Hunter and I barely saw each other for the rest of the week. I assumed he went and hung out at Mase’s, but I didn’t know for sure because he barely said twenty words to me. When he did come and sleep at the apartment he always arrived after I was out and left before I woke. I didn’t know how he did it, but he was like a shadow, sneaking in and out.
When I did see him, he pretended not to see me. Darah and Renee noticed, but after making inquiries, which Hunter and I both shot down, they stopped asking.
Friday afternoon finally came, as did my meeting with Marissa.
I had to wait ten full minutes before Marissa finally opened her door and called me in. Her office was nasty-neat and could have been a stock image for what an administrative office should look like with the generic watercolor print and motivational poster. Gag.
She adjusted her glasses on her nose before sitting behind her desk, absentmindedly straightening her wrist rest. Everything about her was orderly: her short hair, crisp shirt and flat expression.
“So, what can I do for you, Taylor? You said you were having an issue with one of your roommates.” She leaned forward and braced her arms on the desk.
I gave her the rundown, leaving out a lot of what Hunter had done. I wasn’t repeating what he said, word for word.
“So he makes you uncomfortable? Have you tried talking with him about it?”
“Yes, I have,” I said. Her face had been blank when I’d told my sob story, and I could tell this was going to be a dead end. I could just feel it. But maybe I was being pessimistic.
“Have you gone to your resident director? They are always available to talk or discuss disputes, and they have training on how to help with those situations.” It was like banging my head against a brick wall.
“I was really hoping that this could just be resolved, seeing as how it was a mistake to begin with.”
“Well, there isn’t really anything we can do right now. Unless there is an emergency, we have to keep places available for those who really need them. It sounds like it’s more of a personality conflict. I’m going to recommend that you have some mediation with your RD, and you can come and see me in a few weeks, okay?”
I wanted so, so much to say, “Are you fucking serious?” but that wouldn’t have helped my case.
“So there’s nothing you can do?”
“Not unless there is a direct threat. Has he threatened you? Don’t be afraid to speak up.”
I thought about it for half a second, but I knew if I told her Hunter had threatened me, then he would get in trouble and could get kicked out of school. Campus security would get involved, and he could even get arrested. As much as the image of Hunter in jail amused me, I couldn’t be the one to put him there if he didn’t deserve it. Seeing as how I was the one who technically assaulted him.
I was stuck.
“No, he hasn’t.”
“Okay. Here’s my card. Never hesitate to call us if it’s an emergency. Sounds like you two just need to have a chat. I’ll have your RD contact you about setting up some mediation.” She stood and held out her hand, effectively ending the meeting. I had no choice but to stand, shake her hand and leave with her card clutched in my hand.
What a fucking waste of time.
I didn’t know why I had expected anything more. In a university with around twelve thousand undergraduate students, I was a number. That was why I’d chosen UMaine instead of a smaller college. Now I was paying for it.
I stormed back to the apartment. Darah had gone home for the weekend to celebrate her mom’s birthday, so she was already gone. Renee had a nursing group meeting, so I knew if anyone was going to be there, it would be Hunter.
I tried not to slam the door but failed.
“Rough day?” a male voice said.
I glanced at the couch to find him sitting there with his guitar. I held my composure for a second. “You’re on,” I said, walking over to him and sticking my hand in his face. “The bet, you’re on.”
He stared at my hand for a second, and a slow smile spread across his face. “Once we shake hands there is no going back.”
I nodded, but I pulled my hand back before he could touch me. “There have to be some parameters. This whole thing about loving and hating can’t be proved. I told you I hated you and punched you, but you didn’t believe it. If I said I loved you right now, you wouldn’t believe me. So how do we measure this?”
“It’s harder to say you love someone than to say you hate them. So you have to say the words. And they have to be real.”
“How will you know they’re real?”
He shrugged. “I’ll know. You’ll know.”
“And the hate part?”
“I’ll know you hate me when I see that look in your eyes. I’ve seen it before, and I’ll know.”
“So you’re going to determine this. I have no say?” I balled my hands at my sides, wanting to hit him.
“I’m not forcing you to accept this. You can call housing and tell them that I’m sexually harassing you. They’ll drag me to a disciplinary hearing and probably kick me out of school. You could say the word right now. But you aren’t going to do that.”
“I can’t,” I said. As much as it would get him out of my life. “You’re a jerk, but you’re not that. If you were, I would have gotten rid of you so fast, your head would have spun around.”
“Exactly. You’re not a girl who puts up with anything. You can take care of yourself—you showed me that on the first night. You’ll let me know when I’ve gone too far.”
“I will.”
“Okay then.”
“Okay,” I said, and we shook hands. I tried to let go, but he took my hand and pulled me so I crashed into his chest.
“So, here we are. You’re stuck with me until Christmas,” he breathed.
He let go of my hand, and I stepped back. It was not an easy thing to do. My body was drawn to his like the opposite pole of a magnet.
“You think you’re the one who makes my life difficult. I can make it so much worse for you,” I said, smiling sweetly. His blue eyes were skeptical.
“How so?”
“You really want to know? I’m going to invite a bunch of girls over, and we’re going to watch girlie movies and talk about our periods and burn all kinds of scented candles and we’ll probably stay up all night giggling.”
“When do the naked pillow fights and making out start?”
I smacked his shoulder. “You pig, that’s not what happens at sleepovers unless they’re in the movies. But Darah and Renee and I can gang up on you. You have no idea how bad it could be.”
“What makes you think any of that would make me uncomfortable?” he said, throwing a wrench in my spur-of-the-moment plan to get him back.
“Because all guys run away when girls start talking about their menstrual cycles. You’re supposed to run away now.”
He stepped closer to me. “Doesn’t bother me.”
“Tampon,” I said.
He took another step.
“Cramps. Bloating. Heavy flow.”
His chest was almost touching my nose. I tipped my head back to meet his eyes. He didn’t blink. I could almost feel the cotton of his shirt against my skin. He slowly reached up and put his thumbs on either side of my face.
“Keep