Текст книги "Forgive Us Our Trespasses"
Автор книги: M. L. Steinbrunn
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Текущая страница: 2 (всего у книги 20 страниц)
Classes don’t start for another three days, so I’m not too worried that only one more of our roommates has moved in by Friday evening. We were told that kids would be moving in all weekend; I just insisted that I be there on the actual day that they let us in—yeah… I’m that girl.
Jen and I clicked with Carly the minute she walked through the door Friday morning. Uber-nice is putting it lightly, but she is not at all fake. Ditzy, yes, but not in a let’s-save-mankind-and-drown-her kind of way. She has gorgeous light brown hair that is paper straight, and sapphire blue eyes. She has curves for days, which I’m sure attracts lots of male attention, but I get the feeling she is a tad self-conscious.
Jen’s never said another word about my dad, and I’m totally okay with that. I came here to get away from the old me, the me who was swallowed up by her father’s death. I don’t know if Jen is uncomfortable with my past; or she just doesn’t judge me for it. Either way, I am thankful for her and the fresh start.
Our Three Musketeers status is cemented pretty quickly. Once Carly is settled in, we go exploring, checking out the neighbors who we could find, the bookstore, and the dining hall—which, by the way, has the best and largest waffles known to man. I can feel myself drooling, and I can already feel my curves expanding at the sight of those huge disks of breakfast perfection; if I’m not careful, the ‘freshman fifteen’ would turn into the ‘freshman thirty’. I am on the short side…who am I kidding?...I’m a hobbit with shoes. So needless to say, any pound gained is definitely a pound seen. There is nowhere to hide it. Not to say I’m husky or big-boned or whatever the new politically correct term is, I’m just average. I’m not gorgeous like Amanda, I’m not super-tiny like Jen, nor am I full-figured. I am more the athletic build; I rock the 3Bs: b-cup and a bubble butt. Yep, I’m average, which means I’m not noticeable. I’m not beautiful, but not ugly, just average, and that’s okay by me.
“I say we stay in tonight, hang out, and then tomorrow meet some people on campus after waffle time; hopefully my roommate will be here by then,” Carly says, hanging over the end of the couch, her long hair sweeping across the floor, as she, no doubt, is trying to digest the massive subs we just inhaled for dinner.
I could not agree with her more, especially about the waffles. “Good idea, I don’t think I could even move at this point. Let’s just put PJs on and watch movies, or play a board game or something.”
Slowly we all gather ourselves off the floor and couch to get ready for our chick-flick-o-Rama evening.
We each take our turns in the bathroom, scrubbing the remains of the day off our faces and changing into our pajamas. In my most comfortable yoga pants and tank top, my long auburn hair piled high on top of my head, and wrapped in my favorite fleece blanket, I make it back out to the living area. We all come armed with our movie selections, Girls Just Want to Have Fun, Sixteen Candles, and Pride and Prejudice.
We get settled and start the first movie; of course, we all love a little Mr. Darcy time.
“I don’t know; I think if I had the choice, I would want the Jane and Mr. Bingley love story,” Carly says, shoveling a handful of popcorn into her mouth. Jen turns to her wide-eyed, mouth open and just stares at Carly.
“WHAT!” Jen screeches once she gathers her voice. “Mr. Darcy is soooo worth swooning over. I would chop off my left arm just to have the chance to have a guy say those things to me.”
“Why can’t it just be a quiet, comfortable relationship? Jane and Mr. Bingley were smitten, just not over the top.” Both look to me to settle the argument. Good call, guys. Yeah, ask me, the girl who has never been in love, the girl who hates what love can do to a person. I’m not sure if I’m even capable of that emotion; I’m too afraid of losing my heart to ever take the risk.
Dodging the question, I get up to refill my soda and start another bag of popcorn for the next movie. When I get back, they are still waiting for my answer. Well shit…think, think, think. Act like a girl; what is the girly, touchy feeling thing to say? SHIT!
Out of desperation, I finally blurt out the first thing that comes to mind. “Carly, while Jane and Charles were absolutely adorable, and it was evident that they cared for one another, I think what Jen is saying is that they lacked the fire that Mr. Darcy and Elizabeth obviously had. I guess there is no right answer. They each had two different kinds of love; the real question is, what kind of love do you want?”
Jen’s glazed-over look tells me immediately that I’m either half-crazy, or it went totally over her head. Yep, the girl with no heart strikes again.
“Okay, so I have no idea what in the world you just said, but what I do know is that if you aren’t in my Lit class this semester, I’m so transferring to yours. You can definitely help with my literary impairment. I could never come up with something like that, and I have a feeling that my GPA will need every little bit of help it can get.”
