The Size Sorority: 1.3

The girl seemed fun and easy-going, and that lightened him. He said, "Let me take a closer look," and stepped towards her so they were toe to toe, and looked directly in her eyes. Though there was an awful tension, it was also bursting with humor. He said, "They’re pretty beautiful. They're more than just brown, aren’t they? Chestnut, gold…"

She said, "You’re that guy, aren’t you?"

His stomach flinched. He said, "What guy?" Blood drained from his cheeks.

"You can tell me."

He repeated, "What guy?"

She said, "I know it’s you. You're the guy in the picture."

"What picture?" He stepped back.

"It’s okay. Just tell me."

There was nothing he wanted more than to leave this girl behind now. He shrugged with fake confidence, gave her a smirk, showed her his palms, saying, "I don’t even know what you’re talking about." He walked away.

Before he made it out of the hall, she had said, "It’s okay," one more time. But he wasn’t turning back, and he continued to his table. He rejoined his friends, and listened in on the conversation. Too tight inside to register what they were saying, just imitating a pleasant face while his mind raced a thousand miles an hour.

The girl emerged from the hallway, heading towards the bar, but watching him. He darted a glance toward her. She gave him a funny smile. He looked away.

Then she was at his shoulder, and she put her lips close to his ear, said, "I didn’t mean anything by it. I’m sorry." Then she patted his back, and stood. It was like she was giving him a chance to say something, but he just was not the guy in the photo. He would never say he was. So he shrugged again, said, "Sorry," like he still didn’t know what she was talking about.

She looked sheepishly back to her table, then bowed again like she would whisper in his ear. He faced his friends, noting now that their conversation had ended. This girl was way too pretty to be at their table, and they wanted to know what the hell was going on here.

In his ear she whispered, "I liked the photo." Then she walked away.

Michael watched her as she returned to her table and joined her friends, never making a mention of her exchange with the guy with the little dick, not waggling her little finger and all of them looking over and laughing at him.

He was unsure. Didn’t know what to make of this. His friends were saying things to him, but he didn’t comprehend.

Someone tugged at his arm. Jack said, "Dude, what the hell was that?"

He turned to them, said, "I don’t know. Just some girl." And he shrugged like this was the kind of thing that happened to him all the time.

*

When dinner was over, everyone settled their bill. He and Alex and Jay and Phil filed out together, his exchange with the pretty girl now forgotten. All except for him. He couldn’t stop thinking about it. So while he tagged along at the back of the line, falling behind Phil, he veered right when everyone went straight, headed for the front door. He passed through the bar, seeing the pretty brown-eyed girl still there. She registered him coming, and it brought a smile to her face. He got to the table, and leaned to her as she had leaned to him. Her friends watched. He whispered, "Sorry if I was rude."

The brown-eyed girl put a hand on the lapel of his jacket and pulled him closer so she could whisper in his ear. She said, "I was the one being rude. I’m sorry."

He told her it was okay, and she turned to her curious friends, excused herself, saying to Michael, "Come with me."

Alex, Jay, and Phil stood at the door watching him. He showed them a smile, and waved them away. They left with bewildered faces. They knew the code—though this was a rule they'd never explored before. The girl led him to the hallway where they had met. She held his hand.

"Look, maybe I was being dumb," she said. "Or too forward or something. But I’m sorry. Nothing came out the way I wanted."

"It’s okay," he said.

She went to her toes, and he couldn’t believe it: she was coming in for a kiss. Their lips met, and he tasted beer and felt her breath on his skin. It was a nice exchange, tender, not forceful; just a sweet kiss. When she looked in his eyes, she said, "I was serious. Serious about liking the picture."

"Okay," he muttered, still not wanting to admit to being the subject of the photo.

She’d been holding his lapels when they kissed, now back down on the soles of her feet, her hands lowered, one coming to rest on his belt, the other dipping below. She cupped him between the legs. He flinched, but didn’t move away. He knew what he had didn’t fill out her palm. But she didn’t mention it. This was always the hardest part when he met a girl. Letting her know his most private thing. Worried about acceptance and disappointment. This girl already knew, and didn’t seem to care. She'd said she liked it. It was all very strange, somewhat intoxicating, but he wasn’t going to stop her. Her hand cupped and squeezed, feeling around to find what he had.

She whispered, "Show it to me."

"Show you?"

