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"You're not single."

Her breath hitches.

"That's all you have to say if Wrist Guy asks again."

"I'm not single." She says, testing the words on her tongue.

Not for these next two weeks at least.

The tension in my jaw lessens ever-so-slightly. "Easy as that."

"Alright," Lenny says, trying her best to sound confident. "Yeah. Easy enough."

Jace

Winter of Freshman Year at CMU

Ishouldn't have to knock on the door of my own dorm room.

But… I also shouldn't have had to see my roommate with his dick in his hand on more than one occasion since he got here in August.

So, with my practice bag slung over my shoulder, the clock ticking, and the realization that I definitely didn't appreciate the three quiet weeks I had here before the rest of the students reported, I rake my knuckles against the heavy beige door.

"Yup," Scottie calls out—his typical response if the coast is clear.

I push my student ID into the lock and wait for the soft beep as it reads the card. When the blinking red light switches to a solid green dot, I press down on the metal handle and push through the doorframe with my duffle squeezing in beside me.

"What's up," I say to Scottie, dropping my bag on the floor. It hits the thin, dark grey carpet with a thud before I unzip my team jacket and hang it on the hook behind the door.

"What's goin' on, bro," Scottie says as best he can with his bottom lip packed tight with chew. "How was practice?"

I bend down and unzip my duffle, digging past extra clothes, tape, and wrist wraps until I find my water bottle tucked against the side. I pull it out, leaving the top flap of the bag open to breathe, then kick it inside the sliding closet door next to Scottie's Razor scooter.

"Not bad." I walk toward my bed, ripping off my hoodie and draping it over my desk chair before setting my empty bottle next to an extra glove on my nightstand. "It's just so fucking cold out."

Scottie nods as I step out of my sneakers and tuck them underneath my bed. "That's winter for ya." He spits into an empty plastic water bottle, staring at me blankly as the brown liquid slides down the inside of the rim.

"Dude, that's gross." I wince, swallowing down my own saliva and shaking my head as I pull off my t-shirt.

"Whatever, you're the athlete. Act like you've never done it."

"Not in my fucking bed, weirdo."

He doesn't respond right away. Instead, he squints as he presses his lips together.

"What?" I snip.

Scottie tilts his head. "Are we in a mood?"

I roll my eyes, sliding my towel from this morning's shower off the post at the foot of my bed. "We?"

He holds my gaze as he slowly brings the top of the water bottle to his mouth, settles it against his bottom lip, and spits again. "My case in point."

I suck in a deep breath and blow it softly through my lips. "I am not in a mood. It's just been another long day. I'm gonna grab a shower."

"Again? Didn't you shower this morning? And then again just now in your fancy baseball facility?"

I scoff playfully, walking past him. "It's called hygiene, bro. Maybe you should try it."