“Oh, my God, I am not cheating for you!” I shout, hitting her with a pillow.
“Hey, I didn’t say cheat,” she says, grabbing the pillow from my hands and resting it behind her head. “But a little assistance never hurt anything. I swear you’re like a walking, talking style guide; it would be a shame to not put that brain to use to help others.”
I can’t help but chuckle at her very thorough defense of what I consider bending, if not breaking, the rules. Despite my resistance, I know that I will probably help her out. Damn, I’ll probably end up writing some of her papers myself. I shake my head, “You are going to get me in so much trouble this year; I can already tell.”
“I surely hope so; this is college. We are supposed to have fun!”
“Just don’t get me arrested.” I have never been in any real trouble before, but I’m sure that phone call home would not go well. Knowing my mom, she’d let me sit in the cell all night to think about what I did, just like when I would get sent to my room as a kid for picking on Amanda. Then after letting me sweat it out, she’d drive up here and drag me home.
“Anyway, so Carly, are you scared you got matched with a dud for a roommate? We can always make a special bed on the floor in our room if she turns out to be completely terrifying,” I tease.
“Just for that, you can’t come dancing tomorrow night. I’ll invite all my new nice friends to The Suite. It should be packed because it’s the last Saturday before school; I thought we could all go.”
“Oh, come on, I’m just teasing. I’m sure she won’t be too bad; you know, maybe she’ll be like a Tarantino gun slinger or something.”
“It would be nice if we get along, but really, as long as she sticks to her side of the room and doesn’t borrow weird things like underwear or anything, I think we’ll be good.”
“Seriously? Underwear, Carly?” I ask skeptically. I’m not sure I would be okay even looking at their underwear, let alone stealing it and then wearing it. That ranks up there with crazy lint-stealing guy who keeps girls’ dryer lint from the Laundromat in his pocket and smells it all day. I’m not sure he exists, but my mom sure warned me of such creatures when she explained college basement Laundromat safety on the drive here.
“Well, you never know! My sister said that her roommate in college had no concept of personal space. She borrowed her B.O.B., and my sister found it under the girl’s pillow!”
“Oh, my God! That is absolutely nasty!” Jen shouts with a body shiver to help enunciate her complete disdain. I smile, but I am clearly lost in the conversation.
“What is a B.O.B.?” I ask casually. Jen looks at me like I’m insane and have escaped the state hospital.
“You have got to be kidding me. It’s every girl’s trusty companion; you never leave home without it,” Jen defends.
“You mean, like Chapstick or your Visa card?” Carly jokes, earning a dirty look from Jen, who apparently takes this particular topic seriously. I hide the bottom half of my face in my pillow to cover my growing smirk that would put me in the hot seat like Carly.
“A B.O.B. is a battery operated boyfriend, also known as a vibrator.” Jen sits up straight like she is going to lecture us on something of grave importance. And from the sounds of it, she finds vibrators to be of the utmost significance. I haven’t lived in a cave my entire life. I have heard of pleasuring yourself; I’ve even tried it a time or two. When I had sex for the first time, I figured one or both of us were doing it totally wrong, and I’d needed to figure it out ASAP; yeah, it was him. In a town the size of mine, I didn’t want rumors of my abilities–good or bad–floating around. I initially had sex to see what the fuss was about, and as it turned out, there shouldn’t be such a fuss. I have never used a vibrator, but as I tune in and out of Jen’s lecture, I’m starting to think maybe she has a point; I’ve been missing out. Lit education for a little sex education doesn’t seem like a bad tradeoff. I zone back in for the last bit of her rambling to catch probably the most significant piece to her oration.
“They have been saving girls from romantic dry spells since the late 1800s, and in the last decade orgasm engineers have managed to perfect the design of those wondrous little mechanical love sticks. No girl should go without. Don’t worry, Vivian, we will fix you up beautifully.”
I nod and smile instead of verbally responding. All words have truly escaped me. What does one even say in response? ‘My favorite color is purple, so make sure it’s a big ole lavender thing.’ Yeah, I think not.
Feeling proud of herself, Jen snuggles back into her blanket and pillow to finish our girls’ night. We start Girls Just Want to Have Fun, but none of us makes it through; we all fall asleep. Carly is on the couch, and Jen and I sprawl out across the floor.
Brooks
“Dude, the room is so far; why does the room have to be so far?” Will slurs as he stumbles into the dorm elevator.
“Shut up, Will. We are almost there,” I say, holding him up against the wall of the elevator as the doors close. “I swear if you throw up in this elevator, I will leave you in it.”
