Daddies Brat

Leslie

The bar was on the other side of campus, a twenty-minute walk, but it was a nice night for a stroll. Some people complained that California didn’t have any seasons, but I personally loved having perfect weather year-round. When there weren’t wildfires, at least.

The bar, Forrester’s, was already crowded when we got there. We found two seats at a high-top table by the bar and flagged down the server. “I’ll have a Yuengling, the bigger size,” I said with a big smile. “And he’s paying for it.”

“Shocktop,” Avery ordered. When she walked away, he said, “Told you we wouldn’t get carded.”

“You were right.” When the drinks arrived, I said, “You’re making fun of my drink, but you ordered something that comes with fruit in it?”

“The orange enhances the flavor,” he replied. “You should try it.”

I snapped up the orange slice from his rim and bit into it. “You’re right, it does taste good. By itself.”

He playfully glared at me and sipped his beer. “Game’s just starting. We’re playing UCLA, who is favored by twenty points.” “I didn’t realize you were big into sports,” I said.

“Honestly, I’m not. But I care about The Triple-C. Especially when we go up against bigger schools.”

We watched the game and drank our beers. Even though Avery was a chill guy, I found myself somewhat nervous. Like this was a date. Which it almost certainly wasn’t since he had invited Riley and Harper first. Even still, I finished my first beer in about ten minutes.

“Damn,” Avery said while running a hand through his chestnut hair. “I need to catch up.”

“It’s not a race.”

“It’s college,” he replied after downing half his glass in one long pull. He flashed a wide grin. “When it comes to drinking, it’s always a race.”

“Riley said you prefer weed over alcohol,” I said when we ordered another round.

“If I’m at a bar, I’ll drink beer. Especially if a game is on. But usually, yeah, weed is my choice.”

“You’re not like the other stoners I’ve known,” I observed.

Avery frowned at me from above his beer glass. “Not sure how to take that.”

“The stoners I knew in high school never did anything. They weren’t athletes, they didn’t participate in clubs or activities. They got high before school, then again at lunch, and then smoked weed behind the gas station after school.”

“Sounds like most stoners I’ve known, too,” Avery replied.

“But you aren’t like that. You go for a jog every morning. You’re…” I gestured up and down his torso. “…athletic. You’re well-groomed. And you do well in school. It’s not what I expected.”

“Okay.”

“Okay?” I replied. “You don’t want to say anything?”

“Well, for starters, I don’t consider myself a stoner,” he said. “Sure, I get high sometimes, but I usually don’t like being totally baked.”

“Harper told me you take edibles every day,” I said, trying not to sound accusatory.

“A small amount, yeah.” He stared over at the bar television, but I got the feeling he wasn’t really watching the game. “I get anxiety. Like, really bad anxiety. Been that way since I was a teenager. Doctors prescribed me with all sorts of meds for it, but nothing works as well as pot. So I microdose. Every day, after I exercise, I put a few drops of THC oil in my smoothie. It’s not enough to get me high, but it makes the anxiety go away. It supplements my life. It doesn’t control it.”

“You have anxiety issues?” I asked.

“Why do you say it like that?”

“Because you’re… I don’t know. I can’t describe it.”

“Can’t?” he asked, arching a brown eyebrow. “Or don’t want to because you’ll be embarrassed? Because after the embarrassing event that happened in your room the other night, I would think you’re impervious to anything lesser.”

I took a deep breath and let it out slowly. “You’re a good-looking guy. You’re athletic. I haven’t known you long, but you seem to get along with everyone. When I picture a guy with anxiety issues, it’s pretty much the opposite of you.”

He leaned forward on the table. “So you think I’m good-looking?”

“I’m glad that was the one part you took away from that,” I said, rolling my eyes.

Avery chuckled. “No, I totally get what you mean. You’re not the first person to say that to me. Brains are weird.” He rapped his knuckles on his temple. “Some people are born with allergies, or bad vision. I was born with a brain that gets weirdly stressed out when I’m around other people. Thankfully, we live in a time when someone can buy Benadryl, or contact lenses…” He lowered his voice conspiratorially. “…or marijuana.”

“I never thought of it that way.”

“It’s too bad Riley gets drug tested by the NCAA,” he added. “After what happened in the spring, he could definitely use a little anxiety-reduction.”

I cocked my head. “What happened in the spring? Is it the reason he’s been acting weird the past week or two?”

“It’s definitely the reason. He doesn’t want to talk about it, but his coach…” Avery trailed off. “I really shouldn’t speak for him. He’s kind of sensitive about it. Ask him about it, if you ever get a chance.”

“I’ve tried,” I muttered, taking another sip of Yuengling. “When I bring it up, he tightens up more than a nun’s snatch.”

That made Avery bust out laughing. “Yep, that’s Riley all right.”

