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Quinn’s shoulders jump. He looks at me as if I appeared out of thin air, then like he only now remembers I have eyes and I can see him, he flushes and says, “Hi.”
He doesn’t grab a shirt or try to cover himself up, so maybe my thought earlier about the locked door might be a little off base. He does look uncomfortable, his arms are tight at his sides, and he’s obviously waiting for the interaction to be over.
“How was your…day?” Lame. So lame. I can make friends. I’m a master at making friends.
He blinks like the question surprises him. “Fine.”
“Cool. Cool.” I tap the textbook and look down at it so I have somewhere else to put my eyes. “I’m doing the reading. For Analytical. Chapters one through three. Pretty boring.”
“I already did it yesterday.”
Ooookkaayyy.
“Right. Yeah, I was busy with practice and stuff.” I laugh under my breath.
He glances at the book, then at my phone face-down on the blanket, then back at the book. “You have to do the problems at the end. The chapters alone won’t be enough if you don’t know the math.”
“That tracks.” I try to smile. I aim my focus at his forehead. “Maybe you could show me which problems. Not now. Unless now is good. Now can be not good if it’s a bad time. I’m flexible. I mean—not flexible. Available. Whenever you could show me.” It’s like word vomit, I can’t stop them from coming out of my mouth.
Quinn stares at me for a second too long. His ears go pink, I think. But he doesn’t reach for a shirt.
“I’m going to go to sleep,” he says.
“It’s eight-thirty.”
“I know.”
“Okay.” I nod as if this whole situation hasn’t made me feel like an idiot. I asked for help, and he totally shot me down. Guess tutoring isn’t a good idea. “Sleep. I’m a big fan of sleep. I also sleep. Sometimes.”
Oh my god, someone cut out my tongue.
He takes off his glasses, sets them on the nightstand, and kills the lamp. The light drops down to my desk light that is barely enough for me to see the letters on the page.
I sigh. “Night, Quinn.”
A pause fills the space, and I can almost feel it. Then, very quietly, he says, “Good night, Daniel.”
A little thrill goes up my spine. He said my name. And I like the way it sounds.
Yeah. No. That’s a problem.
I pull up my contacts and scroll until I find Haley’s name. She’s always up for a good time, and I’m definitely not studying now. Not with a chub going on in my sweats and a roommate six feet away who doesn’t even know he’s the cause.
I slide off my bed, keeping my body angled away from him, and grab my hoodie off the post at the end.
“I’m gonna...grab some air,” I tell the dark, in case he’s still awake.
He doesn’t answer, not that I expected him to.
I take my phone and the problem in my sweats and get out of the room before I do something stupid. Being attracted to my roommate is inconvenient at best, and a disaster waiting to happen at least.
SIX
DANIEL
Haley was up for meeting up. And it was a good time. I feel looser after; I could probably fall asleep right here, if I wasn’t opposed to sleeping in a puck bunny’s bed. That is a hard rule I’m not going to break. It gives them the wrong idea, and I like Haley enough not to do that to her.
I sit up and hook my sweats from the floor in one smooth motion. Pulling them on as I stand. I throw her a grin. She watches me like a cat that ate the canary, pleased with herself.
