirt with the colored thunderbolts Angie had made him wear because it was so tight, but he took consolation in John, who had on his trusty Black Keys tee and denim cutoffs.

“Cleo!” A cute guy approached, and as he leaned over to kiss Cleo on the cheek, Pete checked out the ass showcased in his tight jeans.
Hmm, attractive
. He had wavy reddish-brown hair and, amazingly enough, wasn’t wearing black. Pete approved of his navy-blue T-shirt with a poster of
Cinema Paradiso
; he loved movies.

“Hi, Matthew,” Cleo said. “Thanks for the invite. I think you’ve met John, my boyfriend. John Borden, Matthew Layton.” Matthew and John nodded to each other and playfully bumped fists. “And these are our friends, Pete Morgan and Angie Miles.”

Matthew turned to them, and when Pete saw his bright-blue eyes and great smile, he revised his internal rating from “attractive” to “wow.”

“Welcome to our humble abode, y’all. There’s booze and food in the dining room, and the karaoke and dancing is through there.” Matthew pointed to a beaded curtain. “Oh, and Parker might drag you somewhere to take a picture, so be ready to pose. We have boas, wigs, angel wings—all that good stuff.” His eyes seemed to linger on Pete, as if he liked what he saw, but Pete decided that was wishful thinking when a blonde girl with a low-cut sequined halter top came over and put her arm around Matthew, whispering something in his ear that made him laugh and give her a hug.

“He’s dreamy,” Angie murmured to Pete as they headed for the dining room to get something to drink.

“Go for it,” Pete said, looking over the booze selection. They had everything imaginable to drink, but he settled for a beer.

“Me? I’m not the one he was staring at.”

Pete was about to respond when he caught the sound of a male voice doing a killer rendition of Prince’s “Kiss” over the karaoke system. The guy’s falsetto sounded so amazing that Pete was pretty sure he knew who it was.

“Let’s go see who’s singing,” he said to Angie, and, drinks in hand, they wove their way through the crowd in the living room and parted the beaded curtain to enter a large den.

A few people danced. A larger number stood listening to the song being belted out, and yes, it was Aidan Emery doing the belting.

“Oh, him,” Angie breathed. “He’s so gorgeous.” She gave Pete a look. “And so, so gay.”

“I know, don’t remind me.”

He eyed Aidan—tall and sexy, with those striking green eyes and that shaggy mane of blond hair. (He and John called it “Fabio hair.”) Pete knew he was a little obsessed with him—he’d gone to every single performance of the student plays Aidan had starred in over the last two years, which John found hilarious. He wasn’t surprised to hear John’s voice in his ear right now; he must have followed them in.

“There’s your crush. Better make a move, my man, he’s graduating this year.”

Pete nodded but didn’t answer; he was too busy gaping at Aidan. He wore a dark-purple shirt unbuttoned to show most of his chest, a silver belt, and tight black pants that left little to the imagination as he writhed and channeled Prince, mesmerizing the crowd with his performance. Pete wondered how Aidan wasn’t melting in those long sleeves—it was still muggy and hot, even at nine in the evening—but he looked cool and comfortable.

Aidan finished, bowing with a flourish to appreciative whistles and applause, and then relinquished the microphone to a quartet of women who were jabbering about singing a Spice Girls song. He and a group of his fellow theater students were exiting the room when Aidan caught Pete staring, smirked at him, and winked before vanishing through the beaded curtain.

“He winked at you!” Angie exclaimed, nudging him.

Pete was as surprised as she was but tried to act casual. “Yeah, well, we’re in U. Singers together, so we kind of know each other.”
Kind of—more like not at all.
“He—uh, he’s probably just a winker.”

Angie, John, and Cleo, who had joined them, holding a glass of brandy, started to laugh.

“A winker?” John said. “Is that like a wanker, only better?”

“Sod off, you wanker!” Angie said in a terrible British accent.

Pete groaned.

“Yeah, and stop wanking in Matthew’s den!” Cleo said.

“Who’s beating off?” John looked around the room, feigning horror. “And how’d we get to sex so soon?” He pulled Cleo against his side and kissed her temple.

Although Pete joined in the laughter, he was still reeling from being noticed by Aidan at all—Aidan the sex god, who always seemed to be surrounded by male admirers. Pete had spent all of last year in University Singers staring at the back of Aidan’s head and having inappropriate sexual fantasies while singing Mozart and Bach. University Singers was a large ensemble, though; Aidan probably didn’t even know his name.

When the women finished their Spice Girls number, Aidan returned to the karaoke machine with a couple of guys who were also in University Singers—Jay and Lee. They looked through the selections, and then Aidan pointed to one. After a brief discussion, Aidan called out, “We need another guy for this one, preferably a baritone.”

“Aren’t you a baritone?” John asked Pete and, without waiting for an answer, pushed him forward while pointing at the top of his head and shouting, “Here ya go!”

Oh God
. Pete turned to scowl at him but stopped when he heard Aidan say his name.

“Pete! Yeah, come up here. We need you on this next one.”

“Yay, he wants you! Get up there.” Angie took Pete’s beer out of his hand.

Well, fuck. He knows my name?
Pete started up to the front. He didn’t mind performing—he came from a long line of hams. His dad and siblings were all loud and boisterous, and while he and his mom were the quieter members of the family, Pete loved to sing. But doing it tonight while standing next to Aidan, his super-crush, was another matter. He hoped he didn’t choke.

Pete reached the karaoke machine. He was noticing how striking Aidan’s green eyes were up close and wondering how someone could look this good in real life when Aidan put his arm around his shoulder and pulled him into the group.
Holy shit
.
He even smells amazing
. Pete swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry.