by Jami Wagner
“Are you trying to get a spot in that program?” Tripp asks, taking the seat next to me and pointing to the checklist.
“Yeah, I think it would be a great opportunity. I want the experience in the field more than I want to sit in a class. I don’t think a person can fully understand the type of career they’re getting into without experiencing it firsthand.”
Except me. I’ve known since the day I applied to college.
“Yeah, I agree. I’m lucky they don’t select only full-time students. If they did, I’d definitely be out of the running.”
“You’re trying to get into the program too?” I ask.
He’s got to be messing with me.
I start to laugh and then shove him the way I do when Winston is joking with me. “You’re off to a good start on this friends thing. I’ve never known you to be the kind of person to make jokes,” I say.
But Tripp doesn’t say anything and I don’t hear him laughing with me. I turn to look at him. Yeah, he doesn’t think what I just said was funny.
My laughter fades and my smile drops. “You’re being serious?”
“Yeah,” he says. “But I’m glad you think it’s funny that I actually have goals.”
“I don’t think it’s funny, I just … you’ve never mentioned it before, so I assumed you didn’t really care.”
“I never mentioned it before because until recently, holding an actual conversation wasn’t something we did.”
“Yeah, but for as long as I’ve known you, I—”
“Don’t really know me, yeah. That’s pretty clear, Lennox.”
Tripp turns his focus to the front of room, and I’m left staring at his profile. He has a point, but I’m not going to admit that to him. I should know by now that the Tripp I’ve been familiar with isn’t that Tripp anymore.
Tell him you’re sorry.
I open my mouth to speak, because surprisingly, aside from the OJ incident, Tripp really is making an effort and I’m … well, I didn’t mean to be so biased.
Professor Turner starts class before I can think of what to say. I’m sorry just doesn’t feel right.
Class takes forever. It’s only an hour, but I spend the entire time thinking about what I’ll say to Tripp when it is over. If we didn’t live together, I wouldn’t make this big of deal, but we do now, so …
Tripp stands and heads for the door. I take his mad dash as a hint that he doesn’t want to talk.
“Tripp, wait up,” I call out anyway. He doesn’t stop walking, so I pick up my pace to catch up.
“For someone who works so hard and makes a point that people shouldn’t judge her, I’m starting to think you’ve done your own fair share of judging others. Or maybe just judging me.”
Damn it. Why is he always right? I hate that Tripp is a lot smarter than I gave him credit for.
“Can you blame me? I didn’t see you going around being Mr. Nice Guy to me.”
“That’s because you’ve hated me from the moment you met me,” he says, finally coming to a stop.
“That’s not true. The first two days we were around each other, I actually thought quite highly of you.”
“Then what the hell changed?”
“You don’t remember?” I ask.
“No, I don’t. I have tried to remember everything I can to figure it out, but I got nothing.”
“You called me a peasant and then said you don’t hang out with peasants.”
All expression in Tripp’s face disappears. He just looks at me with this blank stare I don’t know what to make of. Is he remembering? Is he embarrassed? I have no idea. Then, he laughs. He begins to laugh so hard that he bends over to rest his hands on his knees.
I don’t join him. It’s not funny.
Finally, his laughter fades, but his smile sticks to its wide state.
“Lennox, that was what … three years ago? I’m not going to stand here and make excuses because I was a dick. But I had just moved here and hated everything, an angry teen determined to make everyone around me suffer because I was unhappy. Clearly, you had to have known I didn’t mean it.”
“I didn’t know you. How was I supposed to figure that out?”
He shrugs. “Winston, maybe?”
“Well, he didn’t say anything about it.”
“Well, then, Lennox, I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it. I don’t think you’re a peasant. If anything, I said it because you had this whole ‘I don’t need anyone’ vibe about you and I’ve never known what that feels like.”
“So you were jealous of me?” I ask and the question almost makes me laugh.
“No, I just didn’t like those who were so different from me.”
“But you like me now?” I ask as we round the corner to the apartment.
“You’re … tolerable.”
“That’s better than before, I guess.”
“Hey, you don’t think I’m so bad anymore either, admit it,” he says.
“Eh … you’re tolerable.”
He laughs, and I do too.
“Even if you’re all cheery in the mornings and then crabby by the afternoon,” I add and immediately wish I hadn’t said that. We just started to get along and if I keep making comments like that, this friendship will be short lived. “I don’t—”
“You’re right. I’m still adjusting, so it’s probably safe to assume this won’t be a one-time thing.”
“So don’t get used to you being nice?” I laugh.
“I’m working on it.”
He glances down at me, and I have to look away before he can see my reaction. His smile has never made me grin so damn huge since the day I met him.
“Do you work tonight?” he asks.
“No, one of the girls begged me for my shift,” I say. “I didn’t want to give it up, but she was relentless.”
“Oh, I do,” he says as I unlock the door. He heads right for his room. “Wish me luck on my first day. I’m going to change and head there.”
“Good luck,” I say and watch him walk down the hall.
Damn it.