I had only intended to hang out for a beer or two, but I was having a good time with Avery. We ordered another round and talked about our majors for a while. He thought it was really cool that I wanted to be a shrink, and suggested that I put all of my future patients on microdoses of THC.

“The whole world would be a better place if people were stoned,” he insisted. “Drunk guys get into fights. Stoned guys are too lazy to get off the couch. There never would have been any world wars if the leaders just got baked together and hashed out their problems.”

“I’m surprised you’re majoring in accounting instead of history,” I said with a laugh.Exclusive © content by N(ô)ve/l/Drama.Org.

He flashed that easy grin of his again. “I like history, but accounting is my jam.”

“Accounting,” I said with a sigh. “Don’t take this the wrong way, but isn’t it… boring?”

“No way,” he said enthusiastically. “I’ve always been good with numbers. They just sort of work for me, if that makes sense. Like, I don’t have to think too hard about it. It’s still work, but it’s the kind I enjoy. It’s kind of meditative, too. It relaxes me. Same reason I go jogging every morning. It clears my mind. Most people leave work exhausted and run down. But when I’m doing accounting work, balancing books and itemizing expenses into specific categories, it doesn’t drain me at all.”

“Find something you love, and you’ll never work a day in your life,” I quoted. “Sounds like you’re lucky enough to have found that thing.”

He raised his glass. “Cheers to that.”

I realized I hadn’t thought about the incident from the other night since we got here. The awkwardness was totally gone. And it wasn’t just because I had forgotten about it. No, it had to do with Avery himself. He was a nice guy. He was shockingly easy to be around. Like we really were buddies just out having a beer. No expectations, no discomfort.

“Avery, babe!” someone by the bar suddenly squealed.

Avery’s face lit up. “What are you doing at a sports bar, Sophie? Looking for ball players to flirt with?”

The girl-I struggled to think of this walking Barbie Doll as a woman- came over and wrapped her arms around Avery’s neck like they were longlost lovers. She was wearing too much makeup, and the upper half of her tits were spilling out of her pink top like a beer that was overflowing with head. I hated her the moment I saw her.

“No ball players here,” Sophie said, looking around with a girlish pout. “Although I’ve seen you jogging past the sorority house every morning.” She tapped him on the chest.

A sorority girl. I should have known.

“Your house is one block over from ours,” Avery replied. “It’s tough not to run past it on the way to campus. This is my roommate, Leslie.”

He didn’t say anything factually incorrect. But the way he said roommate felt like he was trying to assure Sophie that I wasn’t a threat. I wasn’t someone he was on a date with. I was his roommate.

“Nice to meet you,” I said.

“You too,” she said with the most fake smile I had ever seen before. “Room for three?”

Avery glanced at me. “You cool if she joins us?”

“I don’t mind at all,” I said, even though I minded nothing more at that moment.

“Oops! Forgot my drink. And I forgot to pay,” she added. “Sometimes, when Rick is working, he gives Kappas drinks on the house. But no Rick tonight.” She gave another exaggerated pout, then practically skipped back to the bar.

Avery turned to me and anticipated my question. “She’s just a friend.”

“She looks like she wants to be more than that.” I glanced at my beer and wondered if I could chug it and leave before Sophie The Slutty Kappa returned.

“I think she’s always had a thing for me,” he admitted, glancing toward the bar. “I’ve never acted on it, though.”

Three beers was making me bolder than normal, so I asked, “Why not? She’s not unattractive.”

“That’s putting it lightly. She’s fucking hot,” he said with a laugh.

A knife of jealousy stabbed me in the chest.

“I’m not a fan of her personality,” he explained. “Some guys might like that ditsy sorority girl act, but it’s like nails on a chalkboard to me. That, and I sell her weed. And her entire sorority house. I don’t want to mess that up, even if I was into her. Although I’ve always wondered what if…”

She returned with her Smirnoff Ice before I could ask any more questions. I then spent the next ten minutes watching Sophie flirt with Avery, leaning into him affectionately and laughing at everything he said. Even when he didn’t make a joke. She was sitting in the high-top chair next to him, but she had a way of leaning on the table and twisting sideways to make sure her cleavage was in his line of sight at all times. And Avery’s eyes constantly flicked down at them.

I couldn’t blame him. I found myself staring at her giant volleyball tits too, and I hated this girl. But still.

Eventually, I finished my beer and decided I’d had enough of Sophie’s overt flirting. “I’m going to head home and get some studying done,” I said.

Avery looked surprised, and quickly pulled out his wallet. “Let me close out and I’ll walk back with you.”

“Aw, leaving so soon?” Sophie said to Avery-but not me. “But you just got here.”

I put a hand out. “I’ll be fine on my own. You should stay. Thanks for the drinks!”

I couldn’t muster any more fake politeness, so I hurried out of the bar without saying goodbye to Sophie.