"I want to see it."

Mike frowned, his mouth turning down in a grimace, and he whispered, "You're just going to make fun of me."

"I swear on my life I will not make fun of it."

While as frightening as the moment seemed, it was also something out of a dream. The ones he'd had when he was in puberty. So he offered no more resistance. He undid his fly, fished around with two fingers into the Y-front of his underwear, found what he had, wishing it was harder. Then after a brief moment of reluctance, he tugged his little thing out of the front of his pants.

The girl looked down, both hands resting on his belt now, shielding them should anyone come into the hall to visit the bathroom.

"So, there it is," he said.

Her head shifted from left to right as she regarded it, eyes lowered, a positive but mirthful smirk on her mouth. After examination, she said, "I like it," looking in his eyes.

"I like it, too," he said, voice light and faraway.

A figure blotted the end of the hallway, a patron coming to use the facilities. Without prompting, this girl, whose name he didn’t even know yet, pressed herself against his body and kissed him again, the act covering up the thing he had brought out for her, and making it look like this was just a boyfriend and girlfriend sharing a kiss. He worked his lips against hers, his heart pounding, feeling wild excitement for this girl who had not existed to him an hour ago, but was now a desperate thing he needed in his life. He gripped her arms and kissed her harder. She gave him her tongue and he took it. The unseen patron passed behind them and entered the washroom door on the right.

She broke their kiss. "Come back with me."

"Where?"

"Come back to my place."

He agreed with clutched breath, stiff fingers working his penis back into his pants and zipping himself up.

She said, "Yeah? Okay, you will?"

Mike nodded again, and put a hand on her back as she turned and they walked out of the hall together. They passed along the path his friends had taken on the outside of the wall separating the bar, and she waved to her friends good night. They went outside to the main street, into the fresh and cold night air. Streetlights had come on, lighting the sidewalk in flickering apricot. She took his hand as they turned left.

He said, "You don’t live on campus?"

"No," she said. "My place is just up ahead."

"What’s your name?"

"Alexis," she said.

"I’m Michael."

"I know," she said. "I knew it was you."

"That’s right."

"It’s okay," she told him. "You can trust me."

"Yeah, I think I can."

"You can," she said, trying to catch his eye.

He looked in her deep brown eyes and felt like she was serious. They walked a little while, getting past where the stores were and turning onto a side street that he recognized. He said, "Where is your house?"

Alexis felt his hesitation, and she tugged his arm to encourage him to keep up with her. "I swear it’s okay," she said.

But still he faltered. "It’s up ahead?"

"Yeah, it’s up ahead."

"You go to NHU?"

"Yeah," she said. "Of course I do."

"You in a sorority?"

"I am," she said.

"For fuck's sake," he said and stopped. "You're an OKE?"

She stopped with him, still holding his hand. She faced him, saying, "I told you you can trust me."

"You can’t trust a sorority girl."

That made her laugh, but she said, "You can trust me, Michael."

"You're going to take me there, and someone's gonna dump pig's blood on my head."

She flinched and turned her mouth down. "Pig's blood? What the hell is that about?"

"Mean girls," he said.

Alexis rolled her eyes. "What, mean girls put pig's blood on people?"

“Just the ones they think aren’t good enough and they want to humiliate them.”

“Michael, you’re good enough. I came to you.”

“That’s what I’m afraid of.” Not only was she familiar with the photo of him, Alexis had probably joined in on the pile-on, all the girls in that group chat making fun of how small his penis was.

“Stop being difficult,” Alexis said, and took his other hand so she held both of them now, walking backwards, leading him further down the street. He stepped hesitatingly, but he followed her. There was something about her that seemed genuine, even if she was from OKE.

Sure enough, dead ahead on the left-hand side, he saw the white sign with the brass plaque that said Omega Kappa Epsilon. Out front of Starlight Manor. The Bitch Nest. A three-story Victorian mansion in the New Haven village. The home of the OKE women. It was a Wednesday night and there weren’t any parties, but all the lights were on, and there were girls sitting on the porch, lounging in wicker chairs, and some could be seen lingering in the dining room hall where he'd had the conversation with that nasty blonde bitch who'd taken the picture of his penis so she could show all her friends.

Mike slowed again, and Alexis made an exasperated but comical sigh. "Get over here," she said and pulled him along the walk between the gardens and up to the patio steps.