“Allison...”
“What? Oh.” I force myself to look forlorn and try to hide that I actually find a degree of comfort in this turn of events. “I mean, it would have been nice to live with someone, I guess, but it’s all right. I’m sure this girl will have a unique year. So, good for her, right? Did you know that sea leopards are also called leopard seals? I like that name better.”
Simon tosses his hands in the air. “I didn’t.” He searches for something appropriate to say. “Look, I know you don’t like people, but that doesn’t mean you should be happy if—”
“If someone chose a year of living in a lab and then in the frozen tundra, studying a vicious and creepy animal, over living with me?”
He looks sad. “Yes. But it’s not as though she knew you and ... rejected you. She’s just following some dream of hers or whatnot.”
We sit without speaking, and eventually my butt hurts enough from the scratchy couch that I stand and walk the few steps to what would have been my roommate’s bedroom. I lean my head against the doorjamb and look at the floor. “I’m sorry that I don’t like people. I’m sorry that I look clearly relieved that I’ll be living alone.”
“It’s okay,” he replies gently. “I get it.”
“And I’m sorry I’m pessimistic.”
“I get that, too.”
“And I’m sorry...” I can’t find the words. “I’m just sorry. I think you made a mistake. A mistake withme.” This is the first time I say what I have been thinking for years. I’m not sure why it comes out now, but, generally speaking, I’m not sure of much.
From the corner of my eye, I see Simon rise from the chair and turn my way. Softly, but very assuredly, he says, “No. I definitely did not make a mistake with you.”
Because he knows me well enough, he doesn’t step toward me expecting an embrace or some other emotional or physical display. Simon gets a lot of credit for respecting my boundaries. He knows that connection is not my thing.
People are not my thing.
Trust is not my thing.
“What I also know for sure,” he continues, “is that you owe me lunch.”
So, we walk to the little Greek place a block from campus, and we order a crazy amount of food. I spend a lot of time stuffing my face and little time talking, but Simon manages to make our silence feel less uncomfortable than it should.
“I wonder what she’s like,” I murmur between bites. For a few seconds, I imagine having a typical college experience, complete with a bang-up, awesome roommate, with me actually welcoming that experience. My past two roommates and I made zero connection, unsurprisingly. I know that was my fault. “Maybe she was really cool. Maybe we would have been friends.”
Simon clears his throat. He knows I’m full of shit.
“But,” I continue factually, “leopard seals are obviously the love of her life, and since I find them terrifying, I suspect a friendship wouldn’t have worked out anyway. This is for the best.”
My head starts to hurt. I down my drink and then focus on filling and refilling my glass with the bottle of sparkling water.
“How much do you actually know about these animals?” Simon interrupts my obsessive water consumption. “I’ve barely heard of them.”
It takes only a minute for me to pull up a picture on my phone, and I stick the screen out in front of me. “Teeth. That animal has mini spears for teeth.”
Simon casts a look of defeat. “Okay. You’re right. That’s an unpleasant animal. She might not have made the best roommate.”
I sit back with immense satisfaction, my headache now subsiding.
CHAPTER 2
WE GET ONE
At nine o’clock at night, I’m in bed, smoothing down the crisp sheets, ensuring that the perfect fold resting on my chest holds its form. A small desk fan circulates enough air to keep me from suffocating on this hot night. Something about the sounds of students whooping it up and celebrating their return to campus makes my stomach knot up, so I don’t open the small window. The whir from the fan doesn’t quash the revelers’ drunken partying much, but it at least helps.
A sudden pounding on my door startles me, and it takes me a second to squelch my panic before I tentatively open the door.
“Allison! How was your summer? You coming to the dorm party upstairs?” A petite girl with a plastic cup stands before me. Her bleached hair spikes in dramatic chunks from her head and then lands just on her shoulders. I recognize her from a few of my classes last year. Becky? Bella? Brooke? Some kind ofBname. She catches herself when she notices my tank top and pajama bottoms. “Oh. I guess not,” she says.
I form a big smile. “Hey! It’s so good to see you. Oh my God! You look gorgeous! Check out that tan!” I manage to sound so overzealous that even I’m surprised at the squeal in my voice. “I’m seriously beat from all the end-of-summer parties.” I give a knowing look, trying to convey the idea that I’ve been engaged in such wild and scandalous activities over the past few weeks that I cannot possibly haul myself to one more social event. I pretend to yawn.
