Five

Hunter was gone the next morning when I woke up at nine. So was Renee, but Darah was at the dining table eating a bowl of cereal.

“How was your night with the boy?”

“Fantastic,” I said, stretching my arms over my head and listening to my spine pop. I shuffled to the coffeepot and found that there was just enough for one more cup. I had no idea how long it had been sitting there, but I didn't care. Coffee only got really nasty if it was past four hours. I poured myself a cup and sat down with Darah. She looked about as bad as I felt.

“You're okay with him here, really?” she said.

“No, I'm really not.” I sipped the sweet elixir, wrapping my hand around my cup. “But what can I do?” I still hadn't told them about the bet, and Hunter hadn't either. I wasn't sure if I was going to go there. If housing could settle things, then they never had to know. I just hoped if housing found him another place, he would go quietly. I really had no idea what kind of a fight he would put up.

“Not much. Just give housing hell. I don't know what they were thinking.” She shook her head.

“And they didn't even notify us! It's just crazy. This damn school.” I got up and slammed two pieces of bread into the toaster. There was something else that was bothering me, but I wasn't going to tell Darah about it. Unless... maybe she had heard me last night. I glanced over my shoulder to find her watching me. Yup, she'd heard. “You probably heard me last night, didn't you?”

“The walls are like, paper, so yeah. I didn't want to bring it up unless you were uncomfortable. Do you want to talk about it?”

“Not really. I forgot to take my meds. Sorry if I kept you up.”

“It's no big deal; we were just worried about you. It’s been a while since you had one.”

“Renee woke up, too?”

Darah nodded. Great, just great.

“I'm really sorry.” It had only been twenty-four hours and I was already a bad roommate.

“Don't worry about it. Did Hunter wake up?”

“Yeah, he actually woke me up. He sleeps naked, by the way.”

She snorted milk through her nose and had a coughing fit before she could answer.

“You're kidding me,” she said, her eyes the size of dinner plates.

“I didn't see Hunter Jr., if that's what you're thinking. He didn't take his shorts off until he was under the covers. What a gentleman, right?”

“Listen, if he makes you uncomfortable, we can switch rooms. Although, we might have to pull Renee off him in the middle of the night.”

“He'd probably screw her. He seems like that kind of guy.” My toast popped up, and I spread some butter and drizzled some honey on it.

“Hey, I've gotta go to macro, but I'll see you later, okay? Let me know if you hear from housing.”

“Will do,” I said, saluting her and munching on my toast.

She grabbed her bag and for the first time since moving in, I had the place to myself. I should spend that time on skimming the first chapter in my textbook, but I wasn't that ambitious. Instead I plunked down on the sofa with a crappy reality show marathon and dazed out. I was just about to start getting ready when the door opened.

“Hey,” Hunter said, setting his messenger bag by the door. “You recovered from last night?”

“Yeah, I'm fine.”

“Sure you are.”

I was not going to put up with him today, so I went to get dressed and brush my teeth. He grabbed the remote and changed the channel. Of course.

“Don't you have class?” I asked.

“I don't have another until two fifteen. You?” He didn't take his eyes from the television.

“I have feminism in cinema at 11:15.”

“Sounds thrilling,” he said, finally settling on The History Channel. Looked like a marathon about Hitler.

“See you later,” I said and went to get ready. He didn't even say good-bye when I walked out the door a few minutes later. I'd never met someone who ran so hot and cold. He was worse than Maine weather, which changed with alarming frequency.

My walk down to class was relatively quiet. Our building was on the outer edge of campus, like a spoke on a wheel. UMaine centered on a grassy mall that had the library at one end and the memorial gym at the other. Most of the important buildings were near the mall, and the less important were behind them. The English building where I had my class was one of the less important and happened to be just down the hill from my dorm.

The class was relatively small, so it was easy to find Megan's flaming red hair. Women's studies was a small department, so everyone pretty much knew everyone else and took the same classes.

“Hey,” I said, sliding in the seat next to her and pulling the retractable desk up with a horrible grinding noise.

“We meet again,” she said. “How was move-in?”

“You wouldn't believe me if I told you.” We had a few minutes before class started, so I gave her the quick and very dirty version of the previous day.

“You are kidding,” she said, sitting back.

“I wish I were.”

“I didn't think housing could do that.”

“I know, right? No notice, nothing.”

We were interrupted by the arrival of our teacher, Jennie, who I'd had a previous class with. She was young, only about twenty-eight, and was so obsessed with movies, she made even the most boring topic interesting. She also wouldn't let us call her by her last name.

