by Red Phoenix
I immediately turn to see a young man holding a leather whip. He bursts out laughing.
“Oh, hell, if you could have seen the look on your face just now…”
“What the hell!” I complain.
With a smirk on his face, he curls up his whip and places it on the desk. “My name is Brad. I’m your roomie for the year.”
Although he holds out his hand to me, I don’t make a move to shake it.
“Ah, come on…don’t be like that. I was just having a little fun.” He glances at the whip. “Myrtle didn’t mean any harm. She’s just a little thing with a loud bark.
“What kind of person brings a whip to college?” I demand.
He holds out his hand again. “I’ll tell ya just as soon as you take my hand and introduce yourself.”
I study him for a second, noting the gleam of amusement in his eye. I can tell by the honest look in his gaze that he’s not a dick, despite what just happened, so I shake his hand. “You can call me Davis.”
He shakes it back vigorously. “Shouldn’t you and I be on a first name basis since we’re going to be living together for the year?”
“No. I prefer to remain on a last name basis.”
He chuckles as he lets go of my hand. “Fine, you can call me Anderson, if you want, but I’m going to call you buddy since we’re roomies. Just seems natural where I’m from.”
“And where are you from?”
He breaks out in a huge smile as he picks up the whip again. “Myrtle and me are from Greeley, Colorado. Land of blue skies, and the great Rocky Mountains are our playground.”
“Can’t say I’ve ever heard of it, but I know of Denver. Flown through there once on my way to California.”
“Yep, we’re a little over an hour west of there.”
Staring at his miniature bullwhip, I ask, “I take it Greeley is a rural town?”
“You’d be mistaken to think that. It’s a modern city, but we definitely take pride in our country roots, and my pop still owns a ranch on the outskirts of it.”
I nod, staring at his leather whip. “Is that why you brought that?”
He smirks. “No. I brought it to impress the girls.”
I raise my eyebrow. “With that small thing?”
Before I can even react, he flicks the whip again, cracking it next to my ear. Even though I stand my ground, my heart races at the sound of it.
Anderson snorts. “Size doesn’t matter when you know how to use the equipment.”
My eyes naturally go to his crotch, thinking he must be compensating. But then I note the sizeable bulge in his pants—quite the opposite of what I was expecting.
He sets down his whip and points to the empty plate of brownies. “Just wanted to say thanks for those.”
My jaw drops. “You ate all of them?”
“Oh, heck no. My sisters devoured them in no time flat.”
“How many sisters do you have?”
“Would you believe me if I said eight?”
“Wow…” I can’t imagine what that must be like, having been raised an only child.
“Well, I don’t. I was joshing you. I have three, which is more than enough, I can assure you—but I adore each one, don’t get me wrong.” He looks down at the empty plate sadly. “Despite the fact they demolished the brownie plate your aunt so thoughtfully made for me.”
“Three girls ate all of those?” I ask in disbelief, knowing how many there were.
“To be honest, I had a few, as did Mom and Pop.”
“Your whole family came from Colorado to see you off?”
“Oh, heck, yeah. One for all, and all for one, in my family.”
I nod, even more grateful I wasn’t here when they all came barging in.
“So, where have you been? They stayed extra-long hoping to meet you.”
“Sorry. I’ve been at the library studying.”
“Why?” he laughed. “We have the whole school year to stick our noses in books.”
I cock my head, telling him in all seriousness, “Study is the only reason we’re here.”
He shakes his head, chuckling. “No, it is not the only reason.”
“Why are you here, then?”
“I want to experience everything college has to offer, including the incredible selection of girls on this campus.”
“So, you are telling me that you only came for the women?”
“Not just the women. I plan to do some partying, as well.”
I shift my feet, disappointed to discover my roommate and I are complete opposites.
He looks me over and grins, motioning to my collar. “I see you weren’t just studying at that library.”
I pull at my collar and notice a smudge of red lipstick. I can’t help but smile, thinking back on my encounter.
“You and I are more alike than you think,” Anderson insists.
“I won’t deny I enjoy the company of a woman, but I’m here for one sole purpose—to get my degree as quickly and efficiently as possible. Life is out there,” I say, pointing toward the window. “This…here…is just a means to an end.”
Anderson shakes his head. “You got it all wrong, buddy.”
“We’ll see,” I answer, knowing I’m not going to win the argument with him at this point.
He holds out his hand to me. “Let’s make a bet. At the end of this year, we’ll revisit this conversation and see if you’ve had a change of heart.”
I snort. “What’s in it for me?”
He shrugs. “What do you want?”
“If I haven’t changed my focus, you agree to take a class of my choosing during your sophomore year.”
He pulls his hand back. “Oh, hell, no!”
I smirk. “Then you’re admitting I’m right.”
He holds his hand back out, grinning. “I’ll take your bet, Davis. If you lose, you agree to get completely drunk and party with me for an entire weekend. No books allowed.”
I take his hand and shake firmly. “Hope you like Applied Calculus.”
Anderson throws his head back and laughs. “I hope you like getting shit-faced.”
