Something More (5 page)

Jamison did his homework and was lounging on the couch when Ethan came home. It was pretty late in the afternoon. He figured Ethan spent the afternoon with Nyla. He’d seen them leave campus together.

“How was your study session with your girlfriend?” Jamison followed this with kissing noises.

“It’s not like that; I was at the library,
alone
,” Ethan sounded annoyed. He went to his room and put his books away. Jamison smiled to himself.

“You guys going out tonight?” he asked as nonchalantly as he could.

“No, we haven’t set another date.” Jamison rolled his lips to keep from smiling too big.

“Then you know what we need to do? He stood and rubbed his hands together.

“What’s that?” Ethan slumped into the armchair.

“Throw a housewarming party.” Jamison reached for his phone. He had about fifty new numbers in his phone from people he’d met on campus already.

“I don’t know. Don’t we need to send out invites and get refreshments?” Ethan looked nervously toward his messy room.

“This isn’t your twelfth birthday party; it’s only five now. I’ll get a text invite going and hit the store. You straighten up around here and call Nyla. Invite her and anyone else you want. I’ll be back in twenty minutes. Tell her come around nine-thirty.” He went to his room, grabbed his keys and wallet, and returned to the front door, putting his hand on the doorknob. Ethan sat there, still staring at his bedroom.

“Go on, Romeo. Clean it up; give yourself an excuse to get her in there and get those drawls.” Everything inside him violently convulsed as it fought that statement. But he wanted to project the appearance of a supportive friend. He shut the door and fell against the wall for support. Why did the thought of Nyla being intimate with someone affect him like that? He didn’t get it. He thought maybe he felt protective of her, not wanting her to make any mistakes, but that theory didn’t feel quite right. This feeling went right along with the panic he felt at the thought of not seeing her every day. He steadied himself and went to the market on the corner. He got chips, dip, a fruit and veggie tray, pop, ice, and texted one of his over twenty-one friends the list for alcohol. In that short amount of time, he already had thirty confirmations. Back at the apartment set the bags on the counter as Ethan came out with the dust pan. Jamison got to cleaning too. It wasn’t hard. His mother had raised him in a meticulously clean house. It had rubbed off on him. He didn’t complain about Ethan’s cluttered room
much
because he could always close the door. He made his bed every day and did a load of laundry every few days so that it wasn’t too piled up. So it only took him an hour to clean the apartment. Ethan finished his room around the same time. They both took showers, Ethan in the main bathroom, Jamison in his masterbath. It was close to eight when the first guests began to arrive. His friend who brought the alcohol brought a few friends. They began to set up food and a drink station. Most of the guest arrived at eight-thirty.

“I thought you said the party was starting at nine-thirty?” Ethan asked, confused.

“No, I told you to tell Nyla to arrive around nine-thirty.” Jamison fixed a pretty blond girl a drink and winked as he handed it to her.

“Thanks, Jami.” She fanned herself, giggling to her friends in the corner as she walked away from him.

“Why did you tell me to tell her nine-thirty?” Ethan crossed his arms and leaned against the counter.

“Because,” he handed him a red plastic cup, “you need a drink or two in you first, and she can make an entrance. She’ll probably show up around nine fifteen anyway; she’s always early, and if there’s a full house, she won’t be so intimidated. Trust me; I know her.” Jamison took a drink from his own cup. Ethan followed his lead and took a drink. He winced and swallowed hard.

“What is this?” He grimaced.

“Crown and coke.” Jamison tipped his cup to toast. “Here’s to an evening to remember, or forget, but regardless, here’s to an evening.” Ethan looked at him, confused as he tapped his cup to Jamison’s. They both took another drink. Jamison didn’t wince as Ethan did, and he was a little jealous of how smoothly it went down for Jamison.

“Time to mingle; don’t hold up the counter. Make yourself useful, and be sociable.” Jamison patted him on the back as he went to a circle of people talking in the living room. Ethan watched Jamison command the room with his confidence and without thinking took another drink. This drink was a little easier going down. He found the guys from one of his study groups, and Jamison smirked at his predictability. He didn’t go to strangers. This was his house; he should have been comfortable talking to anyone, but he went to a comfortable zone. Jamison shook his head as the door opened. He looked up and saw Nyla. She wore a black, spaghetti-strapped dress. Her hair hung in long, loose curls and her bangs were pulled back off her face. He gasped quietly. One of the guys he was talking to looked at her and swore under his breath.

“Introduce me.” He nudged Jamison. Jamison shook his head.