Class started with the usual handing out of syllabi and going over rules and policies. I tuned out most of it and let my mind wander. Of course it wandered to my most recent irritation. Hunter Zaccadelli.

There was something seriously wrong with Hunter. One minute he was talking about going to bed with me, the next he said he didn't want to have sex with me because he liked me, and then he was colder than a Maine winter. Maybe that was something I could bring up with housing. I'd had to turn my phone off during class, but couldn't wait to check it and see if I had a message. I also planned on stopping there after lunch, before my last class.

We finished early and Megan and I decided to get lunch at the Union. She went for a cheeseburger from the grill, and I got a tomato wrap filled with hummus and veggies. Somehow we found two empty seats and set everything down.

“So you need to give me some more details on this guy.”

“I don't really know much, actually. Except he's a douche and he's sleeping in my room.”

She covered her burger with ketchup and smashed the bun. “Is he cute?”

I had to think about my answer. There was no denying that Hunter was gorgeous. He had everything the typical female would want. Good body, perfect teeth, great hair, and everything (that I could see) in proportion. Given a personality transplant, I would have been seriously crushing on him. He also had this fabulous jawline. Not that I’d noticed.

“Oh, he's a hottie all right, but it's his personality that could use some help.”

“Still, better a good-looking jerk than an ugly nice guy.”

“What category is Jake in?”

“He's a little bit of both,” she said, munching a fry. “I like to think he combines the right amount hotness and niceness.”

Megan's boyfriend was a nice guy. It was just his friends that needed some work. They weren't jerks; they were just gross. Megan often walked into her bathroom to find one of them had forgotten to flush, another had left hair and floss on the sink, and another left hair in the shower drain. She only stayed for love, she said. I would have been out of there faster than you could say Clorox.

“Well, Hunter is all asshat.”

“But a good-looking one. You can overlook a lot if he's hot.”

“Trust me; it's not going to happen.”

I finished my wrap, and we went to chuck our trays, saying good-bye to Megan, who had calculus.

I had some time to kill before I had my next class and didn't want to walk all the way up the hill to our apartment, so I went to one of the computers in the Union and checked the jobs board. Last year I'd worked at one of the dining commons. It hadn't been horrible, and I'd made some good friends, but I'd had more than enough of chopping salads and making endless grilled cheese sandwiches. I wanted something new that might offer some intellectual stimulation. The library was my first choice.

I scrolled through the listings for student workers. Most of them were in the dining commons, but there was one that caught my eye for a library aide in the government publications department, whatever that was.

I clicked on the link and filled out the application, trying to make myself sound as academic and smart as possible. I clicked send and hoped I'd get a return email for an interview. I scrolled through the rest of the jobs, but nothing jumped out at me. I quickly checked my email for anything from housing. I had nothing on my phone. I'd checked at least twelve times.

I decided that housing hadn't gotten back to me, so I was going to them. Their office was on the third floor of the Union, so I took the stairs, composing myself before I walked into the office. The receptionist looked up when I walked in. There were two other students, a guy and a girl, waiting already. They both looked surly and unhappy, and the girl had clearly been crying.

“Can I help you?” the woman, said, looking up from her computer.

“Yeah, I'm having a housing issue and I really need to talk to someone right away. I called and left messages, but you weren't open yesterday.”

“Okay, let me check. You hold tight.”

She got to her feet and shuffled off to one of the offices, knocking softly on the door before going in. She closed the door so I couldn't hear what she said. Damn. I grabbed a hard candy from the jar and unwrapped it, earning glares from the other two people waiting. A few seconds later the secretary came back. I tried to judge from her face whether it was good or bad news.

“I've talked with Marissa, the head of housing, and she's aware of your situation. If you want to sit and wait, she'll be with you as soon as she can. These people were ahead of you, and it's first come, first served,” she said with a tight smile.

“Do you know how long it's going to be? I have class soon.”

“Would you like to set up an appointment?”

“When is the soonest you'd be able to do it?”

“Let me check,” she said with a barely audible sigh. I wasn't trying to be difficult. “This is a very busy week. Hmm...” She scrolled through her computer, her eyes looking for an empty space. “The earliest we can do it is Friday afternoon at two.”

“Friday?” Seriously? “Isn't there anyone else I can talk to?”

“Let me check Roger's schedule. He's the assistant director.” She scrolled again, and I crossed my fingers. Not that I believed in luck. “The earliest he can do is next Monday at four.”

Great, just great. I tried not to scream in frustration.

“Okay, I'll take Friday. What am I supposed to do before then?”

“You should contact your resident director and he can help you work through any issues you may have, okay?”

