"See ya." I followed him with my eyes as he walked past me towards the huge trash can in the back of the cafeteria, then looked down and angrily ripped a huge chunk of chicken off with my teeth.
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Classes felt longer than usual.
In Public Speaking, one of my general education requirements, we were supposed to prepare an informative speech, teaching the class about any subject of our choosing. The guy in front of me was watching YouTube compilations of people slipping on ice. I watched over his shoulder as our peers educated us on astronomical phenomena, lost languages, and the history of surfing.
After class, I decided to do laundry. Michael wasn't in the dorm, so I gathered up my dirty clothes and towels in silence. Downstairs, hamper in tow. The laundry room was like a sauna. Five white washers hummed in unison, filling the room with hot, humid air.
Without a phone, I didn't have any way to set a timer for myself, or even know what time it was. I figured I could estimate what an hour felt like and bid my clothes goodbye.
A few hours slipped by in the library. Try as I might to focus, the usual recurring characters occupied my thoughts. Michael, blue eyes, big muscles, can you hold me again tonight? Rhoda, thick wavy hair, chipped nails, please don't hate me. Sarah, scowling, I'm done with this conversation.
Frustrated, I headed back to my building.
I tensed a little as I approached my door and heard quiet talking inside, then forced my hand up to knock. The last thing I wanted to do was walk in on Michael and some girl in bed.
"It's me!" I called.
No girl. I saw Michael in the shadows, talking on the phone. He gestured for me to come in.
I finally did, and he wrapped his arm around me, pressing me to him and giving my shoulder a friendly rub. "He told you that?" he continued to his phone. He had one AirPod in his ear and I had no idea what the other person was saying. "Bro, can't you guys do it yourself? Or literally just hire some-"
I tried not to listen, focusing instead on the part of his chest uncovered by his half-buttoned shirt. The eagle was peeking out. I thought about what Rhoda had said about tattoos. Maybe I should get one. It certainly made Michael look hotter, so maybe it would for me too.
"So get the money from Dad," he said. "You still talk to him, don't you?" He started walking in a sort of oblong shape, and because we were connected I stumbled uncomfortably after him. "Jesus, man. How's Abby?"
Maybe he comes from a family of robbers, I thought. Or maybe they're a gang and they go around murdering people. It had to be something cool like that.
"Okay, call me when you've talked to him?" he said, lowering his eyes as he spoke.
I inhaled softly and tightened my stomach as his fingers grazed over it, trying my best not to make a sound. I wondered if in his weird twisted mind, this was fun for him. Probably. I looked up, hardening my gaze, and planted my hand experimentally over the front of his pants.
He widened his eyes at me and I pressed harder. "Shit, gotta go," he mumbled into the phone. I giggled and pushed myself up on my toes for a kiss. "Hey, remember we're supposed to go out tonight," he told me as I backed us up towards his bed.