Reese
11:04. My dorm was spotless. All my shit was picked up and neatly stowed in my half of the room. I even went down to the bookstore and purchased a stuffed Sharky, the school mascot, as a welcome gift and had it waiting on the bare mattress for her.
The thought of sharing my living space with someone had me oscillating between nervous and excited. I was an only child. I’d never lived with someone else my age before. Would she like me? Would I like her? How awkward was it going to be getting dressed and undressed in front of a stranger? What if I needed to fart? What if she brought a guy back to the room? Would we have to have a system—the whole sock on the doorknob thing?
Restless, I went to Sammy’s to get an early lunch before the crowds got too bad. Getting there was like trying to swim up a waterfall as thousands of students and their parents flooded the campus with suitcases and laptops and posters, their hopes and dreams and fears tucked between folded Rodner University t-shirts and fresh spiral notebooks. When I finally had my turkey-and-cranberry sub and requisite Cherry Coke Zero, I escaped to the center of campus, away from the craziness of the dorms, and found an empty bench shaded by an oak tree.
I checked my phone. No texts from Laird. A twinge of disappointment weighed me down, stealing some of my excitement over our date tonight. I’d just seen him two hours ago, and I’d see him again tonight. Did I really expect to hear from him in between? I shoved the phone aside and nibbled my sandwich. It didn’t taste as good as the one I’d eaten with him at his townhouse last week.
4:38. Still no roommate. Concerned, I tracked down Myrna, my resident adviser.
“Oh, Reese, I’d meant to find you earlier today. Yeah, your roommate isn’t coming. She switched schools last minute. I’d keep that quiet if I were you—if nobody realizes it, they might not fill the spot with anyone else and you’ll get a room to yourself!” She gave me an exaggerated wink and patted my shoulder. “Gotta run. A girl down the hall can’t figure out how to log onto the campus wi-fi and her world is crumbling as we speak.” With a swish of her long white-blond hair, she was gone and I was alone again, in a sea of girls who’d all been paired off by the housing gods.
I went back to my clean, empty room. I stared at Sharky, alone on the other bed. He looked sad by himself so I moved him to mine, tucked him under my blankets, his head nestled on my pillow.
No roommate. Huh.
And then I did a little dance, in the room I didn’t have to share with anyone at all.
I even farted out loud for good measure.
5:41. Even though it was a little early, I started getting ready for my date with Laird. Dinner at his place. And sex, presumably. Lots of sex. So much sex, he expected me to need the whole next morning to recover. I bit my lip. I wasn’t a virgin, but my experience level was more intermediate than expert, and I would bet Laird was a high scorer at this game.
Should I stretch? Prepare myself? I glanced at the pink four-blade razor in my shower caddy. Yeah, I needed to prepare. Forty minutes later, I was sleek as a seal, moisturized, blow-dried, and wrapped in a damp towel as I contemplated my closet.
What did one wear to be seduced? Would he expect skimpy lingerie? Would that seem slutty, or was that what he was anticipating? I eyed my bed. Sharky fixed me with his plastic gaze, absolutely no help to me in this situation. “Some roommate you are,” I told him. He grinned back at me, his white felt teeth on full display.
7:02. I hesitated outside Laird’s door, and smoothed my hands down the soft raspberry pink jersey dress I’d settled on. The sleeveless, scooped-neck design was casual, but the way it clung to my skin was anything but innocent. And the sheer black bra and thong set I wore beneath it revealed more than it concealed. We both knew what was going to happen tonight. Wearing full-coverage cotton seemed pointless.
7:04. Oscar barked on the other side of the door, but Laird hadn’t opened up yet. Feeling silly standing on his stoop, I tried to remember our conversation from earlier. He said seven, right?
No texts from him with a change of plans, so I sent him one, letting him know I was here. Maybe he’d had to run back out to the store. I peered around the parking lot. His black Wrangler was conspicuously absent.
7:12. I retreated to my car to consider my options. Plus, standing at his door that long probably looked suspicious to his neighbors, especially with Oscar still going crazy. I texted again.
7:31. I left.
7:56. I scrubbed off the last of the eyeliner I’d painstakingly rimmed my eyes with. What a fucking waste. Braless, with comfy cotton boyshorts, pajama pants, and a tank top on, I scooped up Sharky. This whole no roommate thing was going to work out just fine, considering I’d already thrown my discarded clothes onto the other bed.
Me and Sharky were about to get our Netflix binge on. Oh, and ice cream. I’d bought some ice cream on the way back. The good stuff that had a thousand calories in each tiny pint and was hand-churned by magical leprechauns with healing powers for situations just like this.
8:02. My phone buzzed.
Laird: Reese, I’m sorry. I’m just getting home and I didn’t realize it was so late.
Laird: I had a huge fight with my dad today and then I drove around to calm down and lost track of time.
Laird: I fucked up. I know I did.
Laird: Can I come see you? I can bring over steaks in 30 minutes?
I wavered. If there was one thing I understood, it was fighting with your parents.
But… he’d left me hanging with no word. I’d put on fucking eyeliner. And sexy underwear. And shaved everything. Everything. Yeah, his loss this time.
I took a selfie, framing the ice cream, Sharky, and a decent portion of the curve of my left breast in the shot just to emphasize what he’d missed out on, and sent it to him.
Me: You’ve been replaced tonight. Maybe we should slow down and try again another time.
And then I turned my phone off, ate the best ice cream of my life, and watched a whole season’s worth of Pitch while drooling over a bearded Mark-Paul Gosselaar. I didn’t think of Laird once.
Except later, I dreamt I had a threesome with both Mark-Paul and Laird and that we rounded all the bases and hit some homeruns.
I told you.
That ice cream was magical.