She wrote out my date on card and took my name, typing it slowly into the computer. Yeah, our resident director. I'd seen the guy all of once when I moved in. He'd introduced himself and gave some speech about how his door was always open. Yeah, I was going to go to some complete stranger with my problems. Not likely.

I thanked the woman and tried not to stomp out of the office. My phone buzzed, and I looked down to find a text from “Sexy Roommate.” I opened it, wondering what the hell.

Sitting in class, thinking about you. You thinking about me?

I had an idea who it was. More than an idea. I just didn't know when he'd gotten hold of my phone to put his number in.

Who is this?

The guy u slept with last night. One of them at least.

Bite me.

Saw u walking across campus today.

U stalking me now?

I was minding my own business and u crossed MY path. Who's stalking who now?

This is harassment. I'm going to report you.

Do whatever you want, Missy. You still haven't given me an answer on our bet.

Me kicking u in the nuts wasn't enough of an answer?

In most societies, a handshake usually symbolizes the making of a contract.

Whatever. I'm shutting my phone off.

I waited for a reply, but it didn't come. I shook my head and turned the phone off. I still had some time to kill before class, but nothing better to do so I went to get a good seat. Somehow I'd managed to weasel my way into human sexuality. It was the most popular class on campus, and most people couldn't get in until their senior year. Maybe I'd just gotten lucky. Haha.

The class was located in what people called DPC 100. The DPC stood for David P. Corbett Hall. It was the largest classroom on campus and could hold up to 350 people. It was this crazy dome shape, with the seats stacked like a 3D movie theater. It was always a thousand degrees in there from all the people, and you never knew if you were going to trip on a half-empty Starbucks cup.

Despite being nearly a half-hour early, there were already at least a hundred people in the room. I walked down the sloped side, trying not to trip and also trying to find a seat that wasn't close to anyone else. I liked my personal space, thank you very much.

Most of the seats on the outer edges were taken, but I found one near the front that had a buffer. The desk next to me was broken, so I was pretty sure no one else was going to sit there. I pulled out my e-reader so I could finish the story that had made me late driving up yesterday. It was the latest in a paranormal series I'd gotten addicted to this summer. I was fully engrossed when someone tapped me on the shoulder.

“Is this seat taken?”

I had to blink a few times before my brain registered that Hunter was standing next to me and he was asking if he could sit next to me.

“What are you doing here?”

“Learning about human sexuality. Isn't that what you're here for?”

I glanced down and then back up at him. Maybe he was a mirage. He smirked, clearly delighted.

Nope.

“You have got to be kidding me.”

“Granted, I don't have much to learn, but I figured I could use my knowledge and get an easy A.” He slid by me and took the seat with the broken desk, setting his bag down by my feet.

“You are not in this class.”

“I am. You want to see my schedule? I'll prove it.”

“Whatever,” I said, going back to my book and turning so that my back was as much toward him as I could make it in the small space.

“You know, if you ever want to practice any of the techniques we're going to discuss, I'd be happy to be your study partner,” he said in a low voice. For some reason, his quiet voice made the proposition even more seductive. Not that I fell for it.

“Screw you,” I said before I realized I'd walked right into that one.

“I'd like to.”

“I thought you didn't screw people you like.” I looked at him out of the corner of my eye. He stretched his arms over his head, his shirt riding up and showing just the tiniest bit of lean stomach. I snapped my eyes away quickly. It wasn’t like I hadn’t seen it the night before.

“For you, Missy, I'd make an exception.”

I glanced at my phone, but we still had at least fifteen more minutes until class started. The room was nearly full, and the chatter echoed in the acoustically tuned space.

“I was thinking about making dinner tonight. You in?”

What was wrong with him? Seriously, he had to be bipolar. Or he just really, really liked messing with me. Or maybe it was a little of both. I shouldn't respond.

“What are you making?”

“You tell me what you like and I'll make it.” His face was set in a smile, but it was different than his cocky smirk. This was more genuine. The smile you'd give a friend if you hadn't seen them in a while. Open, honest.

“You'd really make what I wanted?”

“Why not?”

There had to be a catch.

“You made me pay for a song, what do I have to do for dinner?”

“Sit next to me while we eat.”

“That's it?” That couldn't be it.

“That's it,” he said, opening his hands.

I narrowed my eyes, trying to root out the catch I knew was there. He just looked at me innocently, which made me want to laugh. I was interrupted by a teaching assistant shoving a stack of syllabi in my hands and telling me to pass them down. I took one and handed the stack to Hunter. Our hands brushed briefly, and I pulled away as fast as I could, grabbing my notebook and writing the date neatly in the corner.

Our teacher was a woman with gray hair, who wore a long purple, gauzy top and matching purple pants. She reminded me of someone who had been a hippie and had never really gotten over it. There were a lot of those at UMaine.

