by Lane Hart
“Yes,” she replies with a nod.
“Okay, I’ll go put in an order and let you know when it’s here,” I tell her.
“Thanks.”
I want to ask her more questions about herself, what she’s been up to for the past few years, but instead, I decide to leave her alone for now. While we wait for the pizza, I can get on Facebook and look her up to find some of the answers. Then, while we eat, maybe I can get her to open up a little, not just with me, but with Charlie and Ty too. They’re the ones she’ll be spending every day with while I’m in class. Or at least, I hope they will. I don’t want Skyler to end up sitting alone in my room, day in and day out, for eight weeks. If the guys make an effort, maybe they’ll even become friends with her. I’m guessing that she still doesn’t go out of her way to talk to new people. But here, living together, she’ll have to get to know the guys.
…
Thirty minutes later, and the pizza arrives, but I’m not able to find out any clues about Skyler’s life, other than where she goes to school.
“So, Sky, what are you studying at Pace?” I ask before biting into my second slice of pizza. The four of us are sitting at the dining table that we rarely use.
“Accounting.”
“Me too,” Charlie speaks up and says.
“Really?” Sky asks, her greenish-blue eyes lighting up with obvious interest in my roommate that I don’t care for. “I never would’ve guessed...”
“That I was smart?” Charlie says with a smirk, clearly teasing her.
“No. No, that’s not what I meant,” Sky says in a near panic since she doesn’t know he’s messing with her.
“Then what did you mean?” he asks.
“Nothing,” she says before taking a sip of water from her bottle.
“Come on, say it,” Charlie tells her, refusing to let her drop it.
“It’s just, you don’t look like the type of guy to study something so…boring.”
“Believe me,” he says. “It wasn’t my first choice.”
Brow furrowed in confusion, Skyler asks, “Then why are you studying it?”
“Because his father told him so,” Ty answers for Charlie. “And whatever Mr. Ross wants, Mr. Ross gets.”
“Pretty much,” Charlie says around his mouthful of pepperoni and cheese. He doesn’t disagree with the statement or try to defend it. It just is what it is.
Charlie’s father owns a billion-dollar Fortune 500 automotive parts company and insists that his only son and heir take it over once he graduates from his father’s alma mater. Did I mention that his father also played football at Freemont too? It’s like he thinks Charlie is his clone rather than his son who is capable of thinking for himself and making his own decisions.
Sensing the tension from the whole situation, Sky clears her throat and says, “So, Graham, what are you majoring in?”
“Communications, what else?” Ty speaks up for me as well. “Isn’t that what all the super-duper athletes who go pro study?”
“Is it really?” Sky asks.
“I guess,” I agree with a shrug of my shoulders. “The classes are easy, mostly about public speaking or whatever. The only thing easier is studying social media,” I point out since that’s Ty’s concentration.
“Hey, it’s a growing trend that makes decent money,” Ty declares.
“You’re really studying social media? That’s a major?” Skyler asks.
“It sure is. And I’m damn good at it too,” Ty says with a noticeable puff of his chest. “I’m gonna help big ass companies reach our generation and sell them their shit.”
“You should list that as the objective on your resume, verbatim,” Skyler says with a puff of laughter. “At least it sounds fun.”
“It is,” Ty agrees. “My senior project this year is handling the social media for the football team.”
“That’s cool,” she says with a smile.
“Yeah. While I’m sitting on the bench, I’ll be taking pictures and shit.”
“I just hope I get to be on the field,” I mutter.
“You will,” Skyler assures me. Her hazel eyes look so certain that I almost believe her. But I have a lot of work to do to make it happen.
“Tomorrow’s my last day of freedom for eight weeks,” I tell them. “We need to make it count.”
“Eat, play, win?” Ty suggests.
“Sounds good to me,” I agree when I give him a fist bump.
Chapter 7
Skyler
“Are you all set?” Graham asks from his bedroom doorway.
“Yeah, I think so,” I agree, still not comfortable with the idea of his big body being cramped up on the sofa.
“Okay, well, goodnight,” he says before he turns out the overhead light.
“Graham wait!” I call out. I can’t believe I’m about to ask him this.
“Yeah?” He flips the light on again.
“This is a big bed,” I point out.
“Yeah?”
“So why can’t we just both sleep in it? I mean, unless you don’t want to share?”
“I dunno,” he says, rubbing his hand over his cropped hair. “Are you sure you wouldn’t mind? Don’t volunteer if you’re gonna be miserable and all cramped. You’re my guest…”
“I don’t need much room. See?” I gesture to the rest of the bed that’s untouched.
“Yeah, but I’m sort of a sheet hog and bed hog,” he says with a grin that shows off his adorable dimples.
“Then we could put a pillow in the middle to make sure you stay on your side,” I suggest.
“That may work,” he admits, close to caving. “But a pillow won’t be long enough.”
“Right,” I mutter, out of ideas.
“Oh, I know!” Graham exclaims before he disappears. Since he left the light on, I assume he’s coming back. And he does, a few minutes later, with a long, blue foam pool noodle that I’ve seen in stores. “I think this may be long enough. And it’s soft.”
