“I dabble. I’m hoping I can at least minor in it.”
“Ah, so you’re a philosophy major then?”
I snort. “Good one. No, I’m undecided.”
Jude’s nose shrivels. “Oh, you’re one ofthose.”
“A walking stereotype, I’m afraid.”
“Bummer. And here I was just starting to like you.”
Something in my chest lurches. Not an ideal moment to have heartburn, so I try to ignore it. “What about you?”
“I’m a sophomore,” Jude says after finishing off the last bit of their cookie. “Majoring?—”
“Wait,” I interrupt. “Can I guess?”
Jude’s eyes narrow, but they grin. “Sure. Go for it.”
“Business? No, English. Definitely English.”
“Final answer?”
“Hang on,” I stall, crossing one arm across my stomach and using my other hand to stroke my chin thoughtfully. “Psychology. It has to be psychology. You’ve been psychoanalyzing me since you walked in the door, which is no surprise, really. I’m an excellent specimen, ripe for diagnosis.”
Jude snickers. “Now, that last bit, I can agree with.”
“So, I’m right?”
“Nope,” Jude says, crossing their arms. “Any other guesses?”
“Damn. Don’t tell me it’s something super boring like accounting or economics.”
“No hints.”
“Ugh,” I groan. “Fine. One last guess.” I lean closer, crouching a little so that we’re eye-level. Jude doesn’t flinch—they only stare back challengingly, brow raised, and lips in a coy smirk. My chest does the weird little flutter thing again, and I wonder if I should be concerned. Finally, I snap my fingers and blurt it out: “Philosophy. That’s why you made the joke about it being for comedians. Only someone studying philosophy would make that joke. Boom. Final answer.”
Jude pulls their lips tight for a moment, then grins even wider. “Not even close, dude. I’m majoring in social work.”
I scoff, crossing my arms in frustration. “What? That’s basically psychology, isn’t it?”
“No, it’s very different,” Jude says. “It’s more closely tied to policy studies than psychology. A completely separate program with entirely different requirements.”
“Whatever,” I grumble. “I’m counting it.”
“I’d expect nothing less, Mr. Undeclared.”
“Uh oh,” Max interjects before I can think of a comeback. He steps into the kitchen with nervous eyes but maintains his wide smile. “What have I stumbled into? Picking fights with one of my new roommates already, Jude?”
Jude rolls their eyes, but there’s still a flicker of mischief in them that holds me captive. “I don’t think I’d call this a fight, but I can’t decide. If only I could find someone who could make a decision around here.”
My chest vibrates again. “I think it’s only a fight if we’re not having a good time, right?”
Jude snorts. “Oh, is that so?”
Max stares incredulously at us both for a moment, then his nose scrunches. “Eww, are you guys flirting?”
Fear shoots through my veins, and I instinctively take a step away from Jude. The last thing I want is for either of them to think that I’m some creepy guy trying to get into everyone’s pants. “Oh, no, no, it’s not?—”
