“You were doing good, man – you should’ve quit when you were ahead,” Damian sighed. “If she’s too upset to cook brunch in the morning, you’re taking me out. She’s got me spoiled.”
Libby smacked Fink in the back of the head, causing him to wince. “I’m going home. Tell her to call if she needs me. Idiot.”
Jake waited for the others to go to bed before knocking on Miriam’s door. “Can I come in?” he called. He heard her grumble a response that he assumed was affirmative and stepped inside to find her sprawled face-down on the bed in her pajamas on top of the blankets.
“So Fink is kind of dumb,” Jake remarked casually.
Another grumbled response came from the spot where her face met her pillows. Jake sat down in the desk chair a few feet away from the bed. “He’s right, though – a lot of guys would definitely prefer you over that Mei girl, no question about it.” When he didn’t hear more grumbling, he continued. “Personally, I’d be put off by a girl like her. She seems like...too much, I guess. I like a girl who’s a little bit more tasteful, you know? A girl I could introduce to my mom and sister and not worry that they won’t love her. A girl like Mei might be more...experienced in some areas,” here, he felt awkward, but he soldiered on – “but in the areas where it counts, like personality? You’ve got her beat, I promise.”
He heard a sniffle. “Do not cry,” he warned her. “I’m not equipped to deal with that.”
Her sniffle turned into a laugh as Miriam raised her head from the pillow. “Don’t worry; I won’t do that to you. Although, the next time you come in here alluding to something sexual, maybe you should put a shirt on?”
Jake glanced down at his attire – he was indeed without a shirt, as he was getting ready for bed when he’d decided to check on her, and was only wearing lightweight cotton sleep pants. “Are you implying that you’re not enjoying the view?” he joked, flexing. He only worked out once or twice a week, when Damian and Fink forced him to – they both exercised religiously six days a week – so his body was slightly softer than theirs, and he didn’t have a six-pack or anything like that, but he knew he was in okay shape.
“The view’s just fine,” Miriam snorted, “but it was pretty funny to see your whole body turn red. When you blush, you blush all over.”
“Hey, I’m really hot,” he defended himself. She raised her eyebrows at his choice of words, and he amended, “My body is warm. Wearing unnecessary layers in the summer makes me feel like I’m in an oven. Be glad I’m even wearing pants.”
“Oh, no, take them off,” she deadpanned. “Don’t let me stop you from being comfortable.”
“Okay, sarcasm-face, go to sleep,” Jake shook his head, laughing, as he stood up to leave. He was about to shut his bedroom door when Miriam called, “Wait!” and hopped out of bed and into the hallway to hug him.
“Thanks for being there for me tonight,” Miriam said breathlessly, her cheek pressed against his warm, bare chest. It had been awhile since any girl had touched him at all; it felt nice and he relaxed into her, patting her back, before pulling away.
“You’re welcome,” he replied, smiling down at her. “I don’t think I was really any nicer than usual, though.”
“Oh, please – when I moved in here three months ago, you were such a grump to me.” She paused. “You’re still a grump, but definitely less so. I must be mellowing you out.”
“Well, good – as fun as it is to be grouchy all the time, I’m sure my reputation has improved, thanks to you,” he laughed again. “Now, I don’t know about you, but if I don’t go to bed, I won’t be able to eat any French toast tomorrow, and I was looking forward to that.” He gave her a pointed look.
“French toast. Got it. Order up in about eight hours,” she nodded, grinning up at him before flouncing back to her room. “Good night, Jake!” she called, closing her door.
“Good night,” he replied, shaking his head good-naturedly before shutting his own door.
Chapter Six
At 6:25 on the first Thursday night of the fall semester, Miriam and Jake squabbled over where to sit in the Lyceum, the student union’s large lecture hall. As the only undergrads in the house, they had decided to take a class together. They were both well into their major courses, but each still had a few of the same core requirements left to complete, and had chosen a 3000-level sociology class, since it was one of the few night courses left that fit with both of their schedules, with Miriam working most weeknights and Jake already taking a class on Tuesday nights.
“What do you have against the front row?” Miriam asked exasperatedly, pointing to the bottom of the stairs. “There are five open seats right there!”
Jake grabbed her arm before she could start walking down the stairs. “I don’t like getting stuck down there when class is over – it takes forever to get out. And the professors always stare at you if you sit there. Come on, there’s seats here at the top, by the door.”
“But I can’t see from the top!” she snarled at him, yanking her arm out of his grasp and starting back down the stairs. Jake quickly caught up to her and steered her towards a group of empty seats that finished off a row near the center of the room.
“We’ll compromise, okay? Let’s sit here in the middle, on the end. That way, you can see better, and we’re on the end so we can get out quicker. Okay?” he implored her.
“Ugh, fine,” Miriam sighed, setting her bag down and flopping into the second seat in. Jake collapsed into the end seat as the professor started class.
It was an interesting session. The class was scheduled for one night a week from 6:30 to 9:20, but by 8:00, their professor had let them go with the syllabus and instructions on what to read for their first quiz, which would take place the following week. Jake had always found sociology interesting and felt good about the course – between this class and his Tuesday night English literature class, his semester was shaping up nicely. He stood up to leave and glanced at Miriam to make sure she was ready to go, but she was deep in conversation with a trendy, younger scruffy-haired redhead sitting next to her. Jake cleared his throat to get her attention.
