The Truth About That Summer

eighty-six

Apparently I was not quiet like I tried to be.

Hunter faced me on his bed, a look of faux concern on his features, as he told me that he was kicking me out of his apartment.

"Today was weird, Dyl, like what was going on in there?" He stared at me, less caring about what was wrong and more about explaining my behavior to his roommates. It's laughable how transparent he is, but then, that is why I chose him to be around.

Hair fell into my eyes as I shook my head. "Nothing, I just-"

"It didn't sound like nothing." He grimaced. "It sounded like you were crying."

My face pulled into a scowl. God forbid I cried in the only private place in the apartment, right? God forbid a girl ever cry and make a guy uncomfortable.

"It's fine." I crossed my arms. "I'm fine."

"Well," Hunter looked like my well-being wasn't really the point of the conversation anyways. "It's just that me and the other guys were talking..." He gave me a wide-eyed look, like he wanted me to finish his sentence for him. When I didn't, he sighed at the inconvenience. "It was a long shower, Dylan. Like, really long. And you aren't paying any rent..." He shrugged, his expression adding "Or putting out" so that his words didn't have to.

"I'll be quicker." I mumbled, feeling chastised and humiliated, but somehow missing the point.

"The thing is, Dyl, I think it's time for you to leave."

"Oh," I sputtered as his words settled in. "Oh."

What else was there to say?

"Look, I'm sorry, it's just that you're different than you were before. We're different," He gestured between our bodies and I knew for sure that he was upset about the lack of sex, "And this is a really weird situation for me. The semester starts next week and..."

But I didn't hear him after that, already knew what he's getting at anyways.

The semester starts soon and nothing stops drunk freshmen girls from going home with a guy quite like his crazy ex-girlfriend bumming it in his bed.

He rambled on and on, and the entire time I was thinking about the apartments I was looking at all week.

There was a place I could afford - just a room in someone else's house - a young couple who are rarely home, or so they say - and I made a plan to give them a call once I was done here with Hunter.

That was about a week ago now.

Tucking my legs beneath my body, knees noticeably knobbier than a few months ago, I rest my chin on my knees and stare at the TV screen.

The couple I'm renting my room from, Harry and Patrick, are really never home. They didn't ask many questions and after seeing a sad girl with little to her name, they correctly assumed I wouldn't give them any trouble.

In exchange for ridiculously low rent, they give me a room, and access to the kitchen - whether it's stocked depends on their travel schedules. I wouldn't really know, I've mostly picked at peanut butter sandwiches since I've been here.

They ask that if anything goes awry, I give them a call. But the neighborhood is nice and the complex has a maintenance man so there haven't been any problems so far.

My fingers wrap around my bare wrist, twisting even more now that the cord is gone than when the leather strap was still there. Gaze drifting from the screen, some romantic comedy I think, I notice the little rash I'm giving myself and dutifully sit on my hands.