Wednesday, August 31
(Kate)
I've been in Clayton and Pete's room for the past two hours. We all talked the first hour and then Clayton suggested, "Let's play Fatally Harm, Screw, Civil Union."
I look at Pete to see if he has any clue what Clayton's talking about, but he looks as confused as I am, and then it hits me. "Dude, I am not playing Kill, Fuck, Marry."
Clayton looks astonished I'd deny him. "It sounds so obnoxious when you say it like that. Why not?"
I roll my eyes. "I haven't played that since I was like fifteen."
Pete's still confused. "What's Kill, Fu—" He can't even say the word. He's definitely never played this game.
Now I'm smiling because Pete's innocence is too damn adorable. "Clayton," I shift my gaze to meet his eager eyes, "John, our dorm RA; Hector, the dude who works in the cafeteria; and Sugar, my roommate."
His smile fades. "For God's sake, Katherine, those options are horrific."
I smile and taunt, "You're the one who wanted to play. And Hector's not horrific. He's super nice."
"How do you even know he's nice?"
"I talk to him every night when I drop my dirty dishes off in the cafeteria washroom."
"What you two do isn't talking. It's a sad combination of Spanglish and charades."
"He's teaching me Spanish. I'm teaching him English," I defend.
He smirks. "What has he taught you?"
I laugh because I know I'm caught. Hector's English is extremely limited and what we do is closer to charades than a verbal conversation, but we give it our best effort. I puff up my chest. "I know 'Mi nombre es Kate' and 'Como estas' and 'gato.' And 'Ami no me gustan las zanahorias,' which means 'Carrots taste like shit.'"
Pete looks skeptical. "He taught you how to say, 'Carrots taste like...crap?'"
I wave my hand dismissively. "It probably means 'I don't like carrots,' but I prefer 'Carrots taste like shit.' Because they do." I eyeball Clayton, who's now squirming. "Back to the game Clay: John, mi amigo Hector, and Sugar. Break it down."
Pete still hasn't caught on.
Clayton sighs. "Fatally harm has to be Sugar, because I can't work with her any other way." He pauses. "The other two are making me nauseous."
"Play your cards, dude."
He covers his eyes, and I glance and see the recognition registering in Pete's eyes. His cheeks are the distinct shade of utterly embarrassed. Clayton sputters, "Screw John because he's just too mean to spend the rest of my life with and Civil Union Hector, even though I don't speak a word of Spanish, and his hair net, baggy, acid-wash jeans, and white, clunky, old-man sneakers are atrocious." He can't get the words out quickly enough and crosses his arms over his chest in a pouty gesture. "I'm done playing."
I clap and laugh at the disgusted look on his face. "That was classic, Clayton." Pete looks uncomfortable as hell like he's afraid he's up next, so I switch gears. "Okay, new game."
I proceeded to make up a new game where one person comes up with a question and then we all have to go around the circle and answer it. I learned that Pete was born in Texas, but grew up in Omaha, Nebraska. His favorite food is rare steak with sautéed garlic and mushrooms, his favorite childhood toy was a microscope (is that a toy?), and he'd rather have his little toe cut off with hedge clippers than walk across campus naked. And Clayton's favorite book is Lord of the Rings, and he despises dogs—especially small ones. He competed in figure skating as a kid (I would have paid money to have seen that), and he would have no problem walking naked across campus as opposed to losing a toe, as long as he could wear thigh-high red socks and his black patent knee-high combat boots (I have to admit that's a statement I'd like to see).
After Pete went to sleep an hour ago, Clayton and I worked on homework. But now my eyes don't want to stay open anymore.
I close my European history book and whisper, "Clayton, you really know how to show a girl a good time, but I think I'd better retire. I'm beat."
"Okay, honey. I better get a little beauty sleep, too."
I throw my bag over my shoulder. "Night, Clayton."
"Good night, Katherine." He blows me a kiss from where he's sitting crisscross applesauce on the floor.
I blow a kiss back and shuffle across the hall. I notice the red ribbon tied to the doorknob but unfortunately, it doesn't signal a warning in my sleepy head until it's too late. It all happens so quickly. All I see are a tangle of legs and bare butt cheeks. And then the moans are interrupted by aggressive cursing.
"What the fuck?" Sugar yells. She's trying to scream at me, but she's breathless, clearly in the middle of a fairly aerobic session here. "Get the hell out of here, you bitch!"
The scene, and the red ribbon, finally registers. "Oh shit. Sorry, dude." I pull the door behind me quickly. My heart is racing. I'm wide awake now. I head down the hall and use the bathroom, where I splash some water on face and weigh my options. Should I wait her out, or should I sleep somewhere else? I head back down to Clayton's room and knock softly. The adrenaline rush has worn off, and I feel sleepy again. Clayton answers the door, already in his pajamas. They're burgundy silk.
"Did you forget something, Katherine?"
"No. Dude, first things first, when did you turn into Hugh Hefner? Those pajamas are fantastic."
He smiles and curtsies. "Thank you."
I motion with my thumb over my shoulder to my door. "Um, yeah, so Sugar's riding the baloney pony and I totally just walked in on them. Do you mind if I room with you tonight?"
He throws the door open. "Of course not, Katherine." He glances across the hall at my door. "Didn't you see the ribbon tied to the doorknob?"
I shake my head and whisper because I don't want to wake Pete. "I know, I know. I guess I was tired. I wasn't thinking. Besides, we never discussed the signal for don't interrupt me, I'm having wild monkey sex."
Clayton climbs in his twin bed and pulls the covers back. "Come on, Katherine. We're small, there's plenty of room."
"Oh no, Clayton, I'll just crash here on the floor."
He motions for me. "Nonsense, come on." He winks. "You're absolutely lovely, but you're not my type."
I smile and crawl in. "Thanks, Clayton. You're the best. Good night."
He kisses me on the cheek. "Good night, Katherine."
I've shared a bed with someone almost my entire life. I didn't realize until now, but I've kind of missed it. This is nice.