Page 2 of Dear Pink

On the fourth floor, people leave their doors open, and different music blares from the rooms, filling the halls with a cacophony of sounds. My dorm back in Texas isn’t much different, but the Art Institute has way cooler residences. Everyone here lives in an artist loft.

“Hey, do I know you?” A tall blond Viking tugs on my arm as I walk by.

“Nope,” I say, my cheeks growing warm at his forwardness.

He points his camera at me and takes a few pictures. “You sure we didn’t hook up last week?”

“Wasn’t me.”

His eyes travel from my face to my suede ankle boots. “Wanna hook up now?” He grabs my hand and twirls me around like a dancer. Libby wasn’t lying. The photography majorsareflirts.

“No, thanks. I’m here to visit Jack. Is his room at the end of the hall?”

“My man, Jack-O. Yeah, but I saw him leave a few minutes ago. The dude never locks his door. Go in. He won’t care. Or, you can wait for him in my room if you want some studly company?” He takes another picture of me. “Stay and be my muse tonight.”

I laugh. “As tempting as your offer is, I’ll wait by myself.”

The flirt is correct. Jack’s door is unlocked. I push it open and yank my backpack off my shoulders. A moan captures my attention.

“Right there. Don’t stop. Right. Oh. Right there.” It’s Jack’s voice. There’s a lump in the bed. God, did I catch him masturbating? How embarrassing. I backpedal toward the hall when a female voice moans.

“Jack. Ohhhhh yes, Jack.”

I drop my bag on the floor with a loud thump. “You’ve got to be fucking joking with this shit,” I say. My voice sounds like a demon conjured it.

Jack jumps out of bed buck naked and spins around to face me. “Hannah? What’re you doing here?”

“Apparently watching you screw someone else, Jack-Ass.”

He steps toward me, his condom-covered penis slowly drooping.

I retreat a couple of steps. “Don’t come near me.”

A goth girl pokes her head out of the covers. “Hey, what’s up?” she asks, oblivious to the scene playing out in front of her.

“Are you kidding me?” I say to Jack and point at her. “I can’t even.”

“Hannah, baby.”

“Baby?” I take a stapler off the desk and throw it at his dick.

He dodges to the left. “Shit. Hannah. What are you doing?”

“What am I doing?” My feet are glued to the floor. I’m paralyzed. The goth gets out of bed, naked except for an elaborate tattoo of a snake wrapping its tail around her body. “What am I doing? I thought I was visiting my boyfriend. The guy who loves me so damn much. The guy I’ve dated for four years, and who said last night he missed me every waking moment.” I grab a coffee mug and throw it at his stomach. It misses and crashes to the floor, shattering.

“Geez, your girlfriend’s mental,” Goth says.

“Mental?” I grab his laptop and hold it over my head. “You want to see mental?”

I throw his computer at the exposed brick wall and smirk as it falls to the floor.

“Hannah, calm down.”

“Calm down? You’re standing in front of me naked with a condom-covered limp dick. Give me a freaking break. Four years of my life. I gave you four years so you could screw around the minute I was gone?”

“Well, we’ve been apart for three months,” Jack says as a lame excuse.

“I’m not here because I didn’t get accepted to the Art Institute, you Jack-Crust. You Jack-Off. You Jack-Jerk.” My screams reverberate against the floor-to-ceiling windows.

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