She called us to order as the TAs collected the last of the extra syllabi. There were four TAs for such a large class.

Marjorie, she introduced herself as, got her Powerpoint up and running, and took us through her extensive lesson plan, including her personal history and educational credentials, the papers she'd published and the degrees she held. For someone who looked airy fairy, she certainly had a lot of degrees and accolades. I'd heard nothing but amazing things from other people who had taken the class and I had to admit the subject matter interested me. How could it not? Sex was interesting.

“I'll bet you already cracked the textbook open and took copious notes.”

So sue me, I'd skimmed it before class. I was curious about how graphic the diagrams would be. Turned out pretty graphic.

“I'll bet you're going to rip the pages out and plaster them on the ceiling,” I whispered back as Marjorie walked back and forth, using one arm to gesture and the other to click through the Powerpoint slides.

“It's all up here,” he said, tapping his head.

I was facing forward, pretending to be engrossed in the slides. He grinned at me and pulled out a pen, tapping it on his knee one, two, three, four, five times before he paused and started again.

I stole the quickest of quick glances and noticed something else behind his left ear when he moved his head. Looked like another tattoo, but it was so small I couldn't tell what it was.

The girls behind me yapped the entire class, and I wanted to tell them to shut up, but didn't want to start anything. The room buzzed with the hum of chatter the entire hour and a half. Granted, it would have been impossible to keep that many college students quiet for that long.

Hunter was fidgety the entire class. Whether it was pen tapping or knee jiggling or stretching or twitching. He was like a five-year-old high on cotton candy. I hadn't noticed him twitching so much the day before, but maybe I just hadn't been paying attention. But I thought I would have seen him vibrating like he'd had twelve cups of coffee. It was very distracting.

“Are you on speed?” I whispered as Marjorie was going through the grading scale for our homework assignments.

“Huh?”

“Are you on speed? Your knee is going a mile a minute.”

“I'm fine,” he said, leaning over and putting his ankle on his jiggling knee.

He started pen tapping again, and I reached out so he'd stop. My hand connected with his. It was the first time I'd really touched him. My fingers closed over his fist and the tapping stopped. I removed my hand without looking at him.

“Thank you,” I said.

He didn't respond, but his hand stayed still the rest of the class. When it was time to leave, I was hoping he'd just get up and go, but that didn't happen, of course. He packed up his things slowly, as if he was waiting for me. I took my sweet time.

“Do you have another class, or is this it for you?”

“I'm done for the day,” I said, standing up.

He followed suit and walked behind me as we left the room. I hated the fact that he was behind me, because he had full view of my ass as I walked up the stairs. I half-expected him to grab it, but he didn't.

We walked side by side out into the bright sunshine. It was blinding after being in the dark lecture hall.

“Mind if I walk back with you? I don't have class again until four, so I figured I'd crash for a little while.”

“It's not like I can stop you. It's a free sidewalk,” I said, looking left and right before crossing the road. He walked beside me, shortening his stride so he could match my stubby legs.

“True, but if I ask it makes me seem like a nice person.”

“You're not a nice person,” I said.

He laughed. “You're right, I'm not.”

He shook his head as if it was the funniest thing ever. It wasn't, really. Most people wanted other people to like them so they tried and were overly nice. Hunter wasn't like that. He was what he was and didn't give a shit if people liked it or not. No matter how crazy he drove me, I had to admire that about him. Sometimes I cared too much what other people thought of me. It must have been freeing to go through life like that.

We didn't talk much as we walked. At first it was strange, but the more we walked, the easier it was. It was the longest I'd heard Hunter go without a sarcastic comment or sexual innuendo. It was kind of nice.

“So, about dinner,” he said when we walked into the apartment, “what do you want me to make?”

The room was quiet; the other girls must still have been at class.

“You're serious?”

“As a heart attack.”

I set my bag down and leaned on the counter. Okay, Hunter Zaccadelli, you could make me dinner.

“Stuffed French toast, sweet potato hash and strawberries and cream.”

“Breakfast for dinner? You rebel, you.”

I shrugged. “What can I say? I live on the edge. So, think you're up to the challenge, Z?” I said, using the ridiculous nickname the bouncer had used last night.

“Piece of cake. Or toast, in your case. I'll stuff your toast, baby.”

I rolled my eyes. Soon I would be desensitized to his comments, but I hadn't quite gotten there yet.

“Whatever. I'm going to take a shower. No, you can't come with me,” I said, cutting off whatever comment he was going to make.

“Anytime you change your mind, you know where to find me.”

Unfortunately, I did.