Page 23 of First Kiss with a Mothman

Seven

MORT

Why did I think this was a good idea? I could be chilling in the solitude of my attic right now. The noises of our mixers have always been a background soundtrack I could ignore. Everyone at Alpha Claw Omega knows the rules: I pay my dues, I pay half the rent, and in return, I’m left alone as much as possible. Caleb should have oriented the pledges to my personal deal as well. All the frat brothers should know that my showbiz past is an irritating subject.

But nothing is as irritating as this scene. It’s a weekend night, and our first party of the semester is underway. I stand in the kitchen-dining area that connects to the living room as others wander around me, red cups in hand. Like natural disasters, frat parties have been the same since the dawn of time and will continue to unfold in a similar manner after we’re all old and gray. Our fraternity has cleared out most of the finer furniture and carpets on this floor to make way for the beer pong table. Less upholstery means fewer alcohol-related stains. And everyone is smiling except me.

See, the loud music I can tolerate. The presence of strangers making out in my home I can tolerate. Even the weird smells I can tolerate. The odors of weed, booze, pizza, and sweat are basically permanently embedded into the house walls anyway.

It’s the sight before me that has me clenching my fists.

Arie. Is here. Grinding up on one of my frat brothers.

They’re not the only people dancing. Humans, golems, werewolves, and Aztec mummies are moving and shaking, sharing drinks and kissing each other. This throwback hip hop song is all about backing their asses up, so that’s not surprising. I just didn’t realize Arie would get so messy. I stupidly believed that he would play it cool or at least pace himself.

But no, the moment he and his cousin got here an hour ago, they informed me they each already took a shot, just like all the other undergrads who filed in with them. A party is nothing without happy revelers, so I can’t fault a chunk of the student body for pregaming. Caleb is probably thrilled since nearly everyone has chipped in cash to chug some of our Boowery beer.

How am I supposed to be thrilled? Arie has been chatting with every guy, shamelessly touting that he’s gay and single, asking everyone to dance. And he’s settled on my minotaur frat brother, Shorley.

Freaking Colin Shorlowitz? Seriously? That junior-year dumb-dumb who barely passes his classes? He’s so dense. I once saw him eat a Blob Tart with the wrapper still on it. It wasn’t even a dare; he just did it because he was lazy! My point is that Arie could do better.

I understand that most of my frat is bisexual or gay, and we don’t enjoy dating guys in the same frat. Hooking up with randoms at the first party of the year is very common. And I recognize that I don’t date at all, because I’m not a good enough person to deserve a boyfriend.

But does Arie have to grind up on him here? This is my home, and he’s being so drunk and messy. And Shorley is letting him; tall, broad-shouldered, athletic, life-of-the-party Shorley.

Shorley is everything I’m not. And watching them dance and laugh makes me want to yank my antennae off.

“I didn’t realize Shorley was a flame.” Caleb’s voice yanks me out of my spiraling.

“Huh?”

“You’re a moth, and you’re clearly obsessed with him.” He smirks at me and sips. “Moth…flame. Get it?”

He hiccups a laugh, and my scowl softens. I’ve heard all the terrible jokes over the years, but Caleb is cool with me. More importantly, I don’t want anyone to know how distressed I am. “I’m not…obsessed with…”

“With Shorley? Then why have you been glaring at him on the dance floor?” His smug grin makes my shoulders tense. Caleb can see right through me, and he’s check-mated me into admitting what I don’t want to say.

“Unless it’s someone else that’s your…” He leans close to my shoulder and whispers, “Flame?”

I bristle and push him away with my wings. He laughs and saunters off. I’m grateful some glasses-wearing dude catches Caleb’s attention. He can go annoy someone else. I know that he’ll confront me about my feelings later.

But what feelings are there? As I gaze at Arie, I watch him move to the beat. He’s incredibly attractive, a true supermodel-type skinny guy. His curly hair is pristine, and the way that white polo shirt hugs his snatched waist is sexy beyond measure. He’s shorter, but his sunshine personality lights up the room. His eyes are bright, too, almost completely white. Without shades, a walking stick, or his weird bird, one might not notice he’s blind.

And he’s swaying a lot. How many beers has he had? Maybe he’s had too much? What if Shorley doesn’t realize he has a disability, or that he has certain needs?

What if he gets taken advantage of?

Arie sways again, and Shorley holds him up then whispers in his ear. My fists clench, and something inside me snaps. I bristle and stride forward. This ends now. I don’t need to be his boyfriend to protect him, I can do it as a friend.

I all but charge through the crowd of dancing undergrads. “Mind if I cut in?” I say it with enough force that Shorley notices it’s not actually a question.

“Mort, is that you?” Arie’s voice slurs, and I casually drape his arm over my shoulder.

“Dude, what?” Shorley asks. “This guy’s pretty far gone.”

“I know,” I say, leaning into Shorley’s ear. “He’s my friend. I promised to take care of him.”

“You have friends?” Shorley asks me, talking over the music. Fortunately, no one seems to be listening to us. Everyone else is dancing and laughing loudly, ignoring us.