I try to ignore Dex dirty-dancing with Liz, but my eyes keep creeping back to him. The rest of the party is merely a blur of silhouettes at the edge of my vision. I watch him move his hips against hers, slowly, teasingly; his hand supporting her back, keeping her close. She laughs, looking flustered. I can tell that his teasing works, that she wants him. I can relate to that so much that I can’t even properly hate her right now.

“Avery,” someone says. “Earth to Avery?”

I tear my eyes away from the dancing couple and find Carl’s face inches from mine, his breath reeking of beer and tacos.

“What’s this music?” he says. “It’s not English.”

“It’s K-Pop,” I say.

“The fuck, man? Turn it off.” He wrinkles his nose. “You listen to this gay shit?”

“It’s not gay. It’s just pop music in a different language.”

“Have you seen those K-Pop boy bands? They look like girls, dude.” He grins. “You kinda do, too—is that why you like them?”

I can see all too clearly what direction his drunken thoughts are about to take. If I listen to gay music, what does it make me? Once he says that out loud, though, it’ll take an ugly confrontation to get the accusation cleared, so I can’t let him go there.

“I don’t look like a girl,” I say with dignity, “and I don’t listen to that music, either. It’s just some Spotify-generated playlist, okay? Not something I picked.”

“It usually picks songs based on what you like to listen to.” His annoying grin gets wider. “Are you secretly listening to pretty Chinese boys?”

“First off, they’re Korean,” I say, “and second, it was you who called them pretty, not me. That’s a bit of a gay thing to say, don’t you think?”

His leering expression freezes, then gradually morphs into a frown. “What did you say?”

There’s noise and laughter and music all around us, but I suddenly feel as if the dormitory and the common room were in another, safer universe, while I got thrown into a darker and scarier one.

“Nothing,” I say. “I’ll change the playlist.”

“What did you just say?”

“Nothing, man.”

“You called me gay?”

“Hey,” says another voice. I look up and find Dex leaning over me, his arm on my shoulder. “Is Carl giving you a hard time?” He looks up at Carl. “Why’re you bothering my neighbor?”

“He’s been playing gay-ass music,” Carl says.

“Really? I haven’t noticed. I’ve been dancing straight, if you know what I mean.” He gives Carl a wink and a smile that makes the goon’s face relax a bit. “Anyway, Avery—I’ll take over the playlist. Go grab something to eat. You need to grow some muscle if you plan to cross Carl.” He squeezes my shoulder briefly, then grabs the computer and starts scrolling through the playlists.

I get up from my chair, slide past Carl without making eye contact, and make my escape.

The kitchen adjacent to the common room is small and dark, the light bulb having died earlier in the evening. The air smells of pizza and spices. Multiple take-out boxes pile on the counter, a few more lie on the floor, most of them open and empty, some still containing a few untouched slices of the least popular kinds of pizza. I take one with olives and look it over. It’s already cold and hard and not in the least bit appetizing.

I move past the boxes and stand by the fridge, listening to the music that Dex picked. It booms loudly with total disregard for the late hour. Someone somewhere shrieks with laughter—it sounds like Liz. I close my eyes, savoring the moment of solitude. Being invited to parties thrown by the popular crowd is great, but it’s also a constant strain trying to fit in. These people would have never hung out with me if not for Dex.

“Anything edible left?”

I open my eyes and find Dex rummaging through the boxes. I raise my hand with the still untouched slice.

“You can have this if you want.”

“Cool, thanks.” He comes over and takes the slice, then pauses, looking at my face. “Hey, don’t let Carl get to you. He’s a jerk.”

“I know.”

“Just be careful what kind of music you pick next time. BTS, seriously? For this kind of crowd?”

“Yeah. A rookie mistake.”

“Don’t take it to heart.” He glances at the empty doorway, then quickly leans over and pecks me on the lips. His free hand slides casually down my back and squeezes my butt, a gesture so confident and possessive that my body reacts right away. His hands, his touch, and the smell of his cologne are so familiar that I instantly ache for more, but nothing can happen here. He must be really drunk to risk even this small sign of affection.

He’s already stepping back, his beautiful smile gleaming in the darkness. He winks at me, then bites on his pizza and turns away, heading for the exit. I remain by the fridge, grinning like an idiot.

He never dances with me, but sometimes, he does things that are even better.

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