Page 36 of Tapped By My Roommate
I was afraid it wouldn’t. It was both the scariest and most exciting sensation. For so long, I’d played it safe in life. I didn’t ask a girl out unless I got to know her first and was certain she was interested in me. I was a polite gentleman. I did what was expected of me at all times; so much so, that my research partner took advantage of me.
This was different though. This was new and exciting. And Rhett had been right all along. Doing it with him—rather than a stranger—didn’t make it less bold. If anything, anonymity might have been easier. Rhett was someone I knew, someone I admired. Someone who inspired my heart to race and my body to react.
Someone I’d have to face after the deed was done.
I hoped it wasn’t a disaster. But I couldn’t bring myself to back out. I needed to see this through. I needed to know what it would be like to do more than kiss Rhett Hayes.
* * *
RHETT
My cursor was my enemy. I stared at it, blinking-blinking-blinking at me, and I wanted to throw my whole laptop into the garbage. I turned my gaze to the list of questions Professor Crawford had assigned in my Algorithm Design and Analysis class.
“You only have to solve one per week,” he’d said in a cheery tone, as if he were offering us a treat instead of a guide to self-torture.
I re-read the two questions that I was deliberating this week—attempting to choose the lesser of two evils.
Using roofline analysis, what is the provably fastest implementation of a fixed-size matrix-matrix multiplication algorithm on an architecture?
What are the pros and cons of using neural networks and genetic algorithms to balance power at runtime across massively parallel simulations?
Nope. Still didn’t have the first clue where to start. To say that I didn’t enjoy my area of study was an understatement. When I enrolled, I’d wanted a degree track that would quickly lead to a high-paying job, so that I could help support Cary and Audrey as they graduated high school. But I’d come to hate computer science with a passion nearly equaling Ethan’s enthusiasm for his wildlife biology study.
The entry-level courses hadn’t been so bad—I’d enjoyed the digital foundations, media literacy, and social media ethics courses that were part of my degree’s larger core requirements, which also overlapped with journalism, public relations, and design programs. But the further I advanced in the curriculum, the more difficult it became to twist my brain around these problem-solving riddles my professors doled out.
I spent twenty minutes flipping through my textbook at the carrel where I’d stationed myself in the study center. The center offered tutoring services too—but I hadn’t yet signed up. I wanted to believe I could do this on my own. Besides, I wasn’t sure how advanced their tutors were and whether any of them could help with high-level computer science assignments.
As late as I’d studied the night before, I’d been too distracted to tackle this particular assignment—or the one after it. I was falling behind, and I desperately needed to focus. At home, I’d be too tempted to grab a nap, or play a video game to relax. Here, the cubicle desk blocked out everything else, and I could get more done.
But it wasn’t helping much today. Time was ticking, work would soon be calling, and my head felt stuffed with wool. The textbook was information overload.
I growled in frustration and dug through my backpack for a spiral notebook containing scribbled notes I’d taken in class in the hope I’d find some clues there. I was the only student not taking notes on my laptop—but I really needed to focus on the professor upfront, not a screen, if I wanted to absorb anything being said.
As it was, my skull was still too dense, because I was struggling.
Another notebook in my bag caught my eye. Ethan’s notebook. I gave in to the urge to flip it over and read again the list Ethan had made—with a few additions from Linh. I’d read it twice already, and I really shouldn’t let myself get sidetracked, but today was a lost cause already.
My gaze went to that familiar, blocky writing of Ethan’s. In the list of what Ethan wanted to try, he’d written:
Kiss/make out
See Rhett naked
Touch Rhett
Hand job
Blow job
Frotting(?)
In pink gel pen, Linh had added:Wall sex! Edging! Bonda—
The last word devolved into a scribble, and I could picture Ethan shoving her hand.
I smirked, wondering how exactly it had gone down that Ethan had let her see this list. He was so shy with me when talking about sex. It seemed odd he’d let Linh watch over his shoulder. Then again, she probably hadn’t asked. I could easily picture Linh walking up behind him and reading it before he could hide the page. Then she’d insist on contributing.
Ethan had scribbled under her notes,NO,with three exclamation marks. He’d underlined it twice. I guess that meant kink was out—which was fine by me. I was a pretty vanilla guy.
