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My roommates, ah my sweet roommates. One I’ve known since sophomore year, Meg. She’s a nursing major who’s from a tiny town about seventy miles away and we met in my one and only math class. She rushed Mu Gamma Phi a year ago and talked to me about them non-stop. She’s one of the main reasons why I rushed then pledged. She’s very quiet, clean and is always gung-ho to do anything and everything I suggest for fun.
Our other roommate, Lola, she’s a real piece of work. WhenMeg and I went to get an apartment together all they had left were three bedrooms. Since we couldn’t afford to get a three bedroom apartment and take on that extra rent we started putting out feelers for a third. Meg suggested that we ask someone in the sorority, so we did. Lola is very friendly, outgoing, and a total wild child. She was immediately interested in the third bedroom and we were thrilled—she always seems to be having a good time.
What we quickly found out is that she’s always having a good time most often until the wee hours of the morning. She’s also a slob who loves to spill kool-aid all over the kitchen floor, leaving it for us to find our feet sticking to the floor. The first week we were in our apartment I came home to find the door unlocked and a random guy laying on our couch. I screamed, he screamed and then Lola came rushing out of the shower explaining this was her friend who was crashing for a while. I promptly put a lock on my bedroom door as did Meg. She’s also a secret smoker. At least she goes outside for that.
I lay in bed, snug under my covers trying to decipher which of my roommates is in the living room. When I hear the laughter, I think it’s Meg so I throw the blanket off of me and slip on my fuzzy slippers. It’s freezing in here. We got a heating bill last month that caused us to eat ramen noodles for two weeks. Since then we’ve been regulating the heat. Turns out Lola was cranking it up to seventy-eight degrees when she was showering andforgettingto turn it off when she got out.
I pull on a sweatshirt over my pajama shirt and make my way into the living room. When I turn the corner I see Meg sitting up on the couch, balancing a plate of food on her lap. I glance at the television and see that she’s watching the newest episode ofPunk’d.
“Hey, I wondered when you were going to get up. I know today is your off day so I didn’t want to be the one to wake you.”
“Thanks. What time is it?” I don’t wait for her to tell me before glancing over at the clock on the stove: eleven thirty-three.
“I made some food if you want it, I put the leftovers in the microwave.”
“When do I ever pass up food?”
Meg laughs. “Anytime it has red sauce on it?”
True. I hate red sauce or anything spicy for that matter. I can mostly tolerate the red sauce in pizza but if I think about it for too long I gag. It’s just too acidic for me. I mosey over to the microwave and pull out the plate Meg made. There’s a couple strips of bacon on it and what looks to be a few lopsided pancakes. I place it back in the microwave and heat it up for thirty seconds. I take my plate and head over to the couch, sitting down beside Meg.
We sit and watch the show while we both eat, laughing at the crazy things Ashton does to his celebrity friends. When the show goes to commercial I start to think about last night and the party. “Where did you go off to last night? I couldn’t find you once I got into the frat house.”
Megs cheeks go slightly pink. “Justin and I bailed and went up to his room.”
“Ah, okay. Don’t feel bad about spending time with your boyfriend. You deserve to be happy.” They’ve been dating for over a year and while she’s very reserved when it comes to talking about their relationship, I know she’s hoping he’s her forever.
She puts her plate on the coffee table. “Yeah, he’s been really great so far. Anyways, we can talk about Justin anytime.” She waves her hand as if dismissing him. “What I want to know is did you have fun at your first real frat party?”
I make a face and cringe. “How do you stand the smell in there? The smoke and the beer—gag.” I pretend to shove my finger in my throat. “I don’t know, I didn’t see anyone that I wantedto hang out with and then I turned to leave and actually ran into someone I have several classes with.” I pause, debating whether or not to mention Brad. If I give Meg an inch or if she gets a whiff that I’m even remotely interested in a guy she’ll latch on to that idea and never stop talking about it.
“Oh yeah? Is he part of the fraternity or was he just there for the party?”
I weigh my options but decide to tell her the truth because it won’t give away the fact that I think he’s drop dead gorgeous and that if he’d have put those pillowy lips on mine I wouldn’t have objected. “Yeah, he’s actually in the frat. His name is Brad.”
She reaches for the remote and mutes the television. She crosses her legs and turns her entire body to face me now on the couch.Uh oh.
“Brad as in Brad Matthews?”
I nod my head. “I think that’s his last name. Like I said, we have a few classes together, so I don’t reallyknowhim.” I realize I’m starting to ramble so I shut my mouth.
She squints her eyes and wrinkles her nose up. “Yeah. Justin’s mentioned him a time or two but nothing too specific that I can remember. I know he doesn’t live at the house.”
“Yeah, he mentioned that last night.”
Her eyes and ears perk up at that one. “Oh, he did, did he? It sounds like you and Mr. Matthews were getting chummy. This is exciting news.”
I roll my eyes. “Down girl, down.” We both laugh at the idea of me and him. At least that’s why I’m laughing. “Besides, I think he was very drunk. I found him drinking and leaning against the wall. I was just trying to get out of there but we ended up talking for a minute. I was surprised he even really knew who I was.”
The look she gives me is one of admonishment. “Nikki, comeon. Give yourself more credit than that. You’re smart, funny and you’ve got a banging body. You literally had to compete against hundreds of girls to get where you are and while you’ve got major skills you know they judged half that on how you look in a twirling costume.”
I laugh because it’s true. Twirling is about skill but it’s still a female sport. The way you look matters and people get lower scores for not looking “right” all the time. They’ll tell you you’re being judged solely on performance but we aren’t stupid—you need to be in shape and you need to look good. It doesn’t help that most costumes are just glorified bathing suits with sparkles. “Yeah, I know but still.” I shrug my shoulders. “I just always assume that people like him have the perfect girlfriend and don’t give me a second thought. I figure he was just being friendly because he could see I was so uncomfortable.”
She scoffs. “Brad doesn’t placate anyone.” She gets up off the couch and takes both plates off the table and walks them over to the sink. “He also doesn’t have a girlfriend.”
Now it’s my turn to scoff. “Don’t start planning the wedding now. We had one short conversation and we have a few classes together. That’s all. We talked for five minutes max—he was friendly, I was friendly. That’s all it was.Honestly…”
“I don’t believe you for one second. I know you. You’re going to overanalyze and overthink that entire interaction. Have you already looked him up on that new website?”
