Rm w/a Vu(50)

I quirk my eyebrow at him, because I am more than certain the rumors surrounding my moving out of the dorms has been made public. “You’re joking, right?” He says nothing. “Well, when someone finds out their boyfriend and roommate are sleeping together, there’s not really much keeping you here.”

Erik doesn’t seem surprised by this news, which can only tell me he did know. “That sucks,” is all he says. “Can I ask if you know how he got the black eye?”

I’m just taking a sip of my drink when I laugh. “Greyston.”

“Your landlord?” I nod, and Erik shakes his head in disbelief.

Erik continues to ask me questions, and I’m surprised that I’m able to contribute to the conversation here and there. However, it seems that every time I bring up Greyston, Erik becomes agitated. We talk about Erik’s plans for the weekend, and when he asks what I plan to do, I remind him of the football game with Greyston and my parents. This leads Erik to ask how that was even arranged, and I explain the dinner last week where Greyston invited us all.

Naturally, I remember the whipped cream on the tip of Greyston’s fingers and get that warm tingly feeling in my lower belly. I don’t mention this out loud, but I imagine it over and over again before I let the memory play out to when I got whipped cream on my own clumsy digits.

And Greyston dropped his fork.

It must be the beer, because that memory shouldn’t be sticking out as prominently as it is… Should it?

Erik interrupts my thoughts, asking about the car I was driving to school the past few days.

“It’s Greyston’s,” I reply without thinking. “He wanted to be sure I had a more reliable vehicle while he was away on business.”

I swear I can feel Erik’s annoyance flare. “Of course. Next you’re going to tell me he’s the world’s best cook.”

“He’s not bad, actually,” I inform him, thinking back on all the delicious meals Greyston has prepared for us: the Alfredo dish, bacon and egg breakfasts, spaghetti…

That was when Greyston dropped his spoon into the sauce.

Something else clicks into place—even though I didn’t know there was a place for it to click.

Hours pass, meaning I’ve become even more drunk. Erik and I have been doing shots in between my apparently bottomless red solo cup of beer. Sure, it’s probably not the best way to avoid a hangover—or alcohol poisoning—but I’m actually having a good time. I’m not fully aware of when or why I do it, but it seems like every time Erik starts up a new topic, I bring up Greyston, always finding a way to relate it to whatever we’re talking about. However, the more I talk about him, the more I seem to remember all of these little things I originally sloughed off as unimportant because I had figured there was no way Greyston would ever act that way or say certain things around me.

The way his fingers brushed my knee when he was trying to comfort me about his leaving… The smiles he’s always giving me… Even just the way his eyes always lock on mine when he’s talking to me.

“Greyston again, huh?” Erik says after I tell him another Greyston story. I think he’s annoyed, but he could also be drunk…because I’m drunk, and I think everyone here is drunk.

“Greyston’s awesome.” My words are only slightly slurred as I state this as a fact. I think.

Erik seems to ignore my statement completely. “Look, can we stop talking about your landlord? How about we go and dance?”

“Uhhh…” I look behind me at the lazy dancers, leaning up against each other for balance—actually, upon closer observation they’re not leaning; they’re pawing at each other and on the verge of public sex. Some people have no shame.

“Juliette?” My eyes snap back to Erik’s a little too fast, and I lose my balance. He catches me, but I don’t like how his dry, calloused fingers feel on my arm. They itch. Greyston’s, though? They’re nice. Like little jolts of electricity making my heart beat faster and my stomach flip.

“What?” I ask before remembering what he just asked. “Oh, right. Um, I’m going to go to the washroom.”

Unable to deny me my girl time, he lets me go, and I stumble through the large crowd to find the bathroom. I do what needs to be done, wash my hands, and fix my hair. As I glance over my reflection, I flash back to when I was coming downstairs to greet Erik back at the house. There is no denying that there was something in the way Greyston was looking at me. I smile before biting my lip, wondering what the look might have meant…

There’s a knock on the door that startles me until I hear Erik’s voice calling for me from the other side. When I open the door, he’s holding my cup out to me. I’m suddenly not feeling like partying and just want to go home.