Settling into college life has been easier than expected. My roommate, Liza, and I clicked instantly, even though we’re opposite in almost every way. She’s outgoing and I’m shy. She’s an early riser and I’m a night owl. She loves to gossip, and I mind my own business. But we balance each other out and whether I’d like to admit it or not, she’s helped to bring me out of my shell. Basically, she’s the female version of Jesse.

In the past two months I’ve done more new things (hello, salsa dancing!), eaten different dishes (Korean and Indian in one week!) and have met more cute guys than I did my entire four years of high school. So, yeah, college isn’t exactly what I expected, but there’s way less homesickness than I anticipated.

Not surprisingly, Tod and I broke up the week after he moved into his dorm. I’d finally slept with him a week after the whole prom debacle (seriously, I should have run when I had the chance). I was completely underwhelmed with the whole experience. Truly, I didn’t understand what all the sex hype was about; the first time, it hurt like hell and lasted four minutes from start to finish. We’d done it a few more times that summer, but it never felt good, and I never orgasmed. To make matters worse, Tod didn’t seem to notice (or maybe he just didn’t care?) that I didn’t.

One night, after a few too many shots of Tequila Rose, I’d confided my lousy sex life to Liza. She assured me Tod was a douche and that most guys made sure a woman was ready (or, in her words, “wet and willing”) before sticking it in. In any event, I wasn’t very eager to do it again.

Jesse left two days after me, and as promised, we called and texted, not every day, but as much as our schedules would allow. He’s busy with classes and basketball practices. I’m busy with classes and well, studying.

It’s a quiet Wednesday afternoon, and I’m back at my dorm, trying to convince myself to study for my chemistry class, but am losing the battle hard because my Instagram feed is way more appealing. I’m sprawled on my bed half asleep when Jesse’s face lights up my screen.

I answer on the second ring. “Hello.”

“Hey.” He sounds a bit off.

“You okay?”

I can hear the tension crackle through the phone, but he simply says, “Yeah.”

Hesitating, I wait for him to say more, after all, he was the one who called me, but he remains silent. Something’s definitely up. After another awkward pause, I ask, “So, are you going to tell me what’s going on, or are we just going to listen to each other’s breathing like total creepers?”

“Option number two.”

I smack my lips together. “You got it.” I know Jesse well enough to know that he’ll tell me what’s bothering him when he’s ready.

Sure enough, after another minute or so, he sighs heavily. “Coach Sanders is being a dick.”

I sit up. Playing basketball means everything to Jesse. It’s unlike him to bad-mouth his coach. I keep my voice light. “What happened?”

“Nothing happened,” he snaps.

“Okay.” I resist the urge to snap back, but barely.

“It’s bullshit. I’m failing a few classes, and all of a sudden it’s some goddamn big deal. I’m a freshman. I’m having a good time. It’s what I’m supposed to do.”

“You’re failing your classes?”

“Not all of them…just three.”

Holy shit. I’d be panicking if I was failing one, let alone three. Still, I try to be optimistic. “It’s early. You have plenty of time to pull up your GPA.”

He scoffs. “Tell that to Coach Asswipe Sanders. He put me on fucking academic probation.”

“What?” My voice is shrill. “Jes, that’s serious.”

“And,” he continues, “I won’t be able to play unless I maintain a 3.0.”

“So, what happens now? You have to get a tutor or something?”

He huffs a breath. “I don’t know.”

“How can I help?” I hesitate before saying, “I worry about you.”

“It’s fine,” he says, and then adds, “It’s college. We’re supposed to party and have fun.”

I hesitate, not knowing how far to push. “Academic probation is one step above expulsion.” One teeny tiny step. “You could lose your scholarship.”

“Ry, I don’t need a lecture. Whatever you’re going to say, trust me—I’ve heard it.”

His clipped tone needles my nerves, and I retort, “Jesus, don’t be such an ass. All I’m saying is be careful.”

He expels a forceful breath. “Okay.” I hear a door click closed, and the noise in the background quiets. “You still coming next weekend?”

“Yeah,” I agree. “Are you gonna be in a better mood by then?”

“I’ll be just peachy.”

“Ass.” I scold. “Assuming all goes well, I should get there some time around eight. My afternoon class is over at four.”

“Cool.” I can hear the smile in his voice.

Just then Liza rushes into our room, mouth working a mile a minute. “God, Riley can you believe that—oh, sorry, I didn’t realize you were on the phone.”

I glance at her over my shoulder from where I lie on the bed. “It’s okay,” I tell her, then say to Jesse, “You’re gonna text me directions, right?”

“Yep.”

“Okay, I gotta go.”

“Okay.” He pauses for a fraction of a second. “And, Ry?”

“Yeah?”

“I can’t wait to see you.”

“Me, too. Good night, Jesse.”

“Night.”

Before I’ve officially ended the call, Liza pounces on my bed—literally, she jumps on the small twin mattress so hard that my body catches airtime.

“So, who’s Jesse?”

I roll my eyes because we’ve been over this before. “I told you, he’s my best friend from back home.”

Her eyes search my face at first and then slide to the neat row of picture frames stacked along the shelf above my bed. Her eyes dance over the familiar faces from my childhood and land on the final, solid black frame. It’s a snapshot of Jesse and me on the beach the day after prom. The day we ditched our dates and the rest of our friends.

Her grubby fingers snatch the frame and she nods. “Cute. Nice bod.” For some reason her comment rattles me. It’s not jealousy, per se, but I don’t like how she’s sizing him up. She’s obviously attracted to him. Would he be attracted to her? Why do I even care?

“You have a boyfriend,” I remind her, as I grab the frame back and align it with the rest.

“Doesn’t mean I’m blind.” She clicks her tongue. “Besides, I think you’ve got that market cornered.”

“What’s that supposed to mean?” I question, not in a bitchy way, but more of in an I’m-so-confused-right-now sort of way.

“Puh-lease.” She sashays across the room before sitting on her desk chair. She spins dramatically to face me. “You two have a thing.”

My mouth hangs open. “Yeah, I know, the best friend thing.” I enunciate the word friend just to prove my point, and then add, “I’ve known him since we were five. He’s like my brother.”

“So, you’ve never…?” She makes a crude gesture with her mouth and hand, mimicking a blowjob.

My face flames red. “What? No!” I grab the nearest pillow and throw it at her, even though my mind instantly darts to the kiss we shared in his bedroom many months ago. It felt like something, something more. Shaking my head to dismiss the thought, I ask, “What part of ‘we’re friends’ don’t you get?”

“You’re an absolute idiot if you don’t hit that. That boy is fine.”

“Whatever.” I open my laptop, swapping one torturous activity for another; time to review my chem notes. “We don’t think of each other that way.”

“Nope.” The “p” pops as she says the word. “Don’t buy it.” She gathers her shower caddy. “Boys and girls can’t be friends. At some point, someone always wants more.”

“Not us,” I say, more out of habit than actual agreement.

“Mark my words.” She grabs her robe off the peg near the door. “One day, I’ll happily say I told you so.”

I’m not sure how long I stare at the door after she’s gone, pondering her words. I’m used to people questioning our relationship. Hell, I endured enough jealous sneers and underhanded comments throughout high school from petty, stuck-up girls who tried to stake their claim. But for once, I wonder if Liza’s right. Maybe Jesse and I aren’t that different, after all. And if we aren’t, which one of us will fall first?