“She’s taken.” He held up his cup toward Ethan, who was walking toward her with a goofy grin on his face.

“Too bad.” He went back to the conversation. Jamison nodded but couldn’t take his eyes off Ethan and Nyla.

“You made it,” Ethan smiled and kissed her cheek. He smelled like liquor. She scrunched her nose.

“Have you been drinking?”

“Yeah, a little. Do you want something to drink?” She looked around the party. Everyone had drinks. Jamison was engrossed in conversation, but he also had a drink in his hand. She nodded, and he took her hand and led her to the kitchen area. What do you want? She looked around confused. She didn’t know; she rarely drank, and when she did, it was usually a hard lemonade or wine cooler. All these bottles were hard liquors and expensive.

“A state fair.” Jamison stepped behind her, putting his hands on her waist so that he could squeeze between the counter and her.

“What’s that?” She looked at him with wide innocent eyes.

“Vodka, Seven-Up, and Lemonade.” He poured it over ice as he explained. He handed it to her; she tasted it and smiled.

“This is nice.” Ethan shook his head, annoyed that she didn’t grimace when she drank, too. He wondered if he was the only one who didn’t like the taste of liquor. Jamison refilled his Crown and coke. They mingled and talked and laughed with their friends. Jamison realized she’d finally come into her own. This was where she belonged. He smiled at how comfortable she was.

“You want some privacy?” Ethan asked as he staggered into her. It was obvious to her he didn’t drink often.

“Yeah, sure.” She offered, he didn’t notice the tension of her voice, all he heard was that she said yes.

“Refill.” Ethan held up his cup triumphantly that he had finished his second drink already and took hers. Then he staggered to the counter and tried to remember how Jamison mixed their drinks earlier. He returned a few minutes later and took her hand. She looked around the room, feeling eyes on her, but no one seemed to notice. She took a long sip and the vodka burned as it slid down her throat. He led her to his bedroom, a nice room with nice furniture. She wondered if the apartment was completely furnished or if this was his furniture. Knowing Jamison’s family, it was furnished. He turned on his stereo and played a CD. It was a slow song. He wrapped an arm around her waist and taking her hand, he began to rock back and forth. She rested her head against his shoulder, finally feeling the tightness in her chest ease. She wasn’t a center of attention, college party kind of girl. She was a stay in and talk kind of girl.

“This is nice,” she said softly.

“I get nervous in crowds.” He slurred his words a little.

“I like your room.” She rocked with him off beat.

“I like you.” He took a sip and she smiled.

“Is that your confidence in a cup?” she teased.

“Not everyone is as suave as you and Jamison and can drink so smoothly.”

“Did you see how much vodka he put in my drink? Barely even a shot. Unlike you when you topped it off.” She shook her head and looked up in his glazed eyes.

“Oh,” was all he said, as he continued to sway off beat. She turned him around and allowed him to sit down on the side of the bed. She sat down beside him and took another drink. He fell back and stared at the ceiling. She caught his cup before it spilled and sat it on his nightstand.

“I want to kiss you so bad.” He didn’t look at her. She laughed nervously but didn’t answer him; instead she took another sip of her drink. He closed his eyes and sighed. He didn’t open them. She sat there watching him. Then he began to snore. She took off his glasses and his shoes. Pulling down his blanket on the other side of the bed she convinced him to roll over so she could cover him up. She turned off the lights and closed his door behind her. She was beginning to feel the vodka. She steadied herself. Jamison made a beeline for her,

“Are you OK?” He held her at her elbow as she smiled thankfully at him.

“Ethan obviously didn’t attend the Jamison Wilson Bartending School.” She held up her cup. He smelled it and winced.

“Wow, and you drank it?” He took it from her. It was almost gone.

“I didn’t want to be rude.” She waved her hands as she talked, and he began to lead her back to the kitchen when she stopped abruptly.

“I need to go; I have to work tomorrow.” He looked at the clock; it was only eleven.

“OK. I’ll walk you out.” She nodded and staggered toward the sofa table to get her purse. “Whoa, maybe I should walk you home.” He took her arm again and steadied her.

“That might be a good idea.” She leaned into him. He reached around her and grabbed her clutch. In one hand he carried her purse, and the other one wrapped around her waist as he walked her to the elevator. They didn’t talk much for the first half of the walk home. She leaned against him and smelled his distinct fragranced scent. It was so different from Ethan, but it gave her the same stirring if not more. She caught her breath a few times, and he looked down at her quizzically.