A roommate wasn’t supposed to be a good thing.
Tripp
I’m about halfway through my first shift at the gym and I can’t believe I’m even thinking this, but this whole job thing isn’t really that bad. The only downside to this job in particular is the fact I’m fully aware that Lennox isn’t working tonight, yet I keep glancing at the tanning salon like she might appear.
Maybe it came from watching her face blush when I caught her checking me out this morning and liking these new reactions from her.
“Looking for someone?” Brandy asks. She’s stocking some of the beverages in the cooler and glances over her shoulder, waiting for my answer. I pull my gaze from the tanning salon.
I hadn’t realized I was that obvious.
“No,” I answer and keep reviewing the class schedule at the gym. Brandy suggested that I memorize it because I guess almost 100 percent of the phone calls they get are split between monthly pricing and what time a class is. When I first saw the prices, I didn’t think they were so bad, then I remembered that I have no money. I better be damn thankful my membership is now free.
“Are you sure? It sort of looks like you’re looking for your roommate.”
“I’m sure.” Although I wouldn’t be totally upset if Lennox did show up. Something changed after class today. Maybe I should have asked her a long time ago why she didn’t like me. We could have begun getting along months ago. Turns out, for as much as I complained about her not knowing me, I know very little about her. And a part of me wouldn’t be so upset if I knew a little more.
“So you guys aren’t just friends?”
I sure hope they don’t schedule me with Brandy on every shift. She really enjoys talking, and she only wants to talk about me, and it’s starting to make me remember why I didn’t want to get a job. That, and because I had to decline, because of my job, to Winston’s invite to hang out with him and Mark at Plum’s tonight.
I know this is my life now, but it doesn’t mean I fully enjoy it.
“We’re …” I pause when Brandy steps closer, a hopeful look in her eyes. “A thing, yeah.”
I might have just ruined all the good I’ve built with Lennox over the past few days, but I need to keep this job, and cutting Brandy off before she can get so hopeful that it makes this job suck is actually a good thing. I’ll tell Lennox this; she’ll agree and be cool with it.
Well, that’s what I’m telling myself anyway.
“Tripp, hey,” Mark says, saving me from this conversation with Brandy turning any more awkward than it already has for me.
“What are you guys doing here?” I ask as Winston follows him through the door.
“Well, we figured that if you’re going to be spending all your free time working here, we may as well get memberships,” Winston says.
“You guys don’t need to get memberships just because I work here.”
“We don’t really have a choice because if we don’t, we’ll never see you,” Mark says. “And as lame as it sounds, we kind of like you and think it sucks you had to get a job.”
Winston nudges him.
“Sort of. We also think it’s a good thing,” Mark adds.
“I wish your parents hadn’t cut you off, but you needed something to motivate you,” Winston says. He’s always the responsible one. I feel like the assumed reaction should be irritation that my friends think I didn’t have goals, but Lennox didn’t either, and so maybe I acted like more of a privileged dick than I thought.
“It’s actually not so bad. I get a free membership and can add one person so they get it free too,” I tell them. I’d still rather get all my money back, but since that isn’t an option, this will do for now.
“Shit, maybe I shouldn’t have just given you the dad/friend speech. You’ll pick Mark now for sure,” Winston says.
“Heck yeah.” Marks grins and Winston shoves him.
“Actually, I was thinking about asking Lennox. Since she only works at the tanning salon, she doesn’t get a free membership to the gym.”
Both of their faces go blank.
“What?” Mark asks first.
“Yeah, what?” Winston crosses his arms and gives me look that says I’m up to something, whereas Mark’s face just looks confused.
“Lennox has been … pretty cool about this stuff, aside from that first morning, and with no money, I don’t exactly know how to thank her.”
“What the hell, bro? You just said Lennox was pretty cool.” Mark laughs and looks at Winston.
Winston isn’t laughing.
“Did something happen between you two?” he asks instead. Something I’ve never seen before flashes in his eyes. Jealousy, maybe?
“No.”
“Something happened,” he says.
“She told me why she’s hated me for so long, and I apologized.”
“That’s not it.”
“Who cares?” Marks asks. “We have the money for our memberships anyway.”
Winston doesn’t pry after that. I give them both paperwork to fill out, and Brandy helps me set up their accounts.
“With three boys that look like you guys, it’s no wonder Tripp isn’t single,” Brandy says just as we finish. She struts off, gaining Winston’s attention. Except it isn’t the attention you’d guess.
“What does she mean by that?” he asks, and that same look from before returns. He’s always denied that he has feelings beyond friendship for Lennox, but this look, it says something different.
“You sure are nosy today,” Mark says to him.
“Well, he’s living with my best friend. I’m just trying to make sure he doesn’t fuck this up.”
“He won’t.”
“I won’t.”
“So you’re back with Sydney?” Winston asks.
I shake my head. “No, I may have told a little white lie to get that Brandy girl to stop flirting with me,” I explain. Winston opens his mouth to say more, but I cut him off. “I don’t have money for a girlfriend, and I have more important things to worry about now, don’t you think?”
