Alcohol sat heavy in the pit of Evan's stomach. He watched Brian light up, watched half-filled plastic cups overturn, watched beer spill on the rug, watched the cups crack underfoot. Most of all he watched Jenny Mather, tall and blonde and laughing. She wore a pink blouse, tight enough that the fabric stretched taut when she inhaled. He could see the outline of her bra and some little decorative bit between her breasts: a bow, maybe, or a little fabric flower.

His jeans were far too tight for comfort. Jenny's next laugh didn't help, not when her lips settled into an amused "o." Evan had heard what she could do with that mouth. He wasn't sure he believed the rumors, but he'd like to find out for himself.

He was indebted to Jenny's friend Becca, the one who'd made her laugh. That seemed to be Becca's role; Jenny always giggled at her jokes in Psych. Evan thrust a hand in his pocket, fingering the plastic bubble pack. Ron swore it would be the best four bucks he ever spent.

Jenny laughed again and spilled her beer. That was his cue. Evan tossed back the rest of his drink and got a fresh beer.  His palm was slick against the plastic cup as he added the pill from his pocket.

He wove his way through the crowd. Brian noticed his trajectory and gave him an encouraging punch on the arm. His aim was off and it wasn't a forceful blow to begin with, so Evan managed to keep the beer from sloshing too much. "Want some?" Brian asked, gesturing awkwardly with his joint.

"Thanks. No." Evan extricated himself and made his way to Jenny and Becca. "Here you go," he said to Jenny, and belatedly wished he'd brought a fresh beer for Becca, too. She was almost out and he didn't want her to get offended and leave, and maybe drag Jenny with her. Fortunately, Becca's goofy smile indicated intoxication, though her coordination was better than Jenny's.

"You sit behind me in Creepy Crenshaw's class, right?"

"Yeah." The lectures were the highlight of Evan's Monday, Wednesday and Friday--or however many of those days Jenny opted to show up for class. He hadn't realized she'd noticed him. "What did the pigeons ever do to him?"

Jenny laughed--at a joke he'd made--and took a sip of beer. She didn't grimace or spit it out or yell at him.

Becca apparently thought it was the funniest thing she'd ever heard. Evan grinned. A half hour, Ron had said, give or take. He moved off, a little nervous. Jenny was gorgeous and had probably caught the eye of the other guys in the room, who might also have heard what she could do with her mouth. But Evan didn't think he could make thirty minutes' worth of conversation and hanging around might look suspicious. Taking a chance that some other guy might swoop in seemed a reasonable risk. He'd only be out four dollars and a bit of disappointment.

He kept his eye on Jenny, watched as her coordination continued to deteriorate. The rest of the partiers annoyed him, loud and obnoxious and constantly disrupting his line of sight. When Jenny tripped over a chair, he took it as his next cue. Becca had helped her halfway up by the time Evan made it across the room.

"Whoa." Jenny blinked hard.

Becca laughed. "You are so far gone, girl."

"How about if I take her home," Evan suggested. Becca shrugged. She was drunk, but looked like she could keep going for a while. "You can stay here."

"Have fun," Jenny said, sagging in Evan's grip. He steered her toward the door. Despite her slender figure, she was surprisingly heavy and unwieldy as hell. Her attempts to walk were less than helpful, but he got her out the front door.

"Nice night, huh?" he said, and brought her around to the side of the house. "Gorgeous moon, all those stars." He propped her against the wall while he unlocked the basement door.

"Where're we going?"

"Someplace private." Evan hauled her inside. He shoved the door shut with some difficulty: it was old and had a tendency to stick, but nobody had ever bothered to fix it. He flipped on the light, a naked bulb that revealed piles of junk. Old furniture, bikes, broken TVs, boxes of books: the excess crap of current and former residents.

He angled Jenny toward a sofa. It was the color of rust, where it wasn't stained by coffee, beer or semen, and the most comfortable piece of rejected furniture in the room. He settled Jenny on the center cushion; she promptly keeled over. Evan spent a moment rearranging her limbs, eliciting a charming moan.

Now that the moment was here he could barely breathe. He brushed the hair away from her face. She looked so young, despite the makeup. A bit of pink lipstick had smeared on her front tooth; for some reason he found that erotic. Evan peeled her shirt up, staring at her breasts and solving the mystery: a little bow adorned the bra, a creamier pink than her shirt.

He had hours. Plenty of time to get Jenny back to her house before anyone thought to wonder where she'd gone.

