Kick at the Darkness (2 page)

Adam sighed, and his tone softened. “I bet you were valedictorian, right? Smartest kid at your school? But Stanford isn’t high school. It can be a tough transition.”

His cheeks flushed again. No, he wasn’t valedictorian. He was salutatorian—a.k.a. second place, a.k.a.
loser
—thanks to Greg Mason’s record-breaking perfect fucking score on the calculus final. Like always, Parker came up short, and now he had a C-minus, and he didn’t have any friends out here, and he hated himself more than he ever had. He should be able to let this go.

“You’re going to have to work hard in every class. Even if you think it’s a Mickey Mouse course. I know it can be a real shock when things don’t come easily for the first time in your life.”

Parker lashed out. “I’ve always worked hard. I
am
working hard! All I do is study. The important stuff, anyway. I’m going to be a lawyer. What are you going to be?”

Adam’s face was impassive. “I’m getting my MFA in documentary filmmaking.”

“You’ll probably end up working for some crappy reality show,” Parker muttered. He was being a dick, but at the moment he didn’t care enough to bite his tongue.

Pushing back his chair, Adam stood. “If that’s all, I have things to do besides get attitude from a lazy freshman who expects everything handed to him on a silver platter.”

Parker jumped to his feet. “You don’t know me.”

“I know your type. I’ve met a thousand—” he picked up the paper and read the name on the front, “Parker Osbornes in my life.”

Snatching the paper back, Parker tried to think of something to say. He blurted, “I’m dropping this stupid class.”

Adam eyed him evenly. “Okay.” Then he started scrolling through his phone. After a few moments he glanced up. “Was there something else?”

Teeth gritted, Parker spun on his heel. Mortification warred with anger as he tore the paper in half and stuffed it in a garbage can on his way out of the building. He pulled out his phone to check the time and skipped into a jog with a muttered curse. His stats lecture started in two minutes and he was never going to make it on time. It wasn’t even noon, and he was so ready to go to bed and be done with this craptacular day.

He really should have gone to bed.

Instead, Parker was in an empty classroom sitting in a circle with a bunch of people who looked as if they should be smoking up and playing Hacky Sack at the Oval. He squirmed in his wooden chair, wondering if he could just get up and walk out in the middle of the lesbian’s story about her struggle to add vegan items to the cafeteria menu. He had nothing against lesbians or vegans (or lesbian vegans), but he clearly didn’t fit in with the LGBT student group. Activism wasn’t really his thing.

He’d spotted the flyer for the group meeting after his lecture, and had decided it was high time to stop feeling sorry for himself and to try making friends. Or take Jason’s advice and maybe pick up a hot guy.

Of course the only guy he could think about was Adam Hawkins. All day, Parker had replayed their encounter in his mind, devising witty comebacks and scathing putdowns. Not that he’d ever see Adam again, thank God. First thing tomorrow, he was dropping that class. He’d pick up another elective next semester, or in the summer if he had to.

“What do you think, Parker? It’s Parker, right?” The blonde girl who’d been speaking smiled encouragingly.

Shit
. “Um, I think it’s great. Sounds like a plan.”

A murmur buzzed around the circle, and a short Asian guy with a pierced eyebrow spoke up. “You think we should stage a sit-in until the school bans all meat and dairy products? Don’t you think that’s a bit extreme?”

He felt the heat of a dozen pairs of eyes. “Uh…it would get their attention, though. Then maybe they’d compromise?”

The blonde exclaimed, “Exactly!”

As everyone debated the merits of food-based activism, Parker eyed the cute guy sitting next to him. Reddish hair and green eyes, and a tight little body. The guy hadn’t said much of anything so far. Maybe he wasn’t digging it either? It was hard to tell. But he could be cool. He was definitely hot, at least.
I won’t meet anyone if I don’t try
.

Screwing up his courage, Parker leaned over and whispered, “Meat, I get, but no dairy? And no chocolate? Life isn’t worth living.”

The redhead glanced at him with an unreadable expression. “Chocolate is overrated.”

“Uh, yeah, of course.” Parker waved his hand. “I was just kidding.”

The guy smiled. Hmm. Wait, had he been kidding too? Everyone liked chocolate, right? Heart thumping, Parker whispered, “Want to go grab a coffee after this? We could live dangerously and have a latte with real milk.”

Please say yes. Please say yes
.

The redhead’s gaze swept up and down Parker, like a searchlight coming up empty. Parker wanted to puke as the guy pasted on a smile.

“That’s so sweet. But I’ve got a lot of studying to do after the meeting.” Then he turned back to the group. “Marjorie? Can we discuss that stunt Kappa Sigma pulled on the weekend at our cruelty-free bake sale? I think we should petition the administration…”

As they discussed something involving an unholy alliance of snickerdoodles and condoms, Parker wished the scuffed tile floor would open up and swallow him whole. Sadly, the floor was apparently vegan, because Parker remained right where he was, his face burning, sure that everyone knew he’d just been shot down.

He cursed himself for thinking it was a good idea to attend this meeting in the first place. Why did he need to officially meet other gay people? Maybe he should just pledge a frat and put his cocksucking skills to good use like he had in prep school. He didn’t need a
boyfriend
anyway.

But I want one.

Remembered shame flooded Parker, joining the fresh humiliation of being rejected by the redhead beside him. He’d only tried to kiss Greg Mason once, and he could still feel the hard tile floor of the shower, cold and wet as he’d landed on his ass, Greg staring down at him with a curled lip. “
Don’t be a little faggot
.”