He goes around the other side of the bed, pulls the covers back, and then places the noodle in between the two pillows, starting at the headboard. It’s long enough that only about a foot is left uncovered at the foot of the mattress.
“That works,” I tell him.
“You sure you don’t mind?” he asks me again.
“No. I’ll sleep better if I know you’re not all smushed up downstairs, unable to get a good night’s rest before your classes.”
“Okay, then we’ll give it a try tonight,” Graham tells me. “And if you want to kick me out tomorrow night…”
“It’s your bed, so I’m not gonna kick you out,” I assure him.
Only an idiot would kick Graham Lawson out of her bed.
…
Charlie
“You want us to vacate your bed?” I ask Graham when he comes down the stairs. Ty and I are sitting on the sofa, sharing a bowl of popcorn and watching the new slasher film on Netflix. Our pool party guests have all gone home, so it’s just the two of us. Guess there wasn’t a wild enough chick for Ty to bang tonight.
“Nope. Just grabbing some water,” Graham replies. “I’m not sleeping down here.”
“Then where are you sleeping?” I ask.
“In my bed.”
“Then where is Skyler sleeping?” I question.
“In my bed,” he states again.
“You’re sleeping with her?” I exclaim in disbelief. “That’s a bad idea.” Turning to Ty, I say, “Tell him that’s a bad idea.”
“It’s a bad idea,” Ty agrees unenthusiastically before he crams another handful of popcorn in his mouth.
“It’s just sleeping. I’m not gonna do anything else with her,” Graham says, but I don’t believe him because he’s Graham Lawson and he’s a sexaholic.
“She may get the wrong idea,” I tell him, since it’s obvious that she has a crush on him and based on what Graham told us about her history, she’s pretty damn fragile.
“No, she won’t,” he assures me. “And be
sides, it’s really none of your business.”
But it feels like my business. Someone needs to stick up for the poor girl, so she doesn’t get her heart trampled on by the king of one-night stands. Most people wouldn’t drop all their summer plans at the drop of a dime to help out a guy they haven’t spoken to in years. Skyler came all the way up here, not just to help Graham but clearly because she has feelings for him. Feelings that he doesn’t reciprocate.
And yeah, maybe there’s a teeny tiny part of me that wants to be sharing the bed with Skyler. She doesn’t say much, but when she does, she’s funny and smart. The girl is shy and beautiful in an understated way, probably because she’s completely oblivious to her own intrigue. The sexy librarian glasses with the good girl braid that’s begging to be pulled is a killer combo, at least for me.
Also, I can sympathize with her about being a boring accounting major and wanting someone who doesn’t want her. Hell, Graham probably does want her, but not in the way she deserves. He would only use her up and toss her aside like everyone else he’s slept with. I don’t think he’s ever been with the same woman for more than a week.
“You can have my room, and I’ll sleep on the couch,” I tell him. “Or she can have my room,” I offer when Graham comes back through from the kitchen with a bottle of water in each hand.
“No thanks, Charlie,” he says. “We have it all figured out. What’s your problem, anyway?” He lets out a huff before walking off, without waiting for a response.
“Dude, why don’t you just tell him that you’ve got the hots for her?” Ty asks me after he’s gone back up the stairs.
“Just because I don’t want him to screw her over doesn’t mean I have the hots for her,” I point out.
“If you say so,” he mutters with a knowing smirk that I want to kiss off his perfect face. I mean, smack off his perfect face.
I don’t know where those ridiculous thoughts keep coming from. No matter how hard I try to beat them down, they always seem to pop up again like a fucked-up version of Whack-A-Mole. In the game playing in my head, though, there are penises that randomly pop up at inopportune times, not cute little rodents.
What does it mean? I wish I knew. Clearly, I’m still very, very attracted to women, as made abundantly clear from the aforementioned sexy librarian with a braid made for tugging during doggy-style heterosexual fantasies. But then sometimes I get off to thinking about my best friend naked and balls deep, boning a girl on the other side of the wall we share. It’s not like I want Ty to fuck me or anything. And I don’t think I want to bend him over and fuck him either. It’s so damn confusing and frustrating.
I get equally aroused by seeing naked men and naked women alike. Both are sexy and have nice asses, which makes me think my dick is broken. Isn’t it supposed to pick one sex and stick to it? I swear it’s giving me whiplash the way it swings from one side to the other.
All I know is that I like having sex with women, but it always feels like something is missing. It reminds me of trying to put together an old puzzle that’s one piece short. You keep playing with it over and over again because it’s fun and you have most of the pieces, yet when you’re finished it’s unsatisfying, thanks to the one empty spot in the center. Without the final piece, you can’t tell what the entire picture is supposed to be. You’re unable to get the full effect.
It’s possible that I’m just a loser who has spent way too much time with puzzles. All I know is, I’m still searching for that damn missing piece.
Chapter 8
Tyson
“So, what’s the deal with you and Graham?” I ask Skyler the next day, when the two of us get a moment alone at our table in Dave & Buster’s while Charlie and Graham play a game of pool.
I can tell Charlie’s already strung out over the cute but odd girl, most likely because he hasn’t been with a woman in months. But before I let my best friend dive in and fuck everything up, I need to make sure the coast is clear, that no surprise sharks are lurking in the water.
