He wanted to go to the party. But he didn't want to want to go.

Before the break, before seemingly everybody had deserted town and campus, he had had this idea of what the week would look like. He would spend it alone except for the short conversations he would have with baristas and restaurant workers.

If he were to go to this frat party then this silence would be broken. This week would end up not being a true break like he had intended. Instead it would just be another week of socializing. With different kind of people of course. But social none the less.

The frat bros were alright. Nothing wrong with them. But they didn't make him feel as open as the intercultural aides. With the frat stars he had to always be on edge. His hair had to look neater, he had to stand straighter, and he had to drink a lot more. This is one thing he liked better about the people at the co-ops. You could spend the whole night nursing a single beer and nobody would pressure you. Someone might make a joke but it'd be harmless. At the 

frat

house you would be pressured to up your game. Someone might play Swimming Pools by 

Kendrick Lamar

 and start screaming "COME ON, PUSSY!"