“Yes! He was so nice to me before then. After that, he got super weird, and his brothers got super weird, and… Even now, in grad school, they turned it into a whole thing. I can’t stand any of them.”
My roommate clears his throat. “He did call you-”
“Princess Rosie?” I groan loudly, remembering how much that stupid nickname has haunted me since. It was my favorite nickname before they spoiled it. “That’s what they all call me. Trent and his brothers never let it go, and a few months back it started catching on. The engineering guys think it’s hilarious.”
I could go on for hours about Trent, his brother, the boys in our program, why they all need to learn some damn respect, but Locke speaks, low and stoic.
“Your ex shared something personal from your relationship to his brothers, then to your classmates, years after you broke up?” I nod. His face twist. “How can there be an ex worse than that?”
I press my fingers into my eyelids and sigh. If only he knew how bad it is for the women of Boston.
Gathering all my courage, I place my hands back on my hips and brace myself for an even thicker crash of embarrassment.
“The worst ex I’ve ever had was Jeremiah.”
“Jeremiah?” Now, Locke is a hurricane. I see every emotion flash across his face in three seconds. It’s the most animated I’ve ever seen him. “My dad’s weird fanboy from the mixer?!”
“Yes, unfortunately.”
“Are you sure?” From his raised eyebrows, I think he’s seriously asking. Like I would somehow mistake the guy I dated last semester. “He had a stain on his pants. The snacks there were dry. How the fuck did he get a stain?”
He’s not trying to be funny. His face is still creased, and he looks dumbfounded, but the laugh that tumbles out of me is unstoppable.
“I don’t know how the fuck he got a stain.”
“Neither do I!”
My laughs double, triple. It’s only when I’m clutching the side of my stomach that Locke laughs, too.
“Rosie,” he says between chuckles. “Did you actually date him?”
“Yes.” I force out. Date. Kiss. Fuck. Cry over. Too much time dedicated to someone who told me he didn’t know what a dryer sheet was. “I have a lot of bad memories from this program, but the ones with him were the worst.”
There’s still traces of laughter in our conversation, but they’re slowly dying out, and the ringing of embarrassment is returning.
He lets out a puff of air. “I… can’t believe you dated him.”
I drop my body back into my end of the sofa. “Well, believe it. According to our classmates, that was the only worthy topic of discussion last semester.”
Sometimes, when I’m walking down the hallways and pretending I can’t see the glances thrown my way, it’s like I can still hear what they say about me.
I can’t believe Jeremiah is doing that pity work.
How many guys in this program is she going to sleep with?
That gender diversity shit isn’t going to work in the real world. He’ll get tired of it, too.
I cling to the few traces of laughter left, trying to hide how devastating it is that my life’s passion has boiled down to this.
Locke chuckles, softer this time. “I’m just confused.”
“About?”
He shakes his head, grabs the popcorn bowl and heads towards the kitchen. “How a guy like that got a chance with a girl like you.”
His voice tapers off, and if this dorm wasn’t so cramped, I could attribute it to him walking to the kitchen. I wait until another bag of popcorn is heating up in our microwave to reply.
“I never learn, I guess.” I try to make a joke out of it, and stare at the back of Locke’s head waiting for him to laugh. He doesn’t.