“Um, what do you mean?” Skyler replies in confusion while her dainty fingers fidget with the paper straw wrapper.
“I get that you’re here to tutor him, help him endure summer session, yadda, yadda, yadda, but what I want to know is, did anything happen under the sheets last night?”
“Oh, my God,” she mutters while her lightly freckled cheeks and nose turns a deep shade of red. “Why are you…why would you ask me that?”
“Inquiring minds want to know,” I answer with a shrug of my shoulders. “Come on, you can tell me. I can keep a secret. Not everything I hear or see goes on social media.”
That gets a small smile out of the shy girl.
“No, nothing happened,” she admits. “Why would you think it would?”
“You’re into him, right? I mean, the big, red hearts are practically dancing in your eyes when you look at him.”
“Wow, it’s that bad?” Skyler asks, not bothering to deny it.
“It is,” I agree with a nod. “So, fill me in.”
“There’s nothing…it’s stupid,” she says, looking down at the paper wrapper between her fingers. “In my mind, I know that nothing will ever happen in a million years, but my heart doesn’t seem to be getting the message.” As soon as the words leave her mouth, her wide eyes pop up to mine before she blurts out, “Please don’t tell him!”
“You don’t think Graham already knows?” I ask.
“Well, I’m sure he knew how I felt when we were in high school. He was the only person I really talked to…”
“So, it’s possible that your admiration of him was born out of loneliness and not actual feelings?” I ask.
Skyler bites down on her bottom lip and considers that idea for a moment before she responds. “Maybe.”
“You don’t make friends easily?” I ask.
“No. Isn’t that obvious?” She pushes her glasses up higher on her nose, like they’re an explanation for why she doesn’t make friends. I think they’re pretty sexy myself.
“You’re a little shy and like to keep to yourself, right?”
“Yes,” she replies.
“But you’re lonely?”
“I…” She starts to say something, then pauses and lowers her beautiful blue eyes. Or maybe they’re dark green. It’s hard to tell, but they’re stunning, magnified by the glass lenses. “I’m not sure if I’ve ever not been lonely.”
Damn, that is really fucking sad. My heart aches for the girl, and I start to see why Charlie was so quick to start falling for her when he hasn’t been into any chicks in months. She’s different. I don’t know if it’s the sadness in her eyes, or the way she seems so shy and delicate, but whatever it is appeals to a protective instinct that I didn’t even know I possessed until now. Most of the girls I’ve dated on campus have been incredibly self-assured and pretty damn bossy, all things considered. Skyler reminds me of my ex-girlfriend, the one I fell for, who caught me off guard when she broke my heart before we went our separate ways. I didn’t see it coming from her because Amber was so sweet and kind. In the end, she was right though. The two of us would have never lasted through college.
But now, I’m about to start my senior year, and I’m tired of all the partying and casual dating. I want…more with someone who I can trust feels the same. And yeah, I may have a slew of friends, but Skyler isn’t the only one who is lonely.
“I know you just got here,” I say to Skyler before I stand up from my chair to go play the winner of Charlie and Graham’s game. “But I think you’ve already made at least two new friends.” With a wink and a grin, I add, “And your secrets are always safe with me.”
…
Skyler
Why? Why did I pour my guts out to a guy I have to share a house with for the next eight weeks?
Tyson just seemed so…nice and genuinely interested in talking to me. Before I knew what was happening, my mouth started spewing all sorts of things that I should’ve kept to myself. For whatever reason, I trust T
yson when he says he’ll keep my secrets. I’m already awkward enough without Graham knowing how much I still want him.
When my phone starts ringing from my purse, I know it’s going to be my father before I pull it out and look at the screen. And I’m glad to have a reason to step outside and talk to him while getting some fresh air.
“Hi, Dad,” I answer while I push my way out the front door to the sidewalk.
“Sky! Did you forget how to use the phone? I haven’t heard from you since yesterday.”
“I’m fine, so there was no reason to check in again,” I tell him.
“You’re fine?” he asks, like he doesn’t believe me. “Have you been taking your meds?”
“Yes,” I answer with a cringe. While I may only be on anti-depressants and anxiety pills, it’s not something I want everyone in the world to know about.
My father has never said as much, but the way he insists on my regular visits with a psychiatrist and is adamant that I don’t miss a dose of medicine, I think he worries that I inherited my mother’s mental illness. I’m stressed enough myself wondering if, when I’m twenty-five, I’ll suddenly hear voices and see things that aren’t there, just like she did.
“Do you still like it there or do you want to come home?” my dad asks.
“I like it here,” I assure him. “And I’m already making friends,” I add, smiling as I think about my recent conversation with Tyson. I really hope he wasn’t lying to me.
“Good,” my father says, and I can hear his heavy exhale of relief. “But I still want to hear from you every day to make sure you’re okay.”
“Fine,” I agree. “Can I just send a text sometimes? You’re gonna be busy with the restaurant, and I’m not a child. You don’t have to constantly check up on me.”
“Okay,” he agrees with another sigh. “Send me a text, and try to call every other day or so.”
