She Swims In Lakes
RECOMMENDED TRACK: Jet – Are You Gonna Be My Girl
“🧚🏠”
Emma’s text arrived as I walked back down the street. I had forgotten to take my jacket back, and I was fighting the urge to turn back and take it off of her. And everything else, if she’d let me.
But the text quieted the urge, replaced it with something warm and ticklish. I tapped out three different versions of a reply and finally just sent back:
“Tuesday 🎹”
The walk back to Sig House was quiet. Or maybe I just ignored any of the sounds of Halloween happening around me. My mind was leaping from sheet music to bedsheets to questioning what the hell I thought I was doing.
It was not the blunt admission of reading dirty books that got me, though her casual tone had surprised me. No, it’s…I mentioned before, the girls I meet, they swim in two lanes: aggressive girls who want to be shocking and nervous girls who want to be coaxed.
I think Emma does not know the pool exists. She swims in lakes. The things she says, they’re not a hint, not a demand, not a pretense. They’re just…her. Just for me to know more about her. About what she wants.
Praise.
Spoiling.
Devotion.
I had over three years’ reputation for easy, good, gone. What she wanted was not in the wheelhouse of Misha, God of Party. Particularly that last thing. But all of it was very much buried underneath the surface, under my skin where I am just plain Misha.
It was the second time Emma had pierced right through my shell, and as I walked back, I was starting to see the trouble I was in. There had never been a point to wanting anything more than easy, good, gone. And there was still no point to wanting more. I couldn’t want more.
I must not make something I might miss.
I heard the house before I saw it. The party was still going strong enough to break through my thinking. It was only eleven. Things would not even start winding down for hours yet. I climbed up the porch and threw open the door, eager to drown out the feeling of being stripped raw under the throbbing bass.
A few guys saw me enter and yelled out greetings, clapped my arm. Misha is back! Now the party can really start. Muscle memory took over and I smiled back at them like a fool.
My father was a firm believer in the Russian saying that ‘smiling with no reason is a sign of stupidity.’ I had wanted him to think me stupid, so I made it my mission to smirk often. And that was even before I came to America, the land of easy smiles. I used the same smirk to fool these people, too. I accepted drinks, nodded as they pointed out which girls and boys they had their eyes on. Said a few things in dumb broken English. Tried to dance. Everything I usually do to distract myself.
But every other minute, I either thought of her sad eyes when she said Petrushka the soft-hearted or the way her voice went a little husky when she said daddy energy. It was a strange sort of whiplash.
Finally, I lurched into the kitchen to fetch a proper shot of vodka, or what passed for it in America. Instead, I ran into a short brick wall. I grabbed the wall’s arm. It was Kane, the brother who’d jumped off the landing earlier. And I’d just knocked his beer out of his hand.
Blyat. Kane was only a sophomore, but he could even make Calloway look friendly when he was in a mood.
“Fucking hell, man,” he said, shaking the beer off his hand.
“Izvini, Kane,” I said, putting on my biggest, dumbest grin and my biggest, dumbest accent. “I am very sorry. Did not mean to. A man needs his Stoli, da?”
“Fuck you, ‘comrade,’” he spat. He was a few inches shorter than me but spent as much time at the boxing gym nearby, maybe more. When we spar, he’s measured, cautious. But in front of a crowd? He defends his space like a cornered dog. He put one hand out and gave me a little push. “Get me another beer.”
I shoved down the urge to snap back that maybe he shouldn’t have been blocking a fucking doorway in the first place. “Ehh, I think…no. American beer is piss water anyway. Was really doing you a favor,” I said, trying to duck past him.
He stepped to the side and blocked me, shoving his baseball cap around so he could look me dead in the eye. “Get me. Another. Beer. Asshole.”
I considered whether I should let the kid get away with it or not, balanced against my inner turbulence. If I could not fuck my way out this agitation, could I fight it out?
…No. If I threw a punch just then, I was pretty sure it would end in actual injury. His or mine, or maybe some innocent bystander’s. Who could say?
But the people around us were crowding, oohing, and waiting to see what would happen. I may not be as sensitive as Kane about playing top dog, but Misha the God of Party does not back down, either. “I already said no. Does the baseball hat affect hearing?” I said in a light tone. “But…” I made a show of considering the matter. “I will buy first round at Barclay’s next visit,” I offered. “You order top shelf Russian vodka to make up for shitty American beer if you want. Good deal, right?”
Dylan’s shoulders relaxed almost immediately, face saved. Such a great English phrase, saving face. Clean and simple. The Russian equivalent is “ne upast v gryaz litsom”—not falling into the mud with your face. “Fine,” he said, and he even smirked. Cheeky little shit. “It’ll be bourbon, though.”
“Fine, fine,” I said, waving my hand dismissively. “I—”
“Misha? What the fuck!”
Parker swooped in from the other side of the kitchen—from the dining room-turned-beer pong stadium—and pushed me towards a quieter corner, his silly little cape flapping behind him. Parker isn’t like Kane. He’s not scrawny exactly, but he spends time lifting books, not weights. I let him push me anyway.
“Why are you interrupting me again?” I whined.
“You didn’t even stay the fucking night?” He snapped in a harsh whisper. “I didn’t get Adrian out of your way so you could treat her like one of your one night stands, dude!”
I stared at him, confused—for a moment. Of course he thought I’d slept with Emma. Of course he thought I’d taken what I wanted and left. That’s what I do. Fuck, this time last year I was openly shooting for a Halloween high score. (Was a better pickup line than you might expect.)
But this year, I was doing something different. I did not know why, so how would he have known?
