Page 2 of Weak Side

College books were expensive, and quite frankly, it wasn’t fair. Three hundred dollars for a book that I’d use a handful of times? It was just unethical at that point.

“It’s the male floor, though. My brother used to live in this dorm before he got his apartment.”

I stopped walking for a split second, freezing at a standstill on the third step from the top of the stairway that led to the hall that reeked of too many different types of colognes. There was a hint of AXE body spray, and I was suddenly transported back to freshman year of high school, after Christmas break, when every boy in my grade seemed to get three gallons of it under their tree.

I hesitated before asking, “Wait, what?”

“Yeah.” Taytum stepped beside me, and our eyes met. “This is the male floor. Females on floor one, males on floor two, females on floor three, and males on floor four.”

“I thought this was an all-girls dorm.” Skepticism began to seep through my pores, as if my skin was deprived of that very thing.

“Not Dorothy Hall. I’m pretty sure some of Emory’s friends live on the second floor,” Taytum whispered, moving closer to me as a skyscraper of a man jogged down the stairs, eye-fucking her for several long seconds before smirking and continuing on his way.

Heat blasted my cheeks, and I cursed under my breath. “In any other world, I would assume this was a joke, but it’s me, and the world has a way of shitting on me every chance it gets.”

Taytum stayed quiet as we continued on our way to our final destination, which—surprise, surprise—was a hallway full of jocks.

Each set of eyes swung our way, and Taytum—being the total knockout that she was and used to jocks because her older brother, Emory, played on Bexley U’s hockey team—straightened her shoulders and put on her bestdon’t-fuck-with-meface as we walked in silence until we stood in front of room 213.

“Check your email again,” she said, looking over at me as snickers came in every direction. I was pretty certain I heard a catcall, too, but that may have been my overactive imagination.

Instead of checking my email, I put my key in the keyhole, and sure enough, the door opened right up. Again, our eyes met, and Taytum began laughing hysterically. I, however, did not. “Are you sure you don’t want to join my sorority? You get your own room.”

I shot her a look of annoyance and let the door shut behind me, glancing at the glow of the lamp on the desk to the right. There were already books stacked on top and a black bag on the floor beside the somewhat lumpy bed. The comforter was navy, and you could tell right away that it was a male’s room. Not a single twinkle light was hung, and everything was somoody.

“I’ve had my fair share of roomies,” I started, following Taytum as she put my box on the desk opposite of the one on the right. “The emo girl who left her straightener on during our freshman year and almost burnt down the entire building. Then there was the swimmer who made everything smell like chlorine.”

“And the girl who Chad hated with a passion because she tried to drag you to frat parties every weekend.” Taytum threw her blonde hair into a bun on top of her head. “Ohwait, Chad hates everyone that gets close to you.”

Taytum wasn’t wrong. My boyfriend did hate everyone that got close to me. He was the jealous type, and it was my least favorite thing about him.

“Anyway,” I interrupted her, moving past the discussion of Chad, who Taytum loathed. “I’ve never had a male roomie, so this has got to be a first.”

“And a mistake,” Taytum clarified, putting her hands on her hips. “Is that even allowed? I mean, we’re all adults here, but I don’t think males and females room together at Bex U. Other colleges? Maybe. But at Bex U?

“You need to go talk to admissions before you move any more boxes in here. It had to have been a mistake. Come on.” She took the box from my hands and put it on the desk. Then her hands found my shoulders, and she spun me around and pushed me out the door. “I’ll go with you in case they try to walk all over your sweet little personality.”

“I can be stern when I need to be.”

Taytum rolled her eyes. “Mmhm. Let’s go. I can be there for moral support if you so deem it appropriate that you handle this yourself like you do every other situation in your life.”

She and I walked down the hall, ignoring every male who looked as if they belonged in a locker room instead of a dormitory, half of them glistening in sweat from a practice or workout, and the other half looking like they were ready to go to the club at 2 p.m. on a Tuesday afternoon.

2

Claire

After goingthrough the five stages of grief, acceptance finally made itself known, just like the pit in my stomach.

“You are welcome to live off campus, Claire. But unfortunately, this is something that cannot be fixed right now.”

“What do you mean it can’t be fixed? She’s been going to this school for three years. How do you just randomly screw up her name?”

I scrolled back to my email and held back another defeated laugh as I read the information given.

Name: Bryant Claire (Partial Scholarship - Performing Arts/Dance)

Major: Art of Dance

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