Undergraduate Experiments: Sober

"Those pool tables have knuckles on the corners now, do they?" asks the doc, not fooled. If the place gets a bit more attention from the peelers, fair enough. I thank him; Rich is too withdrawn into himself to speak.

I splash out on a cab back to college. Rich doesn't need to be rattled and bumped on the bus. Least I can do, after he spent a couple hours working on my body, earlier.

"Come on, you. Time for bed." I steal someone's frozen peas for an ice pack, use some of his cushions to prop him up comfortably in bed, and leave water and drugs by him. "Right, there's you. And absolutely no alcohol with those, seriously."

"And you know this the hard way?" Good, he's recovering his usual arsiness.

"Learn from mistakes, boy. Like, maybe don't call a townie pool shark a cunt in front of all his mates?"

"He started it."

"Aye, did you not hear me just mention his half-dozen mates? Did ye come up the Lagan in a fuckin' bubble?" He doesn't comprehend, so I rephrase, "How fucking naive are you? First rule of life: don't pick fights you can't win. If in doubt, don't fucking pick fights!" Yeah, yeah, it took me a while to learn that, in my teens.

"Didn't..."

He's losing the will to argue, so I concede, "And we've both learnt why we don't play in townie pubs." Rich tries to insist on paying his share of the cab fares. "No, I'm flush this day and I know you're in your overdraft. Honest, I've got the cash! I applied for this college grant for overseas students, and got it."

"Since when are you an overseas student? I've seen your British passport."

"So? It's not like you can paddle across the Irish Sea." The truth dawns on him and he blushes. Good, the man's caught on. In the circs, though, I take pity and tell him, "College said the same thing, but there weren't many applicants. I hear they're changing the wording, making it for 'foreigners' only, from next year."

"Let me guess, you're still going to apply?"

"Of course." For the money, not because I care about political points. "Right, I'm gonna kip on your sofa, just in case." And it's now midnight.

In the morning, his bruising is spectacular, shades of purple and yellow and green across his face.

I polish off his rum to remove the edge from my nerves -- last night proved that a half-dozen shots is ideal for me to function -- and fetch him breakfast. He can move his jaw, but it's sore, so soft food like Weetabix is where it's at. His nose doesn't bleed when he removes the wadding, which is good.

I text Laura, who comes by. "What the fuck, Rich!"

"You should see the other guy," Richie deadpans. He raises an eyebrow at me in one of those wee smiles. "Adrian was great."

Laura gives me a huge hug, partly because Richie isn't a hugging guy even when he's not in pain. "Thanks for looking after him." And to Rich: You daft wazzock!"

I recall, it was a pleasant surprise the phrase wasn't directed at me, for once.

We had a good weekend, hanging out. I handed in my project, we invited friends over, we all lounged about reading, chatting, and everyone saying I did good. Somehow I didn't feel the need to drink much more -- not until the evening, anyhow.

Maybe I'm not a total waste of space, after all. It's a feeling I'll draw on in therapy, too many years later. Richie rates me, now, and he's hardly got time for anyone!

Richie also helped distract me, as we got towards Finals. As he says, he doesn't care if it's a man or woman sucking his cock, only that they're good at it.

Which I am. It helps reduce how much I drink, which means it's a doubly useful skill, worth honing. Turns out, I manage a First-class degree, thanks to him and the crew looking after me. Mainly him, not that I'm ever telling the smug fucker.

After graduation, Richie pushes off to America for a PhD; I stay for a fourth year to get my MEng. It's not all smooth sailing; once I finish my Master's and get a great job in London, I'm introduced to cocaine and more. But that's another story.

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An older, wiser Adrian stars in the series Smoking Hot, also Turkish Delight, and Steak And A Blow Job Day.

Richie is a year younger in the Educating Laura series, and about 8 years older in I Say Ass, You Say Arse: Again.