“Did you have a good time tonight?” he asked, finally breaking the silence.

“You always knew how to throw a party,” she chuckled, though she’d never attended his parties after their sisters went off to college, she’d just heard the rumors. He nodded, remembering all the parties he or Lindsey threw when his parents went out of town. Lindsey had taught him well in the art of hosting.

Nyla giggled suddenly bombarded with happy memories of Jamison as she said, “Remember when we were in eighth grade and my mom went to that conference, and we stayed with you guys that weekend?” She snuggled closer to him; he tightened his grip on her.

“Yeah, you and I rented all those movies. Uggh, those romantic comedies. What was your thing with Sandra Bullock?” He laughed.

“I seem to remember a particular scary movie, and I couldn’t sleep that night.” She shook her head, laughing.

“Oh, yeah. You kept hearing noises and making me go check them out. My mom tried to get you to sleep in the guest room, and you said you didn’t want to be alone.” She had ended up crawling into bed with him. He smiled thinking about the cuddling they had done.

“And Nadia and Lindsey threw a fit and wouldn’t let me sleep in their room,” she continued.

“My parents wouldn’t have even known they’d thrown a get-together that night if they hadn’t found all the movies we had in my room. I hated Lindsey sometimes for locking us in my room during those parties.” She put her arm around his back, stumbling a little as he tightened his grip on her and crushed her against him.

“I thought you hated Lindsey for locking you in your room with me because you hated me,” she said quietly. They were outside her building now.

“I didn’t hate you then.” He said it before he thought about it.

“Then,” she repeated and nodded her head, understanding what he was saying. She pulled away from him. “Thank you for walking me home.” She turned to climb the stairs and stumbled forward. He grabbed her, trying to soften the fall, but she still scraped up her knee. Her eyes watered, and he knelt down in front of her with her calf in his hands as he looked at it. Then he looked up at her looking so fragile.

“Where are your keys?” She handed them over. He helped her stand, and then into her aprartment. After unlocking her door, he led her to the sofa. She sat down. He went to the kitchen and ripped off a couple of papertowels and wet them.. He knelt in front of her and dabbed her knee delicately. She winced in pain as she leaned her head on her elbow watching him.

“Is that better?” he asked, as he blew on her knee. She nodded.

“Band-Aids?” His eyes held hers.

“In the bathroom off the kitchen.” He stood and followed her instructions. He didn’t see her bedroom; he wondered where that door was hidden. He returned with a large Band-Aid. He opened it as he knelt in front of her again. He leaned in and kissed the scrape. She gasped and looked at him in confusion.

“My mom always kissed my boo-boo’s,” he said with a smirk as he put the Band-Aid on.

“I’m not three, Jamison.” He stood and smiled down on her.

“No, you’re not, but you are safe at home.” She nodded to him seriously. When he went to the door, she stood and followed him. “Just so I will sleep well tonight, use that chain.” He motioned to the chain hanging beside the door. She nodded and closed the door behind him.

Chapter 5

Ethan emerged from his bedroom still in his clothes from the night before, holding his head and squinting at the light. Jamison sat at the table eating eggs and bacon.

“You hungry?” Jamison asked. Ethan’s face turned three shades of green.

“No, I’m good.” He went over to the refrigerator and took out a Gatorade. Jamison continued eating.

“How are you able to eat? I saw you drinking last night too.” Ethan fell into the couch.

“Oh, I don’t drink. I was just drinking coke,” Jamison shrugged.

“I DON’T DRINK! You told me—” He trailed off realizing that Jamison hadn’t told him he had to drink. “How long did Nyla stay after I passed out?” He groaned.

“Not long, she had to work today. She was a little tipsy when she left though, and next party you don’t mix drinks, OK?” Jamison took his empty plate to the sink and began to wash it.

“How did she get home? You didn’t let her walk by herself, did you?” Ethan sat up, his expression accusing.

“No, I walked her home and made sure she made it up to her apartment. She was fine.” Jamison crossed the living room to go to his room.

“So let me get this straight,
I
drank too much and didn’t get anywhere with her, and
YOU
walked her home. Did you kiss her?” Ethan slowly rose with his hands in fists.

“No—I mean, no.” Jamison avoided his eyes. “I’m not trying to move in on her. Trust me. No.” He shook his head.

“Back up, what do you mean ‘no, I mean, no’?” Ethan imitated Jamison’s tone.

“Well, she fell and scraped her knee, and I cleaned it up for her, and I kissed it for good measure.” Jamison felt like he was on trial.