The fact that he was eighteen and still had never properly kissed someone was so pathetic he could barely stand it. Sitting there in the circle of LGBT students who’d probably all kissed a dozen people, he felt like he had a neon sign blinking over his head.

Loser! Loser! Loser!

But what was the point of finding a boyfriend anyway? It’s not like he could ever really bring someone home. His parents tried their best—they really did—but the whole gay thing made them so awkward and uncomfortable. Not to mention he knew their rich pals at the country club would surely not approve. Parker wondered what his father would say if he dated an anti-establishment hippie type. The mere thought made him bark out a laugh.

Heads swiveled. “Is there something you wanted to share?” The blonde asked, her smile a little strained.

Before Parker could answer, a white guy with dreads interrupted, frowning at his smartphone. “Whoa. Did you guys see this? There are some crazy riots or something in New York.”

“What are they protesting?”

“Probably not meat and dairy, Abrah.”

“Is it Occupy Wall Street? I hope so. I heard they’re trying to make a comeback.”

“Dunno. Oh wait, it’s in DC too. Probably something about police brutality.”

As the group talked over each other, checking their phones, Parker slung his messenger bag over his head and made a beeline for the door. He escaped back to the quad and grabbed a sandwich (turkey and Havarti, thank you very much) on the way to his dorm. The common room was crowded with people watching CNN, but Parker didn’t care about whatever protest or riot or whatever-the-fuck was happening. He probably should, but he had way too much reading to do, especially after wasting time at that meeting.

Embarrassment flooded him again as he thought of the dismissive way the redhead had examined him. Then a voice echoed in his head—Adam Hawkins calling him a lazy freshman.

“I work hard at what matters. Ugh, he’s such an asshole,” Parker muttered as he kicked the door closed behind him.

“Who’s an asshole?”

“Jesus!” Parker’s heart skipped a beat. “Don’t do that.”

Grinning, Chris pulled a T-shirt over his shorn head. “Sorry, bro. Just came back to do some laundry.” He smelled his armpit. “Febreze is the best invention ever.”

“I’ve barely seen you since NSO.” New student orientation had been a week of mandatory activities designed to help frosh settle in and make friends. Parker had learned his way around, but totally failed to meet anyone he connected with. Chris was nice enough, but another pang of missing Jason and Jessica swelled in Parker. He cleared his throat. “How’s Michelle?”

“Spectacular. Seriously, her tits are just…” Chris raised his fingers to his mouth to kiss them. “Bellissimo. I’ve found the woman of my dreams.” He shrugged. “At least for now. Hey, her roommate’s pretty hot too. Wanna come back with me? I got some primo weed. We can hang out and play Call of Duty. I bet she’ll blow you by the end of the night.”

Parker chuckled. He could undoubtedly give Michelle’s roommate some pointers. “Nah. I’ve got a lot of reading to do. Econ test tomorrow already.” Maybe he should go hang with them, but he hadn’t had a chance to come out to Chris, and he had zero interest in weed. Sometimes Parker felt like he was eighteen going on forty-five. Partying and getting high had never really been fun for him.

“Cool. If you change your mind give me a buzz.” Chris raised his hand as he headed to the door.

Parker slapped Chris’s palm and flopped down on his bed. “Later.”

In the silence that followed, Parker found himself actually missing the near-constant
thump
-
thump
of the house music favored by the girl next door. Maybe she was watching the news in the lounge. The news channels always made such a big deal out of everything these days, and Parker didn’t see the point in getting worked up.

He stared at Chris’s empty bed. Jason had been his roommate all through high school at Westley, so it should have been nice to virtually have his own room at school for a change. It should have been freaking awesome.

But it wasn’t.

Parker pulled out his phone. No message from Jessica. He hit her number and waited while it rang, sighing as her voicemail clicked on.

“This is Jessica. Quick—leave a message before phones become completely obsolete.”

For a moment, Parker was frozen with indecision. Then he tapped the screen and ended the call. What would he say that didn’t sound ninety-nine percent pathetic?

“Okay, enough.” His voice was loud in the stillness of the room. “Time to get to work.”

After wolfing down his sandwich, he opened his textbooks. The dorm was quieter than usual, and he put his phone on airplane mode and lost himself in free trade theory. By eight o’clock his eyes drooped. He set his alarm for nine and stretched out for a power nap. He was drifting off when a girl’s piercing voice echoed in the hall.

“It’s happening in San Francisco!”

With a roll of his eyes, Parker put in his earplugs and curled toward the wall. He’d check the news later when there was actual information to report instead of just fear-mongering speculation. Let them protest corporate America or the police or whatever they were doing. He had his GPA to worry about.

It was ten-thirty by the time Parker dragged himself out of bed. He still wore his jeans and a T-shirt, and he zipped on a dark green hoodie before stuffing his feet into his sneakers. The fifteen-minute walk across campus to the coffee shop would wake him up, and sweet caffeine would keep him going all night. He needed to do better. He needed to ace this test. He
would
ace this test.

He popped in his earbuds and skirted around the people jammed into the dorm’s common room.

“Yo, Parker. Are you seeing this shit?” Mike from two rooms down—nice enough guy, but obsessed with sports—called out as Parker hurried by.

“Later, man. Need coffee.” Parker gave him a wave and turned on his music. They were probably watching the baseball game since the Oakland A’s were one win away from the playoffs, but he couldn’t let himself be distracted.