That evening, the six of us hang out. I thought it would be awkward and uncomfortable, but for some reason it isn’t. Juliet makes eggs in her usual way, leaving Simon in awe.

“What are you doing?” he asks when she scrambles the eggs with a fork and puts the bowl into the microwave.

“Making scrambled eggs.” She shrugs. Dylan, Tristan and I watch her do this every evening. She likes to have breakfast foods in the evening. It’s “one of the perks of being a grown up,” according to her.

“In the microwave?” Simon asks, clearly having trouble processing the entire concept.

“She does it all the time,” Dylan says, as if doing something insane all the time explains it.

“I had no idea you could do that.” Simon shakes his head. I notice that his English accent becomes more pronounced in times of shock or awe. It’s so adorable, it takes all of my strength not to leap over the couch and kiss him.

“Juliet’s an expert in microwave cooking,” Tristan explains. “She needs to write a book about it and teach the rest of us mere mortals.”

Simon shakes his head and laughs. “Oh my God, that’s blasphemous.”

“What?” I ask.

“Cooking in the microwave, of course! Or that it’s even considered cooking,” he laughs.

“I happen to think it’s pretty awesome,” Tristan says. We’re all joking around, making fun, but something about how Tristan says that changes the entire tone of the conversation. I can tell that everyone had noticed it.

“I know, me too. I didn’t mean anything by it, Juliet,” Simon says. She shrugs, clearly not caring. Juliet’s one of those people who let things that don’t matter slide. She’s sort of amazing like that. I admire her greatly for it, even though I often want to kill her for it as well. I mean, how does she go through life like that? Really?

The evening continues on without a hitch. Much better than I thought it would, honestly. Except that as times passes and I get more and more engulfed in my conversation with Juliet and Tea, I suddenly notice that Simon and Tristan seem to disagree on pretty much everything.

They disagree about the correct lyrics to Miley Cyrus’s “Wrecking Ball”. They look it up and Simon’s right.

They disagree on whether Christmas will fall on a weekday or a weekend this year. How or why that topic of conversation ever came up, I will never know! They look it up and Tristan’s right.

They disagree on who’s going to play in the Super Bowl this year. There’s no way to know yet. It’s only October.

After awhile, Tea gets annoyed that Tristan’s attention is entirely focused on Simon and takes off early. He waves goodbye to her without even bothering to get up or walk her to the door, and she leaves angry. Tristan can be very insensitive at times, and I’m glad that, for once, I’m not on the other end of that. Half an hour later, Simon takes off too, but not before he and Tristan get into a little tiff.

I’m not sure what brings it on because I’m in the middle of a very important conversation with Juliet about the proper way of removing glue from false lashes. But then I suddenly hear Tristan say, “You know, you don’t have to be such a dick about it.”

“About what? I’m just stating my opinion.”

“Oh, whatever. You know exactly what I’m talking about,” Tristan says and storms off into his room.

“What was that about?” I ask.

“Your roommate doesn’t like to hear the truth,” Simon says, clearly unfazed. He shrugs and gives me a little peck on the cheek. “I have to go.”

“I had a good time today,” Simon says while I wait for the elevator with him.

“Me too.”

“Can I see you again?” he asks.

“Yes, of course,” I say and lean up to kiss him.

* * *

When I get back to the room, Tristan’s pacing in the living room. He’s angry. Very angry. I’ve never seen him like that.

“Can I talk to you?” he asks. I nod. “In private?”

I follow him to his room. Suddenly, I realize that this is the first time I’ve ever been here. I look around. Almost every square inch of blank wall space is covered in posters. Girls in bikinis. Lakers and 49ers posters (clearly, Tristan’s). Yankees and Knicks posters (Dylan’s). The stereotypical John Belushi College poster, which seems to be a requirement for every college guy’s room. And then there’s the smell. No, not smell. But stench. The place smells of old burritos and sweat.

“Don’t you guys ever air this place out?” I ask.

“Sorry, we went to that candle store that you and Juliet love, but they said that you’ve cleaned them out,” he says without missing a beat.

“Haha, very funny,” I smile. It’s nice to banter with him again. I realize that it’s this banter that I’ve really missed over the last few months. It’s not even the kissing or the sex or touching. It’s the friendly banter. It feels like old times again. Long ago times. When we were friends and things were less complicated.

“So what did you want to talk about?” I ask.

“That guy. Simon,” Tristan says, elongating his name in an effort to mock him. It works. I roll my eyes.

“You want to talk about Simon?” I ask.

“Yes. What’s up with him?”

“Nothing.” I shrug. “I don’t know what you mean.”

“Are you seeing him or something?” Tristan asks.

“I don’t know. I guess. Today was our first date. Well, sort of,” I say. I suddenly catch myself. I don’t know why I’m telling him all this. It’s none of his business.

“Why do you care?” I ask.

“He moves fast, doesn’t he?” Tristan avoids my question.

“What are you talking about?”

Tristan starts to pace the room again. He’s no longer talking to me, but at me.

“Had his tongue down your throat already and then met your roommates,” he says, avoiding eye contact with me.

I’ve never seen Tristan like this. What the hell is going on? And then it hits me.

“Wait a second,” I say. “What’s going on here? Are you jealous? Really?”

I smile. I feel myself beaming. I try to stop smiling, but I can’t.

“No, I’m not jealous,” Tristan says quickly. A little too quickly to be believable.

He can deny it all he wants, but I see right through him. He is jealous.

“How can you be jealous? You have a girlfriend!” I say.

“Who, Tea? She’s not my girlfriend,” he says. I furrow my brows. Don’t believe him.

“Does she know that? Because from the looks of it, it seems like she is.”

He shakes his head. “No, she isn’t. We’re just hanging out. Seeing each other. But not exclusively. Nothing serious.”

I shake my head. I feel bad for Tea. I don’t think she sees it that way. “Well, in that case, you should talk to her. I’m not sure you’re on the same page.”

He looks right at me. “Don’t change the subject,” he says.

“From what?”

“From you.”

“I wasn’t.” I shrug.

“So, what, you like that guy? Simon?”

I think about it for a moment. I want to answer as truthfully as possible. That’s what friends do, right?

“Yes, I do.” I nod. “A lot.”

He rolls his eyes and shakes his head.

“And why is it you don’t like him?” I ask. Tristan doesn’t have a good reason.

“I just have a bad feeling about it, Alice,” he says. Now it’s my turn to roll my eyes.

“Tristan, you don’t have a bad feeling. You’re just jealous. But you’re going to have to get over it. Because we’re not together anymore,” I say and leave the room.