“Oh, Jake,” Miriam turned to him, her eyes sparkling. “This is Braden! He’s an art major, isn’t that cool?”
“So cool,” he answered dryly. “Can we go home now, please? I’m tired.”
“Yes, you big baby; we can go.” She rolled her eyes at him. “Braden, it was really nice meeting you! See you next week!”
“Wait!” Braden stopped her, his hand on her arm, and Jake immediately took note of the fact that his voice was on the higher side. “Um, can I get your number? You know, if you want to get together and study for the quiz...or just hang out...get coffee or something...” he trailed off.
Jake snorted at this kid’s lame attempt at a pick-up, but Miriam was all smiles. “Sure!” She took his phone from his outstretched hand and punched in her number, saving it, before handing the phone back to him. “I work nights at the Willis lab, but I’m usually free on weekends.”
“Great!” He replied excitedly, squeaking a little. “I’ll call you tomorrow!”
Jake led Miriam up the stairs, his hand resting on the small of her back as she shifted her laptop bag on her shoulder. “You shouldn’t have gotten that kid’s hopes up,” he snickered. “He’s never going to leave you alone now.”
/> She gave him a confused look. “What do you mean?’“
He shook his head as they left the Union and began walking home. “You can’t flirt with a kid like that – I know you were just being nice, but I can guarantee you that he thinks you’re actually interested in him.”
“I wasn’t trying to be nice – I mean, obviously, I was, but I’m also legitimately interested in him,” Miriam argued. “He seems sweet!”
“He’s practically an infant!” Jake exclaimed. “I mean, come on, if he’s not a TAMSter, then he’s definitely a freshman.”
“He’s not in TAMS,” she rolled her eyes as they crossed from Welch onto Oak. “He told me he turned eighteen a few weeks ago, and he lives at Bruce; we were talking about that when you said you wanted to go.”
“So he is a freshman, then?” Jake confirmed, and she nodded. “What are you going to do with a freshman? You turn twenty-one next month – he can’t even go to a bar with you.”
“No, but I like to do things other than drink – you know I’m not a big drinker to begin with; I’m sure that won’t change just because it’s legal. And I don’t know yet if it’s even going to be an issue,” she swatted his arm as they got closer to the house. “He might not call.”
***
Braden did call, the very next afternoon while Miriam was having lunch with Jake at Mack’s. “Sure, I’d love to get coffee tonight!” she gushed into the phone as Jake slurped his soup loudly. She gave him a disgusted glance before returning to the phone conversation. “Do you know where Art Six is? It’s only about a five- or ten-minute walk for you...yeah, it’s on Bryan Street – do you want me to just meet you at the dorm?” She threw one of her kettle chips at Jake, who was making faces in an effort to get her to laugh. “Okay, I’ll meet you in the lobby at seven-thirty. Bye!”
“Art Six, huh?” Jake asked as she hung up.
She shrugged. “Jupiter House is a lot further from campus, I don’t like Big Mike’s, and I haven’t been to Art Six in months. I really want a Butterbeer.”
“Seriously? A hot drink when it’s ninety degrees outside?”
“I know, but it’s so good. I wish you guys had something like that on your menu.”
“Tell you what,” Jake offered, “when it starts getting colder, I’ll make it for you myself. It’s pretty easy to do; we have almost all of the ingredients – maybe not the butterscotch chips, but I can just pick those up at the store.”
Miriam grinned at him. “Jake Perry, my hero!”
“Yeah, yeah, drink your soda.” He rolled his eyes. “Listen, if he doesn’t walk you home tonight, just call me and I’ll come get you, okay?”
“Jake, that’s really not necessary,” she protested.
“Yes, it is – I’ve told you a million times, I don’t want you walking home alone,” he argued. “Hopefully, he’ll be enough of a gentleman to walk you home, but if not, you will call me. The lighting is terrible over there at night, and…I worry about you. Promise me you’ll call.”
“Okay, fine, I will,” she sighed. “Fink and Damian don’t give me any crap over this, you know.”
“Fink and Damian don’t read the news,” Jake countered. “I do. And if you paid more attention to the world around you, we wouldn’t keep having this argument.”
Miriam smiled at him, shaking her head as she stood up to go. “Okay, I give up. I need to get home and call Libby – she should be out of class in a few minutes and I need help with my outfit for tonight.”
“What’s wrong with what you have on?” he asked, eyeing her vintage Star Wars tee shirt, thrift store jeans, and beat-up Converse sneakers.
“Please!” she snorted, pulling her bag back onto her shoulder. “This is not a ‘date’ outfit. This is a ‘daytime’ outfit.”
He shrugged. “Whatever. You look kind of adorable, though.”
Miriam laughed. “Thank you, but I don’t think Libby will let me be ‘adorable’ for a first date.” Her phone buzzed. “Oh, that’s her! I’ll see you later.” She tapped her phone to answer it and started talking as she walked out the door.
