“Hello, Brooks, it’s nice to see you again,” I say pleasantly. I figure maybe if I try to be his friend, it will stop his pursuits, and this crush I have will slowly fade. When he moves his chair closer to mine, I realize that may not be the best plan of defense.

“You know, I’m not really great at writing papers; I could always use a study partner,” he says, whispering the last part of the sentence. His hushed voice causes my body to shake from the inside out until I feel every inch of my skin vibrate. I never react to guys this way; in fact, I typically try to stay clear of them as much as possible, and guys like Brooks, I need to avoid like the plague.

“I’m sure you’ll manage just fine,” I tell him, moving my desk away from his. Overhearing our conversation, the brunette behind him interrupts.

“Well if she won’t help, I would be more than happy to help in any way that I can,” she purrs, leaning forward to touch his shoulder. Oh, yeah, I’m sure she would give him a hand–more like she’d offer some vagina to go with that Shakespeare. Her well-endowed chest pouring out of her tiny shirt and the overdone make-up she has plastered all over her face provides a pretty clear picture of the kind of help she would like to provide.

Brooks turns around to address her, and when I see him smile, I have to hold myself back from jumping across the aisle and stabbing her with my pencil. This pang of jealousy is something new, and it’s not a good color on me. Besides, I only have a mechanical pencil; it wouldn’t leave enough of a mark. I need to remember to start bringing good ole number twos to class.

Before he can answer, the professor, Dr. Vauldin, walks in and immediately begins passing out the course syllabus and discussing class expectations. For an entire fifty minutes I keep my eyes forward, desperately trying to forget about whatever flirting extravaganza may or may not be going on behind me. I know the best thing for me will be to see Brooks with someone else, that it will help me get over whatever this is, but holy shit, the idea of it makes me angry.

The instant Dr. Vauldin ends his long-winded, mind-numbingly boring tirade on the importance of correct grammar in all compositions; I spring out of my seat in an attempt to ditch Brooks and his little tag-along. Walking through the doors and hitting the fresh air, I feel like I can finally breathe again. It’s like his presence sucks all of the air out of the room, and I’m left to survive on whatever he leaves behind. I need to get away from him.

I don’t make it far down the hallway before he catches me, landing his arm across my shoulders. “Wait up, Red; you didn’t need to run off. I can walk you to your next class; I have an hour before my next one starts.” It makes my stomach flip-flop, and my defense mechanisms kick in to high gear. I shoot him a look of disdain and he removes his arm, immediately placing his hands at his sides. I feel the loss as soon as he takes it away, and I have to remind myself that it’s better to not get involved with someone like him.

“Thanks, but I have a break, too. I was going to go back to my dorm and see if Campbell has finally showed up.” I see Will and Jen just outside the exit of the lecture building, so I move quickly to try to get to them; they can serve as my Brooks buffer. Even though he took his hand away, he’s still walking very closely.

Just before we reach the exit, another class lets out and a crowd of people rush into the hallway, forcing us to stop. “So, Vauldin’s class is going to be rough to get through,” I mutter, trying to make friendly small talk; running from him isn’t exactly working.

“Seriously, if you weren’t in there, I would strongly consider dropping the class.” The Brooks charm is back in full force. I stare at him, considering my options. Do I go for it and go on a date with him? Maybe he’s not as bad as I’ve made him out to be. Do I put him in his place so that he’ll leave me alone for good? Or do I avoid the situation by dropping the class myself, maybe even transferring dorms? Because that is totally sane and logical, and I’m sure my mom would understand. Luckily, I don’t have to make the choice.

“Brooks! I was hoping to run into you today,” exclaims a decent-looking blonde with legs for days. She snakes her arms around Brooks’ waist, and rests her head on his shoulder like she’s staking her claim of him. She looks at me and I see the competition in her eyes; she’s threatened by me and wants me to know that she is going to win. I brace myself for what’s going to come next, because in girl-world, this type of fight usually isn’t pretty. Brooks, on the other hand, looks embarrassed and unsure of how to proceed. Yup, that karma is a bitch, isn’t it, buddy.

“Sondra, what a surprise,” he mutters with a half-smile. It looks like he’s starting to sweat a bit, and I almost want to laugh. Here I thought maybe I could bend my rules and see past his arrogance, but thankfully, fate stepped in just in time to show me his true Douche McGee status. I almost feel sorry for him; the scenario is not ideal: previous weekend make-out buddy shows up while in progress of hitting on new make-out buddy target.

“Saturday was wonderful; we are going to have to do it again sometime. I had no idea guys could be so dexterous with their fingers, and what you did with your tongue…I’m pretty sure is illegal in several states.” Her statements are directed at both of us–an invitation for him, and a warning to back off for me. I feel my face scrunch in disgust that I’m privy to this conversation, but then sympathy I had for Brooks is now nonexistent. “Thank goodness I’m so flexible, or we never would have been able to fit in that club bathroom.”

My eyes widen and I choke on my own saliva. The Skank-o-meter blares in my head, and I look to Brooks to confirm that not only is she a slut-puppy, but that he may in fact have gonorrhea from his bathroom tryst. With guilt written all over his face, he evades my eyes and looks down at the floor, which gives me all the confirmation I need to stay away from him.

“There’s no need to say anything, Brooks; she didn’t say anything that would surprise me. But something that I guess would shock you is I’m not that type of girl who’ll blow someone in a public bathroom, nor am I into one-night-stands. So, whatever you thought you were going to get from me isn’t going to happen,” I try to make my voice as commanding as possible. I take him off-guard and he stares at me like I’ve beaten his dog or something. “Besides,” I say, pointing to Legs, “it looks like you have more than enough volunteers to fill up your punch card.”

I turn on my heel, leaving Brooks with his bathroom Barbie behind. I walk the remaining distance to the courtyard where Will and Jen are. I’m hoping they will help clear my mind of the guy I actually wanted, who proved he is exactly what I shouldn’t.

Brooks

When Sondra found me in the hallway and said those things in front of Vivian, I wanted the tiles of the floor to split in half and swallow me whole. Not because I fucked some girl in the bathroom of a night club—shit, I’m proud of myself for remembering her name–no, what embarrassed me is that Vivian heard it. For the last month, I’ve showed up to English Comp class excited to see her, and she always smiles politely and gives me a little wave hi, but then ignores me.

The girls have adopted Will as their official fifth roommate; I, on the other hand, am probably just tolerated because I’m with him. Our other bedroom was left open, so Will and I are the only ones in our dorm; I can’t exactly complain about that. Four guys living together…I can’t imagine it always being pleasant. At least there will always be toilet paper in the suite. I’ve heard stories of guys having to wipe their asses with notebook paper because their roommate can’t manage to replace the roll. No, thank you. However, it would be nice to have some other testosterone around.