“I did not treat her like a one night stand,” I corrected him quietly. But I loomed over him just a little, so he knew I was serious. I was done taking people’s shit. “I walked her home. I came back. I never went inside.”
Parker blinked, furrowed his brow, fiddled with the clasp at his neck. “You…you didn’t?”
“I did not. I was a perfect gentleman,” I said, stepping back and rolling my eyes to cover my discomfort. Parker is a good guy, but not someone I could explain this to. What would I say? If I’d slept with her I would have to not talk to her again, and I want to talk to her again, so I left instead? No.
“…Huh. Okay, sorry,” he said, shaking his head and rubbing the back of his neck. “I mean, Emma doesn’t need me to defend her, I guess,” he said. “But she’s just…a little different. Right?”
I peered down at him, thinking. Parker knew her. Had taught a class with her. “She is,” I said, grinning to show all my teeth as I leaned over him, arm against the wall. Like I’d positioned myself with Emma, but for a very different reason. “How about you tell me more about her, Parker. I am very curious.” I glanced at the red cup in his hand, which was mostly empty, and back to his eyes, slightly red. Tipsy. Good. He might spill more information.
But he almost spilled what was left of his beer instead, catching my dark tone and throwing his hands up like I had pointed a gun at him. “No! No, no, no, I’m not interested in her like that,” he said hastily. “She’s just, she’s crazy smart. She terrorizes the rest of the lit department.”
“Terrorizes? That little fairy queen? Ha!” I laughed. “The lit department spooks easy.”
He groaned. “No, like…she can shred your argument to pieces. But like, in a nice way. She picks it apart and makes you want to thank her for it,” he tried to explain. “But sometimes she picks you apart along with it. I’m pretty sure she made Dr. Williams cry when she pointed out the book he was writing was based on a biased misinterpretation.” He gave an aggravated shrug, rubbing his neck again. “She didn’t mean to make it personal to him, I’m pretty sure. But sometimes it’s like she steps out of her head into someone else’s, then tells everyone what she sees.”
That made sense, the way she had put Calloway in his place. The way she had looked at me when we talked about Petrushka. Would she tell people about it? I was anxious, relieved, and annoyed at the same time, thinking she might treat everyone this way. That what had me feeling so off-kilter might be nothing unusual for her.
But then I remembered national treasure and pink cheeks. Remembered the soft touch of her hand as she handed me her phone, saying I’d like that. I did not know her well, but I had learned enough to be sure she did not hand out those sorts of words like party favors, whatever she might do to Parker and his book buddies.
“So you say she shreds people, and you think I am the threat here?” I told Parker with a scoff.
“No, no, no. Not a threat,” he said in a placating tone. “Just…she’s just not like the girls you usually, um, hang out with,” he trailed off awkwardly.
No argument from me on that. “So why did you get Calloway out of the way, then?” I asked.
Parker shrugged again. “I dunno, I guess…I’ve never seen you look like that talking to a girl,” he said. “Like you wanted to hear more instead of wanting to…you know.”
Yes. I knew.
“Besides, I actually think she’d destroy Adrian,” he added with a wry smile. “He’s brilliant, but she’s perceptive. She’d see through his arguments and I don’t know if he could handle that.” I barked out another laugh at that. But Parker frowned. “He asked me for her number,” he revealed. “I told him it wasn’t my place. I won’t give it to you, either.”
Calloway’s interest in Emma by the fire had surprised me, but his follow-through did not. It did curl inside my chest with a nasty squeeze, though. “I already have it,” I told him with grim satisfaction, crossing my arms.
“Oh…good,” Parker said with a relieved sigh. “But I’m not putting my thumb on the scale anymore.” He sounded almost exasperated. “I’ve never seen him curious about anybody. She really does throw people off their game.”
“She does,” I agreed, clapping my hand on his shoulder. “Thank you for this information, Parker. You are a wonderful brother. I owe you. Booze, books, fewer punches, you decide,” I said, turning to walk back the way I came. Then I paused and glanced over my shoulder. “And you can tell Calloway, if he asks. Tell him Misha is not backing off.” And then I pushed my way into the crowd.
I dodged several girls and a couple of guys who tried to tangle me up in their hip-thrusting dance moves and instead made my way to the stairs that led to the bedrooms. It felt strange, leaving a party early. And not with someone soft pressed against my arm.
But I had sheet music to dig out.
Bonus Content:
Sigma House Learns Russian
Author’s Note
B-Side Track: Oingo Boingo – Dead Man’s Party
And so, the Halloween party ends. Our heroes have met. They’re interested. They’re…concerned. Oh, and then there’s Adrian. Bit of a prick, right? 😏
FUN FACT:
I don’t really have any real-world trivia for this one. How about some in-world trivia? I haven’t talked about the university this story is set at. Crownbridge University was founded by a bunch of aspirational Illuminati in the mid-19th century in Connecticut. Within the universe of this novel, it’s effectively an Ivy League school.
Misha and Adrian are both business majors. Emma is in the English department but her B.A. will be in Comparative Media Studies. Elliott is also in English but specializing in linguistics. Travis is a theater major, Jacob is in chemical engineering (emphasis in biochem), and Dylan is officially undeclared but a chemistry major. Emma’s friend Chloe is in fashion design, and her friend Vi (who you haven’t met yet) is an English major planning to take a full academic track to Ph.D.
HOUSEKEEPING:
From now on, chapters will be coming out every TUESDAY and FRIDAY. This novel is also fully written, so don’t worry, you will get the full story from start to finish. Even if zero people read this.