Page 66 of Whistle

“Was I supposed to?” I wondered. “Was that before or after you told me you hate gays?” I made a humming sound. “Oh, now I remember why I didn’t say anything,” I mused. “It’s because it’s none of your business.”

The vein in his forehead popped out. It looked painful. “Not my business!” he roared. “You sleep three feet from me!”

“Yes. You snore by the way.”

A strangled sound ripped from his throat.

“Don’t worry about me, Ronnie.” I continued, turning back to my bag. “But you should worry about your eyebrows.”

His hand flew up to the caterpillars masquerading as eyebrows. Anger took over his face. That was better. I’d rather see anger than disgust.

“No,” he said, shaking his head adamantly. “No way. I’m not living with you.”

“We aren’t living together.” I corrected him. As if I’d ever live with him. “More like keeping our stuff in the same place.”

He went to the door and flung it open. “You’re moving out.” He pointed into the hall.

He was lucky I was already tired. Otherwise, I’d make his life hell.

“I don’t think so,” was all I said. “But I am going to the library.”

“I was here first!”

Slinging my bag over my shoulder, I went to the door and patted his chest. He yanked away as if I had some type of disease. I told myself it didn’t bother me.

“Please,” I mused. “You are so not my type.”

He stared at me like I had four heads, and I pulled the door closed behind me. The second it was between us, I leaned back against it, giving myself a moment to breathe air not poisoned with hatred. I knew this was coming. I mean, he’d made it pretty clear from the moment we met.

I’d just been hoping it would take a little longer.

I glanced down at my loose ripped jeans and shirt. “Stupid crop top,” I muttered.

I could have not worn it, but my roommate could also not be a dick.

Wait. He was adamantly against dicks. A vagina, then.

Someone walked down the hall, and I pushed off the door and headed to the exit. The second I stepped out into the fading afternoon sun, I realized I’d forgotten my charger. I really did plan on hitting the library to get a head start on some of the coursework already outlined in my class syllabi, so I definitely needed it.

But the thought of going back there so soon made me hesitate.

Fuck that. I might hate it, but that was my room too, and if I needed something, I had a right to get it. Besides, if I left without the charger now, I’d have to come back a lot sooner. Better to grab it now and stay gone longer.

Mind made up, I went back into the building while digging my keycard out of my bag. The lock clicked, and I pushed the door open. A body jolted up, then froze in surprise.

It took a moment for me to realize what I was seeing.

I blinked. Then blinked again.

Shame, anger, and betrayal slammed into me, a triple blow that left my cheeks stinging. The bag slid off my shoulder and fell to my feet.

“What the hell are you doing?” My voice sounded completely stunned.

Ronnie glanced down at his hands, which were filled with colorful fabrics and blue lace dangling from one of his fingers. “You’re sick,” he said, lifting his gaze.

“Me?” I said, horrified. “You’re the one in here going through my drawers!”

“It’s a good thing I did!” he roared. “Look!” he said, shaking his fists, making some of the silk slip onto the floor. “You’re a crossdresser!”

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