Isolation: Book One, Paradise

Reese

"Its fast," the little boy said, giggling.

Reese always needed advice on what to wear. It took him hours, constant musing over which shirt went well with which pants. Should I wear something dark? Black was rarely a bad choice. The only black shirts he brought were button downs, though. Button downs would show that he at least put thought into what he wore. Was that good though? Maybe it suggested he thought too much on it, made him look superficial. He did wear one at the Clam. Maybe a t-shirt instead. But what color? White always showed too much, he didn't like to wear it unless he had been working out lately. And he had not been working out lately. Maybe navy? Too plain. When he asked Amon for advice, he knew the guy had no idea how much he needed it.

"Nothing flashy," Amon said, flipping some of his wavy black hair out of his eyes. "Jeans, a nice shirt. Short sleeves, not long."

"Should I wear a button down," he asked, nervous. "Or too much"

"That's fine, just not the same one from the bar."

Read my mind. "Alright. How about my sigma alpha phi shirt?"

"Nah. You wore it. Besides, it could come off as being a try hard. It's better to let people introduce you as a brother, anyway. Catches them off guard," he gave a friendly smile.

Fuck. He's right, should have thought of that last night. I must have looked like a douche.

"Okay cool, thanks," he was feeling better. "I hate picking out clothes. You're a life saver, man."

"It's cool, man," he said, leaning his back against the railing again. "If it was any other girl we knew here, I'd tell you to wear something easy to get out of," he kept the smile from before.

"Oh," he smiled, but he felt a little uncomfortable at that. "Why? Most of them sluts," he laughed to make it sound half a joke, remembering the blond who kissed Amon on the cheek.

"Most? Try all of them."

"Not Alex though," he grinned. He never liked slutty girls. It was a big reason why he was still a virgin. He had hidden it well from his fraternity, but the older he got the more he thought people could tell just by looking at him. No one knew, except Gary. He had told him one night when he had way too much to drink. It was a sad display; he wondered if he cried, but he knew Gary would never tell him if he did or not. Most of the girls who were into him were sluts, but something about them made him feel gross. The idea that one or more of his brothers had been with a girl made him feel like touching her was giving up his privacy. The only girls he wanted to get with weren't into him. It bothered him at night, but he told himself he was just waiting for the right one. Not to marry, of course, but the notion had remained his only romantic ideal, and he had held onto it this far.

"No. Alex would never sleep with someone unless she had genuine feelings for him. Trust me. She's not that kind of girl. She might hang out with sluts, but we'd all be vile if we were judged by the people we hung out with."

I like this guy. 'Couldn't have said it better myself.

"That's awesome dude," he said, full of honest glee. "I really like her."

A fat guy bumped into him, his beer spilling on Reese's shoulder and chest. The man didn't notice. The disturbance made him realize just how crowded this part of the deck had become. He saw that people were hanging over the rail, phones in hand, taking pictures. A quick glance out to sea showed him why; the sun was setting, and when he squinted he thought he could see land really far away on the horizon line, and some little boats. No way we're near Australia. Guess it's an island.