My roommate Will and I thoroughly enjoyed our Friday night. I’ve decided college is definitely the place for me. We started at a few dance clubs on College Avenue, but it didn’t take long to realize that Will has about as much rhythm as a three-legged dog, so his wingman status was demoted. We left and made our rounds at the house parties off campus, and from there, our night took off. The alcohol flowed, and no one cared that we were underage. Will was hilarious, which brought invites to more parties, and my looks brought the ladies. I know my strengths, and a pretty face happens to be one of them, so of course I play it up. It’s helped to get many girls in the past, and I look to increase those numbers here.
We both had our fair share of drinks; I’m feeling the dizzy fuzzy feeling that lets me know I’ve reached my limit, but Will, on the other hand, is apparently having trouble handling his liquor. Helping his drunk ass is no easy feat; the boy is large–not tuba player in the band large either–I mean linebacker, rugby player large. I can hold my own, but Will…well…he’s scary. We got to know each other pretty quickly though, and he is just a big teddy bear. He really is just an all-around nice guy, the kind that all the girls would love to bring home to their mothers, and the kind that their fathers’ wouldn’t threaten and/or kill.
Will’s definitely not like me. Maybe one day I’ll care about actually being with a girl long enough to want to know her last name, let alone meet her parents, but that time is not right now. I’m interested in one thing—pussy–any way I can get it. After tonight, I realize there is certainly an abundance of it for the taking, and Will is the perfect guy to help reel them in.
The ding of the elevator signals our stop and the doors open, giving me a brief moment to muster my strength to carry Will down the hall to our room. We live on a co-ed floor, which is evident from all of the fluffy door decorations and white boards saying ‘I heart whoever’ on them. Having beautiful girls around all of the time is fantastic for collecting images for the spank bank, but I know better than to shit where I eat, so the girls on this floor are off limits. I may be a man-whore, but I’m not stupid. There is nothing worse than a crazy obsessed woman, who knows where you live.
We stagger to our door, barely making it without falling. Thankfully, it’s unlocked, and we walk right in. It’s pitch black, so I drag Will as best as I can down the tiny hallway to our bedroom. The dorms are small, but I was adamant that I get the apartment-style dorm; we have more people in the rooms, but we get a living room and our own bathroom. There was just no way I was going to share some tiny living space with some other guy when I wanted to ‘entertain’.
The door is already open, so with every bit of strength I have left, I heave Will onto his bed on his side of the room. Completely out of breath from lugging Goliath the fifty feet to our room and still feeling my buzz, I slip off my shoes and crawl into bed. I let the spin of the room and thoughts of young naive co-eds ready to experiment lull me to sleep. Yeah, this year is going to be epic.
Brooks
“Ahhhh!”
“Oh, my God, call security!”
“Shhh, we can take care of them ourselves.”
The high-pitched screams and threats of ball removal rouse me from my blissful sex dream. I moan, but the shrills continue, only making the throbbing in my head worse, and forcing whatever I drank last night to rise to the base of my esophagus, ready to spew out at any moment. I’m totally hung-over, and whoever left the television on will die.
“Turn it off,” I hear Will grumble. “My head feels like it’s going to pop off.”
His words are met with more screams, prompting me to open my eyes. Staring right back at me, no more than an inch from mine, are the most beautiful eyes I’ve ever seen. They are this funky combination of hazel, brown, and green; it’s like they just can’t make up their mind. I’ve never seen anything like them, and they instantly pull me in.
“Carly, you were wrong; he’s absolutely alive,” she says, backing away from me. I lurch backwards on the bed to gain control of my surroundings. I take a look around to see pink plastered everywhere, except for the purple zebra-print blankets that Will is rolled up in–a far cry from our simple blue and grey comforters in our room.
I scan the room, taking note of each angry face until I land on the girl with the eyes. Now that I get the full picture of her, the eyes are no longer what I notice; it’s her complete package. She is absolutely gorgeous. She has chestnut hair but it looks like there are streams of fiery red tones woven throughout. I swear the girl is a walking contradiction, like her features couldn’t make up their mind, so she was blessed with a little of everything. It’s piled on top of her head, and she doesn’t give two shits about it, or that she has no make-up on. Really, neither do I; she is a stunning creature just the way she is.
I know I’m in the wrong room for sure; I just hope to Christ that I didn’t fuck any of them. And if I haven’t, then hopefully this isn’t my floor so that I can have a go at Red. I can feel myself just staring at her, but she looks away, like I’m making her feel uncomfortable. Considering the circumstances, I can understand her discomfort, but still, I usually get at least a small flirtatious smile back from the opposite sex. She’s giving me nothing, zilch, nada; I’m gum under her shoe that she stepped in and fucked up her morning.