Once she was safely out of earshot, he pulled his own phone out of his pocket and dialed Fink. “Go for Fink,” the man in question answered tersely.
“Oh, my god, Fink – just say ‘hello,’ would you?” Jake groaned.
“Is that why you’re calling me right now? To complain about my phone greeting? Because I’m trying to work, here.”
“You can get your dad coffee in a minute,” Jake teased him, then sobered. “Listen, Miriam has a date tonight.”
“Ooh, he called?” Fink asked excitedly. “Good for her! Getting back out there. You could take a lesson from her, you know.”
“Yeah, I’ll go date an overgrown high-school kid, too,” he grumbled. “Anyway, they’re going to Art Six. She’s meeting him at his dorm because he can’t find his way out of a paper bag, apparently…maybe we should go and keep an eye on things.”
“What? No!” Fink replied, aghast. “We are not going to spy on her date. It’ll be fine. I’m sure the kid is harmless.” He paused. “Don’t bother asking Damian, either – I just emailed him and told him not to entertain this ridiculous notion of yours.”
“Ugh, you guys suck,” Jake grumbled. “You’re not the least bit concerned? This guy could be a total creeper for all we know.”
“It’s one date,” Fink protested. “Let her handle it. She’s a big girl.”
“I don’t like it,” Jake groaned, hanging up. “He probably won’t even walk her home.”
***
He did walk her home, though. Miriam and Braden showed up at the house around ten to find Jake, Fink, and Damian lounging around the living room, drinking beer and watching Top Gun yet again. An empty pizza box lay on the coffee table.
“Hi, guys!” Miriam called cheerfully as they walked through the door, leading Braden into the living room. Having not seen Miriam before she left for the evening, Jake took in the ‘date’ outfit that Libby had obviously helped her choose – nicer, skinnier jeans than her usual style (and clearly not from the thrift store), a black cleavage-baring top, and silver flip-flops that he remembered Libby giving to Miriam last month after snagging them from a shoot. She had even had Libby paint her nails and toenails a dark red color, and she had makeup on, which was also unusual – Miriam’s usual look was closer to that of a tomboy; you definitely wouldn’t think of her as a girly-girl. He had to admit; she didn’t look ‘adorable.’ He hoped this Braden kid appreciated that she had made such an effort for him – he’d never seen Miriam take so much care with her appearance before.
Braden, for his part, appeared to be smitten already, clutching Miriam’s hand like a little boy would cling to his mother. Jake supposed Braden had tried to look nice, too – his jeans were almost tighter than hers, and his trendy tee shirt was such a bright shade of blue that it had to be new. It looked like he’d even scrubbed his Toms for the occasion.
“Braden, these are my roommates, Fink and Damian, and you met Jake yesterday in class – guys, this is Braden.” Miriam beamed at all of them. Braden waved nervously, his other hand still clinging to Miriam’s like a lifeline.
“Welcome, Braden!”
Fink hopped up from the couch to shake the kid’s free hand. He motioned to the couch, where he’d been sitting alone, Jake and Damian having each claimed a chair. “Have a seat, please, and let us get to know you.”
Braden glanced nervously at Miriam, who nodded encouragingly, and the three of them sat down on the couch. Braden looked around the room, obviously intimidated.
“So, Braden,” Damian began, “I understand you’re a freshman. Pretty ballsy of you to ask out a senior.”
He turned red. “I thought she was a freshman, too,” he admitted, glancing at Miriam. “I mean, Miriam, you do look younger than you are – I would never have guessed that you’re almost twenty-one.” He grinned bashfully at her. “I would’ve asked for your number anyway, though.”
“Well, that’s adorable.” Fink clasped his hands together over his crossed legs. “Tell us some more about yourself. What’s your angle? You know, why are you at UNT, where you’re from, what’s your major – all of the important stuff.”
“Fink, this is not a job interview,” Miriam scolded.
“Sure, it is,” Damian argued. “He’s applying for the position of guy-dating-our-roommate, isn’t he? So we’re the interview panel.” He stared Braden down. “You may proceed with your answers.”
“Um, okay,” Braden answered, obviously uncomfortable and nervous. “Well, I’m from San Angelo, and I came here because my dad went here and the art program is pretty good – I’m a painting-and-drawing major. I live at Bruce – I work there, too, in the cafeteria, every afternoon.”
“What kind of music do you listen to?” Jake spoke up, knowing that this would be important to Miriam. If the kid said indie, she might just let him move in with them. But if it was rap, or something else...
“Screamo, mostly,” he answered, and Miriam visibly winced. Apparently, this hadn’t come up in their conversation throughout the evening – Miriam was not a fan of screamo. Jake felt oddly smug.
“Are you – are you open to other musical genres?” Miriam asked hopefully.
“Sure, I guess,” he shrugged. “I’m not that into music, but I’m always willing to listen to something new.”
“It’s interesting that you should say you’re ‘not that into music,’” Fink mused, using finger quotes. “Our girl here, as you may already know, is a musician. She lives for her work. If you saw her perform, you’d be, in a word, amazed. So we need to know – are you in any way musically inclined? Do you plan an instrument, or sing?”