Chapter 2

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Life can be funny sometimes, especially when your me. Of all the things to happen to me, I never expected for Keaton to be my roommate. This will certainly make things more interesting. I have resolved myself to the idea of having him partly to myself everyday for the next year. I can only surmise that this will bring my writing to a whole new level. I smile to myself as I ponder on my predicament.

My parents have left and now it's just me and him. I am just about finished unpacking and settling in when Keaton comes over to me and says, "Hey, names Keaton and you're Balin right?" I give him what I am sure is a dumbfounded look as the realization hits me that he knows my name. Like the great scholar I am I reply, "U um, yes. Nice to meet you!" Great, I have lost IQ points just in the few minutes we have been in our room, I think to myself as I mentally smack myself in the head.

"Can you help me move the last of these few boxes?", he asks me and ofcourse, I shake my head in agreement as my ability to speak escapes me. Keaton has this amazing ability to look right into your eyes when directly speaking and right now his eyes have robbed me of my speech.

You see, it's not just that he is the most popular boy in school or that his family comes from very, very, very old money. Keaton has the audacity to be near perfect. At seventeen, he is 6'3", about 180 pounds of pure muscle upon muscle. Straight boys are jealous of his physique! He has thick, straight black hair that he keeps at just the right length for it to be considered sexy bed hair. His facial features are so stunning in that absolutely masculine sort of way but the true beauty are his eyes. I don't know if they are grey or blue but they are so clear that I swear if one tear were to ever shed from them, your heart would just break. Then ofcourse, the thing that puts him above all the rest is Keaton's soul. He trully is almost perfect and this is why I am lost to him.

I walk over to where the few boxes are just outside our door. I pick one up and just as I think I have a good grip on it, the whole box collapses. The bottom opens up and a bunch of books fall on and around my feet. Now I am in a bit of pain but I look over to Keaton to apologize when I gasp as the sight before me takes me completely by surprise. He is blushing. No, not just blushing. His cheeks are so deeply pink that one would swear to look upon his face you would have to think he was wearing make-up.

With my curiosity now peaked, I then look back down to my feet and that's when I notice them. Tens upon tens of paperback novels but no, not just any books. Mine! They are all my books. He has everything I have ever written under B. Dale. Oh my God. I look back up to Keaton's face and he says to me in what sounds like an embarrissing tone, "That is my favorite author and before you say anything I just hope you don't have a problem with me being gay." I finally find my voice and reply, "No, I don't care about your sexual orientation however, why is B. Dale your favorite author. I really didn't peg your for a gay romance novel reader."

To my utter shock he responds, "Quite simply, because this author speaks to my soul!"

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