Even though we are polar opposites, I like this guy. I can tell by the intensity of his gaze that Anderson is sharp. He just hasn’t realized his potential yet.
“So, Davis, you against drinking altogether?”
“No.”
“Good to hear,” he says with a wicked grin as he reaches under his bed and pulls out a storage trunk. Opening it, he digs under the clothes and produces a fine bottle of aged whiskey. I raise my eyebrow as he places it on his desk and reaches back in for the shot glasses. “My grandpa sent this along with me with strict instructions it only be used for solemn occasions.”
My own father used to share his love of wine with me. Being of Italian descent, he thought nothing of serving me a glass at formal meals, even when I was quite young. He always claimed a good wine enhanced a meal, and he didn’t want me to miss out on the flavors it produced.
So, as far as I’m concerned, drinking alcohol is purely a palate enhancer.
I watch as Anderson breaks the seal on the bottle and pours out two shots. Handing me a glass, he smiles as he holds up his. “This is to formally seal our bet.”
I knock my glass against his and down the unique, smoky flavor. It burns slightly, but this is a smooth, high-end whiskey that goes down easily.
“Ahh…” Anderson sighs in satisfaction after his first swallow. “Damn, my grandpa spoiled me with this one.”
I take another drink, nodding my head. “Exceptional.”
He glances at me and that charismatic smile returns. “I think you and I are going to have fun this year.”
I chuckle into my glass as I take the last sip and place it on the desk. “I hope you enjoy advanced math, Anderson. That’s what I see in your future.”
“Bwahaha…” he bellows as he lies down on his bed.
Anderson looks over at his mini-fridge, then his gaze moves to his TV and microwave o
ven before glancing at my sparse living space. “What’s up with the lack of furnishings? Your parents coming with the rest tomorrow?”
I have to keep my emotions in check, answering him in a casual voice, “I believe in simple living.”
“Oh, like a monk or something?”
I smile slightly. “Something like that.”
“You’re a strange one, Davis. Makes me want to meet those parents of yours.”
I cannot hide my frown. “My parents aren’t something I talk about—ever.”
“Gotcha.” He folds his arms, resting against the headboard again as he stares at my empty space. “How about siblings? Got any of those?”
I give him a sideways glance.
“Wow, you and I couldn’t come from more different backgrounds. You’re damn lucky I’m here.”
“How so?” I answer drolly.
“You’ve been living a sad little existence without me.”
I snort. “You don’t know anything about me, Anderson.”
He sits up and looks me in the eye. “Go ahead, then. Tell me everything.”
I shake my head, deciding to pull out my notebook to look at that damned equation again. It’s better I keep my distance and stick to my original plan.
Putting my earphones on, I ignore him as I delve back in, determined to conquer the math equation on my own terms.
I feel a tap on my shoulder and turn to look up at him as I lift my earphones from my ears. “What?”
He grins down at me. “I’m not the enemy, buddy.”
“I never said you were.”
“Look, you can trust me. Whatever you’re trying to hide from…I want you to know you’re safe with me. I’m loyal to a fault—at least, that’s what my mama claims.”
“I’ll keep that in mind,” I say as I slip my headphones back on.
It would be nice to have someone I could trust, but I can’t take that chance.
I glance over at the miniature bullwhip still sitting on his desk and smile to myself. While we may be polar opposites, I appreciate having an interesting roommate.
The Russian
My schedule begins with three classes every Monday. The first two focus on my interest in math, Applied Calculus and Financial Accounting, but the last is a science course. Although it has no practical application where my business degree is concerned, science is required for all underclassmen and I find biology fascinating.
Having tested out of the more rudimentary classes in high school, I’ve chosen Molecular Biology. Understanding life on a microscopic level should prove enlightening. When I enter the science classroom, I settle down in the second row of tables. It’s close enough to see and hear the professor clearly, but without being under her direct scrutiny.
As the class begins to fill up, I receive a few sideways glances. It’s obvious by my youthful appearance that I’m a freshmen, and this is a class designed for upperclassmen. I’m grateful they have no idea I’m actually younger than I look. While I take pride in my ability to move through my courses quickly, it was not easy enduring the judgments of my peers in high school because of my abilities.
A calm quiet settles over the room as the professor walks up to the front and the students prepare for the class to begin.
That’s when he enters the room like a whirlwind of energy.
All eyes turn toward the door. The room fills with a boisterous spurt of foreign words as a muscular kid with a shaven head finishes flirting with a group of college girls walking in the hallway.
Their excited giggles echo down the hall.
Our professor, however, is less than amused and stares him down silently.
He gives her a respectable nod and then surveys the room with piercing blue eyes. I note that the girls smile and turn their heads shyly. But, when our eyes meet, I hold his gaze.
For a moment, my heart rate increases for some unknown reason, but I quickly regain my composure. He grins at me before heading to the back of the class.
Our professor stares at him for several seconds before turning around and writing on the whiteboard.
I turn in my seat slightly so I can give the guy another once over, curious about which country he’s from. Having traveled around the world with my father as a boy, I’m familiar with a variety of languages, but I have only mastered a few.
