Pete still hasn’t caught on.
Clayton sighs. “Fatally harm has to be Sugar because I can’t work with her any other way.” He pauses. “The other two are making me nauseous.”
“Play your cards, dude.”
He covers his eyes and I glance and see the recognition registering in Pete’s eyes. His cheeks are the distinct shade of utterly embarrassed. Clayton sputters, “Screw John because he’s just too mean to spend the rest of my life with and Civil Union Hector, even though I don’t speak a word of Spanish and his hair net, baggy acid-wash jeans, and white, clunky, old-man sneakers are atrocious.” He can’t get the words out quickly enough and crosses his arms over his chest in a pouty gesture. “I’m done playing.”
I clap and laugh at the disgusted look on his face. “That was classic, Clayton.” Pete looks uncomfortable as hell like he’s afraid he’s up next so I switch gears. “Okay, new game.”
I proceeded to make up a new game where one person comes up with a question and then we all have to go around the circle and answer it. I learned that Pete was born in Texas, but grew up in Omaha, Nebraska. His favorite food is rare steak with sautéed garlic and mushrooms, his favorite childhood toy was a microscope (is that a toy?), and he’d rather have his little toe cut off with hedge clippers than walk across campus naked. And Clayton’s favorite book is Lord of the Rings, and he despises dogs—especially small ones. He competed in figure skating as a kid (I would have paid money to have seen that), and he would have no problem walking naked across campus as opposed to losing a toe, as long as he could wear thigh-high red socks and his black patent knee-high combat boots (I have to admit that’s a statement I’d like to see).
After Pete went to sleep an hour ago, Clayton and I worked on homework. But now my eyes don’t want to stay open anymore.
I close my European history book and whisper, “Clayton, you really know how to show a girl a good time, but I think I’d better retire. I’m beat.”
“Okay honey. I better get a little beauty sleep, too.”
I throw my bag over my shoulder. “Night Clayton.”
“Good night Katherine.” He blows me a kiss from where he’s sitting crisscross applesauce on the floor.
I blow a kiss back and shuffle across the hall. I notice the red ribbon tied on the doorknob but unfortunately it doesn’t signal a warning in my sleepy head until it’s too late. It all happens so quickly. All I see are a tangle of legs and bare butt cheeks. And then the moans are interrupted by aggressive cursing.
“What the f**k?” Sugar yells. She’s trying to scream at me but she’s breathless, clearly in the middle of a fairly aerobic session here. “Get the hell out of here, you bitch!”
The scene, and the red ribbon, finally registers. “Oh shit. Sorry dude.” I pull the door behind me quickly. My heart is racing. I’m wide awake now. I head down the hall and use the bathroom, where I splash some water on face and weigh my options. Should I wait her out, or should I sleep somewhere else? I head back down to Clayton’s room and knock softly. The adrenaline rush has worn off and I feel sleepy again. Clayton answers the door, already in his pajamas. They’re burgundy silk.
“Did you forget something Katherine?”
“No. Dude, first things first, when did you turn into Hugh Hefner? Those pajamas are fantastic.”
He smiles and curtsies. “Thank you.”
I motion with my thumb over my shoulder to my door. “Um, yeah, so Sugar’s riding the baloney pony and I totally just walked in on them. Do you mind if I room with you tonight?”
He throws the door open. “Oh course not, Katherine.” He glances across the hall at my door. “Didn’t you see the ribbon tied to the doorknob?”
I shake my head and whisper because I don’t want to wake Pete. “I know, I know. I guess I was tired. I wasn’t thinking. Besides, we never discussed the signal for don’t interrupt me, I’m having wild monkey sex.”
Clayton climbs in his twin bed and pulls the covers back. “Come on Katherine. We’re small, there’s plenty of room.”
“Oh no Clayton, I’ll just crash here on the floor.”
He motions for me. “Nonsense, come on.” He winks. “You’re absolutely lovely, but you’re not my type.”
I smile and crawl in. “Thanks Clayton. You’re the best. Good night.”
He kisses me on the cheek. “Good night Katherine.”
I’ve shared a bed with someone almost my entire life. I didn’t realize until now, but I’ve kind of missed it. This is nice.
Thursday, September 1
(Kate)
What is it about coffee? It’s the perfect beverage. It warms me, body and soul. And it makes me insanely happy. Even the thunderous bell doesn’t faze me this morning. I’ve decided to make peace with it since I know it cannot be outsmarted or reasoned with. I tried a medium push on the door just to be sure. Still loud as hell.
It’s early and Romero offers me his usual salute. “Good morning Kate,” he says while I take my place at the end of the short line.
While I’m waiting, the guy who was working Tuesday walks out from the back room. And yeah, he’s still astounding to look at. He doesn’t see me yet, but I watch as he draws an apron over his head and haphazardly ties it in the back.
He looks older than I am, but I’m guessing he’s a student since he works here. He’s average height, lean, and wiry but looks strong as hell—I can see the contours of the muscles in his triceps and shoulders—and unassumingly confident. It’s a confidence that I’m guessing is rooted deep down, but that fails him on a fairly regular basis. I would also wager that no one notices when it wavers because he’s so good at covering up his vulnerability with his likeable personality. And it’s not over-the-top, in-your-face likeable. It’s subtle. The kind of likeable that lures you in and before you know it you’ve bought the ticket, boarded the bus, and are miles into the pleasant journey before you question where you’re even going in the first place.