He thinks about it for a moment and nods. “That’s a good idea, actually.”
“Are you going to give us a tour now or what?” Mark asks.
I laugh. “Sure will. Might be the worst tour ever since I don’t know where everything is, but let’s go.”
Luckily, Winston doesn’t ask any more questions about Lennox.
I make it home just after ten thirty. Not knowing whether Lennox is awake or not, I enter the apartment as quietly as I can. I make it about three steps and freeze. The living room lamp is the only light on, and Lennox is asleep on the couch. She’s got on a pair of pink and white striped pajama shorts and a T-shirt that hangs off her shoulder. Her hair is loose over the arms of the couch, and her chemistry book is clenched against her chest.
Aside from being asleep, this was the exact spot she was in when I left for work. I have no doubt she spent the entire night studying. Quietly, I make my way to the kitchen to get something to drink. The fridge creaks a little when I open it, but instead of worrying whether she heard me, I’m distracted by what’s inside the fridge—two full bottles of Tropicana orange juice. One has her name written on it in black Sharpie and one has mine. Right under my name I see the big words “no pulp.”
I can’t help but smile. I close the fridge and settle for a glass of water. Before I head to my room, I pull the fleece blanket off the back of the couch and cover her with it. I gently take her glasses off and remove the book. She stirs, but doesn’t wake.
I should be heading to my room now. Instead, I’m being a full on creeper and staring at my roommate while she sleeps on the couch.
Lennox has lived a life working, going to school, paying bills, and still maintains somewhat of a social life. Moving in with her might not have been a bad thing after all. I mean, if she can do it, so can I, right?
I finally pull myself away and shut myself in my room. I pull out my laptop, one of the few things I packed when I left my apartment, and pull up the website for Verizon. If I’m doing this, I need to jump all in and I’ll need a phone.
Oh fuck.
My cell phone cost more than a grand. No wonder Lennox has a freaking flip phone.
I search the website a little more and learn that I can use the phone I already have. That will save me money, but I’ll still need to wait till I get paid to open an account.
I close my computer and set it on the floor. What if my paycheck doesn’t cover the cost? Shit. I hope I don’t need to buy anything else, because there is a good chance I’ve already spent my first paycheck and I haven’t even got it yet.
I’m just about to turn my light off when my computer dings with an email.
I flip the top open and see it’s from my mom.
I don’t read it.
I close the lid and turn off the light.
Things are starting to go well. I don’t need her ruining it. If I’ve learned anything with my parents, it’s that there is always a hidden motive, and right now, I don’t give a shit what it is. For once, my life isn’t just about me anymore and with that, for the first time, I don’t want to let someone down.
Chapter Seven
Tripp
Living with Lennox has its ups and downs—more downs, of course, but in the last week I have learned that she loves OJ so much, she’ll even pour me a glass every morning. She not only shows up on time for work, she’s early. We rode together on two days, and I didn’t enjoy the extra time with Brandy, but the smiles Lennox gave when I didn’t argue about going in before shift change was nice. She does, in fact, watch TV. She just does it on her computer with Netflix and Hulu. We watched a couple episodes of Stranger Things this week, and it’s really not so bad. I also learned that Lennox is an oddly calm person and has a positive outlook on most things.
On the other hand, although living with a girl is doable, it’s not always the easiest thing, and right now,
I have a feeling the scream coming from the bathroom is about to remind me of that. I was doing so well this last week, too. I even made it to our shared class before her on one of the days. Although, pointing out that fun detail wasn’t my best move.
“Tripp!” Lennox shouts once more, and the sound of her feet slapping against the floor tells me she’ll be in my room in three ... two … one.
“What the hell is this?” she asks. I’m guessing she’s holding up a wet towel, since I used hers about thirty minutes ago when I stepped out of the shower. A poor choice, I see that now. Actually, the poor choice was not hanging it back up so she wouldn’t find out.
“It’s a wet towel,” I answer without looking up from the notebook in my lap. Living here means I actually study on a Saturday morning. No, having no money means I study. Also, no phone means zero distractions. In a way, the peace and quiet is surprisingly nice. Or was, anyway.
“It’s my towel. Mine. Why is it wet and on the floor?”
“Well—” Ready for our daily argument—because let’s face it, we can’t not nitpick at each other—I look up. My next word freezes on my lips. Lennox Ashby is standing in front of me in nothing but a towel, her hair is wet, clinging to her shoulders, while water droplets run over her naked body. I know she’s naked because that thing she calls a towel is too small to hide any piece of clothing.
“Huh?” she asks again, clearly waiting for my answer and oblivious to the fact that I can’t stop staring at her and the nothing she is wearing at this moment. Thank God I have this book in my lap; otherwise, she’d know exactly what I was thinking.
“I’m sorry. You’re right,” I say, and her eyes widen. We both just stare at each other. I honestly don’t know what else to say. I mean, I could have run down the hall naked instead of using her towel, but I did that once in high school and my mother was in the hall with her tennis friends. It wasn’t fun.
