“Hello,” I answered.
“Hey,” I heard Peter’s voice in the air around me and in the phone.
I looked up the flight of stairs to see Peter atop them.
“Sorry, I tried to call you, but he ran down there before I could get out of my car,” Peter reasoned. “It was just some kid dicking around.”
2 a.m. was almost here. Peter had talked me into continuing our search. It had turned potentially fruitful at just the right time.
I spotted a bearded guy who looked just a little too old to be hanging around the edge of campus who wasn’t wearing a Halloween costume. The fact he didn’t seem to really be talking to anyone also raised my wary and drew me towards him.
I strolled up, kept a safe, but interested distance and shot him a look he returned with a disinterested glance. He muttered something to himself and looked away.
I inched closer and shot him another look. He locked into this one, but it wasn’t the kind of look back I was hoping for.
He scowled at me and took heavy steps in my direction.
“What the fuck are you looking at fag?” He yelled.
“Oh shit,” I yelled back and started to stumble over myself. “It’s not what you think.”
“No, fuck you, I’m not a fag.”
Even considering the ridiculous circumstances, that word still lit a fire in me. The guy was big, quite a bit bigger than me and bulky, but I wasn’t scared of him.