“Okay, assholes, fun’s over,” the petite curly-haired blonde demands, shaking the mattress of the bed with her foot. Oh, yeah, this is the ball-buster of the crew; she has that air about her. At all costs, I try to avoid those, but it never fails, the ones I want are always hidden behind the female-muscle of the gang. And this little waif is Red’s muscle. If I want any chance in hell, I need to smooth things over with this feisty little thing.
“Up, boys. You passed out in the wrong room; time to go,” the curvy brunette intercedes, trying to mediate the awkward situation. If Red wasn’t in the picture, her curves would absolutely be on my radar, but they pale in comparison to who is standing next to her.
“I apologize, ladies. It was very late when we got home last night,” I say, trying to mend the strained introductions. “I was so worried about getting my friend Will to bed, that I didn’t check the room number, and it was so dark in the dorm, I didn’t notice the décor.”
The girls look to Will to back up my story–nope, they don’t trust me. I take no offense; I get that a lot. Will gives them a pathetic wave and smile, embarrassed by the situation. I just hope that he hasn’t pissed their bed, which would take this to a whole new level. “We really are sorry, girls; this was an honest mistake. I don’t even remember getting home. Are we at least on the ninth floor?” he asks.
His soft, easy tone lifts a weight off the girls, and I can see that we—well, at least, he–have been forgiven. The teddy bear strikes again; I knew I liked him for a reason.
“You’re in room 913,” Red pipes up, and I zero in on her. The sound of her voice is like a melody that I could never get tired of. It’s dripping with sweetness, and I want nothing more than to see if I can make it turn raspy.
I think for a minute about my home court rule and how willing I am to break it, but looking at Red once more, I bounce off the bed and stand before her. “Well, it looks like we are next door neighbors,” I tell her, leaning in close enough that I can catch a glimpse of her eyes again. “I guess we will get to know each other pretty well after all.” I whisper the last bit, tucking a piece of renegade hair behind her ear. I’m trying my damnedest to let her know that I’m more than interested, but she looks away from me and takes a step back like I’m shit on a shovel. I like a challenge, but fuck, throw me a bone, woman.
Will comes up behind me and slaps my back; I can hear his low rumble of a chuckle at my obvious rejection. “Looks like you’re barking up the wrong tree, Brooks. You may need to walk away while you still can.”
“I’d listen to the Hulk there, buddy. My girl Vivian is country, and you just never know what those country folks will do,” miniature bitchy girl says, crossing her arms across her chest like it’s some kind of threat. Yeah, okay, totally frightened, I think sarcastically.
I disregard everything that cunt-o-licious has to say, except for the one nugget of crucial information–Vivian, she told me Red’s name. It fits her perfectly. Vivian looks strong and warm, and I want to curl around her, feel every inch of her. The rest of it, well, it’s an empty threat. Country or not, Vivian could never hurt anyone, I know her kind; she’s as rare as they come. She’s not the type to cause hurt; she’s the type that gets hurt.
“Let us make it up to you,” I say, giving Vivian some space, but maintaining as much eye contact as she will allow, which isn’t much. “Let us walk you to the dining hall for breakfast, or let us take you girls out tonight. Since we’re neighbors and all, we might as well get to know each other. You never know when it will be handy to have guys right next door.” Yes, there is a double meaning in that, but from the eye rolls I receive from the mean one, and smiles from the other two, not everyone catches the hidden meaning.
“Thank you, but we have a girls’ day planned, and then we are going to Suite 152 to dance tonight,” Curves says. “I can’t imagine that you guys would like to dance, so maybe we can hang out some other time.”
“Fair enough,” Will agrees. The boy hates to dance, which is good since he barely has enough coordination to walk, but she left the door open for another invitation. Fuck, he needs some lessons in conversing with the opposite sex. At least he finishes introductions; I have to give him that. “This is my roommate Brooks, and I’m Will.”
“Nice to meet you,” Curves smiles. “I’m Carly; this is Jen,” she points to the short callous one. “And you met Vivian. We are still waiting on our fourth roommate to show up; her name is Campbell, but that’s all we know.”
“Well, it’s great to meet you all, even under such weird circumstances. We really are sorry if we scared you,” I say. “It would be great to hang out sometime; come over whenever you want.” I direct the last line towards Vivian, but she doesn’t even give me a second glance, which I’m not going to lie, hurts a little. I want her to notice me like the other girls do. I usually have to bat them away, and this girl couldn’t care less.
Will pushes me along, and we head toward their front door. We aren’t even completely in the hallway before Jen slams the door behind us. So glad I met her; she is one awesome gal. They may not have accepted our invitation right now, but I have every intention of being a thorn in their sides until I find an angle to get to Vivian. In one single meeting, it has become my mission of the semester to have this girl any way I can get her.
