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I fight the urge to squirm, my skin suddenly so hot and itchy under my leggings and t-shirt. It takes me a minute to realize that the ache in my cheeks is from smiling.
They’renice.They’re both so nice.
Thank god. I won the roommate lottery. And Meg can blast loud music in here and stumble in drunk late at night if she likes; she can borrow my stuff and leave her clothes on the floor. I don’t mind about any of those usual gripes, so long as the two of us can be friends.
Will Duke visit often?
WhereisMeg’s mom? Is she not in the picture?
Chewing on my lip, I dismiss that idea right away, because there’s no way a sane person could ever walk away from the man now sliding books onto Meg’s shelf. He works calmly, methodically, putting away Meg’s stuff while his daughter scans through the campus guidebook left on her desk.
“Ew,” she says to me, flicking through the pages. “Did you read the rule about no boys in our room?”
“Um. Yes.”
Duke glances back at me over his shoulder. I pluck at the cheap yellow bedspread I bought on sale at Walmart—and try not to catch fire under his probing gaze. Why is he staring at me like that? What is he thinking?
“So heteronormative,” Meg says with a sniff, closing the guidebook. “I could bone the whole cheerleading squad and not break any rules. Typical.”
“Please don’t.” Duke turns back to his work, sliding another book onto the shelf. “Or at least buy them dinner first.”
Meg smirks. “Don’t mind my dad, Clementine. He’s a fusty old romantic.”
My insides quiver.
And of course he is. This bearded giant with crinkly eyes and beautiful manners is my dream man. Bet he watches classic movies too, and cooks pasta from scratch. Bet when he takes a lady to dinner, he pulls out her chair for her and offers bites from his plate.
Seriously. Is he married or not?
This is killing me.
An hour later, Meg’s side of the room is a lot fuller than mine. It looks lived in and cozy, with colorful movie posters on the walls and books on the shelf, and a threadbare stuffed zebra slumped against her mound of pillows.
My side of the room looks like a monk lives here. Three old paperbacks and my journal slump on my shelf, and there’s a single flat pillow on my bed. No extra blankets or fluffy throws. If you opened my closet doors, you’d find it two-thirds empty.
Duke glances around the dorm room, and I watch him notice the difference between our sides. His mouth turns down at the corners, and his forehead crumples in dismay.
“I have more stuff,” I lie quickly, because I can’t stand this man’s pity. It’s so much nicer when he winks at me and teases his daughter. “I just haven’t unpacked it yet.”
“Oh. Good.” Duke smiles at me, so warm and sweet, and I pretend not to see Meg’s knowing look over by her bed. It’s an obvious lie: I only have one suitcase, after all, and it’s already pushed beneath my bed frame, but she’s kind enough not to call me out on it.
“Dinner,” she says loudly, clapping her hands together. My chin drops, and I pick at a loose thread on my leggings.
That came around so fast. And Duke probably won’t stick around much longer after that, will he? So this is it. Goodbye.
Will he visit again soon? Often, maybe? Will he chat to me when he does? I fiddle with that loose thread, my stomach twisted with longing, and I’ve barely known this man for an hour, but already I’m gonna miss him more than my own parents. He’s certainly shown more interest in me.
“Italian or Mexican?” Meg asks. There’s a long, awkward pause. “Clementine? Italian or Mexican?”
“Oh!” I sit up straighter, flushing with pleasure, because it never occurred to me that I’d be invited. When was the last time I ate dinner at a restaurant? A real one, without a drive-through attached?
Not that I’ll be picky. If Duke and Meg want fast food, I’m in. So in. It’ll be kinder on my bank balance, anyway.
“Um.” They’re both looking at me—Meg’s head cocked, Duke so patient. He pushes his big hands into his jeans pockets, like he’d happily wait hours for me to untwist my tongue. “I love both. You guys pick. Um, are you sure it’s okay for me to join?”
“Yes,” they both say in unison, and the family resemblance is strong in this moment. They’re both determined, shoulders braced like I might argue with them. Meg stares at me sternly, like she’s daring me to lie about having other plans, and Duke…
Duke raises an eyebrow. It’s a secret gesture just for me. My fingers tremble as I press my hands against my thighs.
