Hazed (Palm South University)

“Indeed.”

“Lots of skiing?”

“Too much,” I say. “I haven’t been this sore since I attempted ice hockey for Omega Chi.”

Erin laughs, but I can hear the way the sound has changed just in the few minutes we’ve been on the phone. It’s softer now, more dejected. I finally take a good look at her, her dark blonde hair pulled up into a high ponytail, her face makeup-free but beautiful, nonetheless. She looks cozy in her sweatpants and a t-shirt hanging off her shoulder.

“Well, I’ll let you get to it!” she says. “I hope you have a great night.”

“Wait.”

Erin looks to the side, tongue in cheek, and though she’s trying to hide it, I can tell she’s not okay.

“What’s going on, Ex?”

“Nothing,” she says on a sigh.

“Okay. Let’s pretend like I’ve asked you that a few times and now you’re finally ready to tell me what’s wrong.”

She smiles at that, but when her eyes meet mine, the smile fades. “I’m good. Really, I promise. I just… I was kind of needing a friend night and was going to see if you wanted to…” She waves her hand in the air. “I don’t know. Go somewhere. Do something.” When her hand falls again, she shakes her head. “But, silly me, I forgot it’s still Spring Break, so. Yeah. Anyway. I’ll see you when you get back.”

“Wait, Erin, don’t hang up.”

I sigh, resting my hand on top of my hat as I glance at the door to my room. I can already hear everyone gathering in the living room to head out, the sound of laughter and pregaming filling the air. And while I can feel that the part of me that was stressing earlier over it being my last night of Spring Break, the part reminding me to seize the day, there’s a louder, more pressing voice inside me saying not to let this girl hang up the phone.

“Can you hold for just a sec?”

Erin nods, and I put my phone on mute and leave it facing the ceiling long enough to jog down the hall to the balcony that overlooks the lower-level living room. I spot Skyler easy enough and wave her up the stairs.

“Everything okay?”

“Yeah, I just… I think I’m going to hang back tonight.”

Skyler frowns. “What? Why? It’s the last night!”

“I know, I know, I’m just…” Helplessly in love with your Big. “Hungover. And sore. I just want to chill.”

Skyler arches a brow. “Why do I feel like you’re having a ski bunny come over and you don’t plan on leaving your room?”

I plaster on my famous smirk and shrug in lieu of confirming or denying, which makes Skyler smile and shake her head.

“Use protection. And have fun. I’ll cover for you.”

“Thank you,” I say, and after a quick hug, I’m back in the room and staring at Erin’s beautiful face.

“I’m all yours.”

“What?!” Her eyes go wide. “Bear, no! It’s Spring Break. I’m fine, really, I’ll just—”

“Look, I’m hungover and sore, anyway. I didn’t even want to go out,” I lie. “Besides, I’d much rather hang out with you. Even if it’s just a FaceTime date.”

My throat goes dry at my last word, but thankfully, Erin doesn’t seem to read too much into it. She’s too busy fighting back tears on a smile.

“You really don’t mind?”

“I want to talk to you. I want to be here.”

Erin sinks farther into the couch, and it’s then that I see the glass of red wine in her hand. “You’re too good for me, Bear. Too good for this world.”

“Tell that to my ex-girlfriends.”

That earns me my first real, head-thrown-back signature Erin laugh, all light and bubbly and sweet like champagne.

I make it my goal to tally up at least ten of those bad boys by the night’s end.

Three hours later, I’ve got my phone plugged in and propped up on a mountain of luggage while I kick back against the bed frame, a half-empty bottle of whiskey at my side. Erin has already finished a bottle of red and opened a second, and both of us have got to have eight packs by now from the insane amount of laughter we’ve been doing.

So far, we’ve played five rounds of never have I ever, a couple rounds of charades, watched an episode of Drunk History together and Erin has given me a tour of her keepsakes box she keeps in her closet with old photos of her and other childhood memorabilia.

My favorite was a photo of her in eighth grade with braces and pigtails and overalls — the quintessential, adorable nerd.

“God, Bear,” Erin says, wiping tears from the corner of her eyes after our latest fit of laughter. “I can’t tell you how much I needed this.”

“Well, I’m glad I could help,” I reply. I take a sip of my whiskey, aiming for nonchalance when I ask, “You ever going to tell me what’s going on that has you in your feels, or is that to remain a mystery?”