Jenny. His goddess of Monday, Wednesday and Friday. Maybe he'd start speaking up in Psych, see if a few wiseass comments won him points with her. Professor Crenshaw wouldn't be amused, but any hits to his GPA would be worth it, if he could make Jenny laugh.

He shoved her skirt up and pulled down her panties. Another mystery solved: her pubic hair was several shades darker than blonde. Evan didn't care about dye any more than he'd have cared if her breasts were fake. It was the final result that mattered.

Ron had said to be careful. Spoken as a true friend--and also as a dealer who didn't want legal problems. Ron would flip if he knew the situation: a party at Evan's house, in the basement for which only residents had a key....

It was almost enough to kill his erection. Almost.

Then Evan thought of Jenny's expression when she laughed, and wondered why he'd listened to Ron. She'd laughed at his joke...maybe because she'd been drunk, but she'd been conscious.

He pushed himself up off the couch and found a chair in the corner. No partiers disturbed his view of Jenny while he masturbated.

She'd laughed. She'd smiled at him. There was already a spark between them--he'd seen it upstairs. Fuck Ron, who didn't think he could get laid on his own merits. Ron had ulterior motives: four bucks a pop added up real fast. That was something he should've considered. But he was only out a few dollars, and a hit to his pride that only Ron knew about, and Ron wasn't likely to say anything.

Evan stood, feeling the beers, and planted a kiss on Jenny's forehead. She said something, soft and breathy, and he almost changed his mind. But then he thought of Ron, doubtless ready to consider him a regular customer. No, he'd wait. He'd wait, and do her while she was conscious. Hell, maybe more than once: she'd laughed tonight, so clearly she felt something positive about him. Then the rumors would spread, and he wouldn't have to worry about keeping quiet. What was the point of screwing Jenny Mather if he couldn't brag about it afterward? And this way that asshole Ron would know Evan wasn't a limp-dick.

That plan definitely sounded better than instant gratification, especially since an unconscious Jenny couldn't work miracles with her mouth.

He left her sleeping on the couch and grabbed another beer from inside. The party was still going strong. Brian and Becca shared the couch, passed the joint back and forth. Good for Brian.

Evan wandered around outside--screw campus security. It really was a beautiful night.

***

 Evan woke up in the rose garden and squeezed his eyes shut. Not much help for the hangover, but at least he wasn't blinded by the sun.

Sun....

He'd left Jenny in the basement. She might be awake by now. Even if she wasn't wondering what had happened, it was a good bet Becca was. Evan had a feeling that Becca's alcohol tolerance was high enough that she'd remember who'd promised to escort Jenny home.

After a few moments of panic, Evan forced himself to calm down. He hadn't done anything wrong. Even if Jenny got suspicious, nothing could be proved. Hell, even if he'd gone ahead with it, nothing could be proved. That was the point.

Crossing campus, Evan felt more and more secure about his position. If Brian had gotten lucky, Becca'd never made it home to notice Jenny's absence. Even if she had, it didn't look too bad. Jenny, drunk, had fallen asleep in the basement instead of her own bed. He'd slept in the rose garden, also drunk. Maybe he'd given Jenny the key to the basement; maybe she'd used somebody else's; maybe the door had been propped. Bottom line, nobody was going to ask too many questions, because there wasn't any reason.

But then the house came into view and thoughts of Jenny vanished. It was a burned out husk, its roof collapsed and structure blackened. Yellow tape surrounded the building, and a few small groups of onlookers peered at the wreckage. Evan felt sick.

He found Brian, the first time he'd ever seen Brian conscious before noon. "What happened?"

"Burned down."

Burned down. Evan wanted to shake him. "What was it?"

Eyes downcast, Brian shrugged. "Wiring?"

Or maybe a drunk idiot smoking.... The urge to shake Brian turned into an urge to beat the shit out of him. All his things were gone, just like that. Evan didn't even know where the hell he'd be sleeping.

"I worried," Brian said. "Thought you might've been inside, too."

Too? It dawned on him that the yellow tape and the squad car parked around the back belonged to the police, not the fire department.

"Jenny Mather was in the basement. They took her out a while ago. Sort of a surprise. Becca thought she went home."

Becca thought she went home. With him. Who had a key to the basement. Whose semen was in the corner, if not in Jenny--who was instead filled with Rohypnol.

And a body in the morgue was a very good reason for people to start asking questions.

Copyright(c) 2003 by Megan Powell