“Did we lose Foggy?” Matt asks, his arm hooked in Marci’s. She’s doing an admirable job of guiding him through crowded hallways considering that she started drinking before he did and is wearing four-inch heels.
“He was weak,” Marci says, gravely. “I think he got eaten.”
“…by?”
“Theater girls,” she says.
“Oh, the candy apple shots,” Matt says. “Yeah, that makes sense.”
Marci’s dorm has an annual Halloween tradition of trick or treating in the form of shots. You go door to door until you’re too drunk to walk anymore. He vaguely remembers hearing Foggy singing a terrible duet with a very passionate drunk girl before he followed Marci to the next room.
“There’s a semi-unconscious sexy Joe Biden on the floor to your right, take a big step,” Marci says, dryly. “Want to go back and save him?”
“Joe?”
“Your boyfriend,” Marci says, laughing.
“Oh, suddenly he’s my boyfriend,” Matt says, tugging her arm a little. Foggy’s kind of Marci’s boyfriend, too, because college is weird and feelings are hard and, also, one time they all had sex in Marci’s twin bed and it was very good. They’ve never really talked about it since, but Matt wouldn’t mind if they did.
“He’s yours when there’s the possibility I’ll have to hear any songs from Wicked,” she says. “Come on, kid, we’ll hit one more room and then I’ll make sure you idiots get home safe.”
“You could spend the night, you know,” Matt says, because he’s drunk and Marci smells really good and he thinks he wants this.
“…you flirting with me, Murdock?” she asks, sounding surprisingly delighted.
“I might be,” he says. “One more shot and I’ll let you know.”
Marci’s laugh is sharp and loud and makes Matt grin.
“One more shot,” she agrees.
I WANNA WRITE MORE OF THIS, I THINK
TINY UNDERGRAD THREESOMES
oh my god, they were roommates 