Although I’m not familiar with his language, it sounds Slavic in origin to me. Based on his facial features, defined by a thinner, pronounced nose, a defined chin, and contoured lips, I narrow it down to him being Ukrainian or Russian.
He appears to ignore us all as he stares out the window, looking bored as Dr. Barr goes over the class syllabus, emphasizing the extensive lab work required.
I have zero issues with the additional lab work. I am looking forward to the thrill of discovery as I run tests on various microorganisms. With a quick glance around the room, I start assessing the other students to ensure I get an appropriate lab partner.
Before the first class session ends, Dr. Barr tells us to pick our partner for the semester. I start toward a scholarly looking upperclassman in the front. Unfortunately, before I can even take a step, the person sitting next to him chooses him. I gaze around the room and notice that people are quickly pairing up without giving me a second glance. It has to be my age, and I growl under my breath.
I feel a slap on the back, follow by an amused chuckle.
I turn around, watching his blue eyes glint with self-assuredness as he grabs my hand and shakes it vigorously. I have not agreed to be partners with this man, but a quick scan of the room verifies everyone else has chosen their partners.
“Comrade,” he states enthusiastically. The briny odor of pickles hovers around him, and I suspect he’s been drinking.
“Are you Russian?”
He points to his chest and says with a proud grin, “Da, Russian!”
“Do you speak English?”
He looks at me questioningly.
I know a few words in Russian, but my vocabulary is limited to only the basics for getting around in a foreign country, so I ask him the standard ‘Do you speak English’. “Ty govorish’ po-angliyski?”
He smiles as he proudly shakes his head no.
Great…
The small amount of Russian I know won’t work in an educational environment. I’m seriously fucked by having this guy as a lab partner and, based on by the shit-eating grin on his face, he agrees.
The other students start filing out of the classroom, letting Dr. Barr know whom they have partnered with as they leave. When the class has cleared out, she looks over at me. “Mr. Davis, am I correct in assuming you’ve chosen Mr. Durov as your partner?”
“I think choose is overstating it a bit.”
She turns her attention on Durov. “Are you satisfied with Mr. Davis as your lab partner this semester?”
He just answers her with a bemused smirk.
Dr. Barr turns back to me, stating matter-of-factly, “Fortunately, the language of science is not limited by dialect.” Her statement lets me know I have no choice in the matter.
Lucky me…
I follow Durov out of class and watch the reactions of the girls as he passes. It’s almost as if his aura is a physical presence they cannot ignore. Time and time again, as he walks by, the girls look up almost as if they can sense him.
I have never seen anything like it. Even though he may be useless as my biology partner, I look forward to studying him outside of class.
He disappears among the throng of students while I head off to my dorm room to decompress after the first day.
To my chagrin, as I get out my key to the room, I find a piece of tape covering the lock. Leaning closer, I can hear the faint giggles of a young woman just before she gasps, “Oh, Brad…”
I pull away, not wanting to hear any more. Anderson and I haven’t even had time to talk about having girls over, and he’s already sampling the freshmen inventory…I shake my head.
Hell, at this rate, he�
��ll be through a fair amount of them by Christmas.
I change direction and head to the library. The Los Angeles sky seems particularly blue and free of smog today. Appreciating the rarity of it, I stand outside in the sun for several minutes before heading into the building. As I enter, I notice a girl with long, blonde hair staring at me. The look is not flirtatious, but one of interest.
I don’t know the woman and it sets me on edge. Not wanting her to get any closer and possibly recognize me, I hurry inside to avoid further contact, finding refuge in a secluded section of the library.
To my relief, she does not follow me, leaving me to concentrate on my work.
Considering this is only my first day, I’m surprised by the amount of homework I’ve already been assigned. It appears my decision to start college a year earlier was an excellent one. There’s no chance of getting bored here, the way I did in high school.
I plan to start with accounting first, wanting to warm up to my calculus assignment. I have yet to figure out the equation I’ve been working on and hope something I learn today will help me solve it. I like how my two business classes complement each other, and I can see that playing out well this semester.
Biology, however…
I hope I don’t end up regretting the class. The last thing I want is to carry someone through an entire semester—I did that enough in high school. Still, I’m intrigued by that Russian.
However, if we are to have any hope of completing our labs, I’ll have to communicate effectively with him. With that in mind, I get up and search the language section. Finding a book on the rudiments of the Russian dialect, and one specifically written to teach English speakers Russian, I head to the checkout desk.
“I see you are taking Russian. Pretty ambitious,” the librarian comments. “Let me suggest one more book.” Her fingers dance on the keyboard as she looks up the book’s location and instructs me to wait. A few minutes later, she returns with an old book with a loose spine.
“I know it looks a little worse for wear, but it’s the best.”
I smile in gratitude. “Thank you.”
I see that blush again on her cheeks, the same color as on my first visit here. While it’s somewhat disconcerting, having a woman old enough to be my mother react so strongly to me, I can’t deny an attraction to her.
