“Next Stop, Forbes and Atwood!” The bus’s system sounded, and I grabbed my bag and stood to my feet.

Like a zombie, I walked into my dorm and rummaged for my keys. Unable to find them, I knocked on the door and waited for my roommate, Judy-April, to let me in.

Several seconds passed, and there was no answer, but I could hear her playing her typical emo-music.

For some strange reason, she’d had it out for me ever since move-in day. I’d tried so hard to be nice—hoping for a Hail Mary when it came to a last-ditch friendship, but it was no use.

She took one look at me, declared the bedroom on the left hers, and outside of a “Just pretend that she’s not here,” that she uttered when her friends came over, she never spoke to me again.

I knocked again, louder this time. “Judy-April, I just saw you go into our room. Can you please just let me in?”

She still didn’t answer.

“Judy-April?” I tugged on the door handle. “I accidentally locked my key inside, so could you please open the door?”

There was no answer, and before I could bang even harder, I noticed a pink post-it note sliding under the door.

I stooped down to pick it up, squinting at her super curly handwriting.

 

* * *

 

You’re a senior.

It’s not my job to be your mother.

If you lost your keys, tough shit.

What would you do if I wasn’t here?

* * *

 

Think about that.

* * *

 

ALSO: I’m already doing you a HUGE favor by not telling the R.A.s about your little friend that you’re not supposed to have.

* * *

 

The moment I finished reading the note, she cracked the door open a bit—just wide enough to let out my grey and white kitten, Julia.

Then she slammed it shut and locked it again.

As if she needed to drive home her point any further, she’d draped a note around Julia’s neck.

 

* * *

 

You’re welcome.

* * *

 

P.S. Panther Central will remake you a key for 20 bucks.

* * *

 

Ugh!

Ten minutes later, I waited in line at Panther Central, trying not to doze off in between the receptionist flirting with the group of guys ahead of me.

Just as I was about to pass out, everyone’s phones sounded at the same time. A cacophony of buzzing and ringing filled the room.

We all tapped our screens.

 

* * *

 

Mass Student Memo: Delete After Reading

* * *

 

The real fucking bonfire will be held on Oakwood Street to celebrate this year's first season win.

* * *

 

8:00pm—until

* * *

 

$8 tickets

$4 shots

$3 discount for girls who show up in wet-T-shirts

* * *

 

Hail to Pitt!

* * *

 

P.S. Wear tennis shoes just in case the cops shut it down.

* * *

 

“Fuck yeah!” The guy ahead of me yelled. Then he turned around.

“Oh whoa.” He looked me up and down. “Will I be seeing you there tonight?”

“No, never.”

“Well, would you like to make a private bonfire with me then?”

I moved past him and his friends and slammed my I.D. onto the counter. “Can you get me a replacement key for my place and then get back to flirting with these guys, please?”

“Is that a kitten in your hand?” The receptionist narrowed her eyes at me. “If it is, you may want to wait patiently until I get done talking to the people ahead of you….”

I held back a groan and stepped back.

I waited for an entire hour before I was able to return home and pass out in my bed.

Kyle: Then

Senior Year

Pittsburgh

“Grayson, I’m giving you five minutes to get to this bonfire, or I’m locking you out of our apartment tonight.” I left a second voicemail on his phone as huge flames hissed and cackled in the middle of Oakwood Street.

Usually, I would be drinking and dancing near the edge of the fire to celebrate our first season win, but all I could think about was the cheerleader I’d tackled at the student union a few days ago.

Not because anything was there—and not because she was sexy as hell, but because that was the most action I’d gotten so far this semester.

Two and half weeks with no sex—not even a blowjob, was a personal record.

I distinctly remembered having a crush on her during my freshman and sophomore years, but I always knew better than to approach her off the field.

For one, she always threw up her middle finger whenever I winked at her from the sidelines. For two, I’d seen her a few times on dates at coffee shops with a guy who looked much older, which confirmed that she was the “good girl” type. The exact opposite of the type I wanted.

Still, the “I’m turned on, but I refuse to admit it” look on her face when she realized that I was on top of her was going to play on a loop in my mind for days to come, if I didn’t break my record soon.

To make matters worse, Sports Illustrated: College Football had randomly decided to release a special cover edition that featured the back of my jersey and the words “Next Year’s Potential Draft Class: What They’re Worth,” as its main story.

There wasn’t a single quote from me in the article, but the numbers that were being discussed were “expert verified,” so quite a few people on campus had asked me about them.

One of my professors said, “I guess my claim to fame will be teaching a guy who’s already worth twenty-million.” A junior I’d met at a bar rubbed my chest mid-conversation and whispered, “I think you’re worth double what they say.” A woman I’d met on Carnegie Mellon’s campus was seconds away from getting invited back to my place until she said, “If you need any help investing any of the money you’ll get from your first set of endorsements, I’ll always be here for you.”

People have lost their damn minds.

“Come do a few shots with us, Kyle!” My teammate, Josh, suddenly tossed a can of Coke to me.

I walked over to him and picked up a bottle of vodka.” Is it me or do tonight’s flames look a lot higher than they did in previous years?”

“They’re definitely a lot higher.” He patted me on the back. “We used five gallons of gasoline this time.”

“You used how many?”

“Five.” He furrowed his brow. “Why is your face losing all of its color, Kyle? You feeling sick?”

“I told you that we only needed one gallon for this, Josh. One gallon.”

“Well, maybe I got a little too hype after our ‘W’ to remember that.” He smiled. “Is it really that big of a deal? I didn’t add them all at once or anything. It was a gradual process, like the line of girls who are currently waiting for me to stop by their rooms later tonight.”