Co-Ed(3)

He pressed his hand to my neck and swore. “Don’t lie to your new roommate. It’s rude.”

I slapped his hand away. “I thought you hated me because I have boobs.”

“Oh, I love boobs.” He grinned widely. “I just don’t want yours. I’m not into taller girls, or ones who happen to be my roommate when I specifically asked for a quiet athlete whose cleanliness was better than Steve’s.” He shrugged.

“Steve?”

“All Steves are dirty. Registrar should just know these things. Steve used to clip his toenails onto the floor — just sprinkled them around like fairy dust. And don’t even get me started on CrossFit Steve’s calluses and his joy in ripping them off and showing me just how big one chunk of skin could be. Oh right, and he typically did this before dinner. How else do you think I got the abs?”

I snorted out a laugh. “So, CrossFit Steve’s both your curse and your inspiration?”

I could have sworn his eye twitched before he gave his head a shake. “I can tell you’re one of the good ones. Don’t fall for it. Stay far, far, far away. In fact, you should move.” He eyed me up and down. “How do you feel about Siberia?”

I walked back to my bed. “I’m not moving to Siberia because I’m living in the same dorm with some weird co-eds who like to please women.”

“Women, men, plants… my grandma. They’ll do it all for a price, and often, together. Just… stay away.”

He moved back to his bed and pulled the duvet over his face. I heard a muffled sigh as he threw it back off his body and stared me down. “I mean it. The Pleasure Ponies are bad news.”

I burst out laughing. “Please tell me that’s their real name!”

He joined in. “Nah, that’s my nice nickname for them. The real company name is under Wingman, Inc.”

I stilled. “The matchmaking company that Facebook tried to buy out last year?”

He nodded. “Both gurus wanted to leave a legacy. Handpicked those three to work for them here at the University. When one graduates, another’s nominated, and let’s just put it this way… Those guys? Raking it in… no shame whatsoever.”

“But how? Why?”

He yawned. “Because we live in a world full of broken hearts, and everyone wants to be told the lie.”

I felt small. I wanted to crawl into my bed and cry a bit. “What lie?”

“That it’s not you. It’s them. That the world will give you better, that you’ll get your happily ever after, that life is like the movies — that we don’t live in a sea full of broken, fucked up hearts.”

We stopped talking after that.

I lay awake for two more hours wondering if he could see my insecurity, my pain.

And pondering how I was going to hide it from the ones who promised to fix it — for a price.





Chapter Two


Shawn

I woke up feeling like death, with my new bestie holding some weird-looking moisturizer over my head — more like, hovering it over me in hopes that the movement would take away my black circles. I slapped his hand away.

It just came back.

“Resistance is futile,” he quipped, pumping some into his smooth perfect-looking tan hands and trying to slap it on my face.

“Stop that!” I tried to move his hands away, but he was stronger than he looked. “Seriously, I haven’t even washed my face yet. What’s with you?”

He sighed as if he was disappointed in both me and life. “This is face wash — well, it’s a mask and a wash, but you look like hell, and I can’t have people knowing you’re my roommate if you leave in your current state. It will completely destroy my reputation. Plus, I feel sorry for your face — I really do. You look rough. Did you even sleep last night?”

I glared. Too many questions. Not enough coffee. “I’m not your project.”

He was silent for a moment then said, “You sure?” He reached for a mirror.

“Don’t,” I warned again, clenching my teeth.

He just shrugged. “I can’t have your dark circles on my conscience. I’ll get hives. Do you want me to get hives?”

“Is this a trick question?”

“Holy shit! You want me to break out in hives this close to the holidays? Unbelievable!” He looked up to the ceiling again. “Her feet smelled, all right? They were big, and they were smelly and cold. I don’t do cold!”

“Who you talking to, big fella?” I smirked.

He glared down at me then slapped the gunk into my hand. “Three minutes. Don’t wash until it feels itchy, follow with number three, then four, and then yes, you can moisturize.” He pointed to the sink. “They’re all labeled. I take it you know how to pump stuff into your hands?”

“You sure you’re into boobs?” I smiled and earned a pillow and the unicorn thrown in my direction.

“I model. It’s necessary, and no, that wasn’t an open-ended statement where you get to give me your opinion or ask questions. And in case you care, I had acne when I was a teen — and exactly one friend who I named Fred because he wasn’t actually real, and you can name your invisible friends anything.”

“Tell me you have friends now.”