Rm w/a Vu(2)

By: A. D. Ryan



After the inevitable fight, Ben will come crawling back—he always does—and he’ll have with him flowers or a gift of some sort. Instead of just acknowledging the argument, Ben always throws money at the problem in hopes it’ll go away, but it really only insults me. Then we wind up in bed together. That sex isn’t usually so bad. He’s usually a little more tender and giving. Not always, but on occasion.

As I make my way, I pull my cell phone out of my pocket and dial Ben’s number. There’s no answer, leading me to believe he’s probably on his way over and I’ll have to cancel our date face-to-face. With a sigh, I enter the building that my room is in and trudge down the hall. The closer I get, the more clearly I make out what sounds like breathless moans coming from this year’s roomie, Delilah, inside. This isn’t new; Delilah has a reputation, and apparently she feels the need to uphold it.

A flare of annoyance rises in me because I can’t just walk into the room. Well, I suppose I could, but walking in on someone having sex isn’t something I particularly enjoy doing. I’m pretty sure I still suffer from a mild case of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder after seeing my mom and dad on the kitchen counter the last time I dropped by the house to say hi.

You can bet your ass I called from that point on.

Dropping my book bag to the floor with a heavy thud, I lean against the wall. I slide down until I’m sitting on the hard tile with my elbows on my knees and my hands in my hair. Other students walk by, going to and from their rooms and the washrooms, and every time one of them looks down at me, I feel like an animal on display at the zoo. They probably think I’ve locked myself out. Of course, if they know my roommate—which most of the male population does—they know what’s really going on.

The sounds coming from behind the thin door are escalating. People are staring, not just at me now, but at the door too. I blush, offering each and every one of them a shrug, only to be met with sympathetic eyes. If I could afford private housing, I would be there in a second.

“Oh, yes!” I clench my eyes shut, hearing Delilah’s mounting cries. “Fuck me harder! Oh, you like it dirty, big boy?”

Good grief. I know Delilah is a little freaky, but I didn’t think she was into reenacting bad porn.

As if hearing her cry out in the throes of whatever-the-hell it is she’s doing isn’t enough, I’m now being subjected to the low, guttural grunts of her male partner. I bury my face in my hands, gripping my hair at the roots and tapping my foot against the crappy tile rapidly, trying to think of more pleasant things than what’s really going on in there.

“Oh…oh…OOOOOOOH!”

Aaaaaaaand, she’s done. Lifting my face from my knees, I smooth down the front of my hair because I know it’s probably standing up from the rough tugging. This won’t be the last time something like this will happen, and I know I should look into moving rooms. I wait a few minutes, really enjoying the silence coming from our room as I assume they’re getting dressed. I’m confident in this assumption because Delilah seems about as cuddly as a porcupine.

Finally, Delilah’s laugh is heard from behind the door, and it sounds like she’s getting ready to kick her latest tryst out. “That was great. I don’t know why we don’t do this more often.”

Not wanting her to think that I’ve been out here eavesdropping like some kind of pervert, I stand up and try to make it look like I’ve just got impeccable timing. I grab the shoulder strap to my book bag, lifting it at the exact moment that the door swings open. What I see on the other side stuns me. Or should I say whom…?





Chapter 2



“B—Ben?” I blink because I must be seeing things, but when I open my eyes again…and then again, I’m staring directly into the faces of my bitch of a roommate and my lying, sack of shit boyfriend. “What the hell?”

“Hey, Jules,” he says, smiling suddenly. His eyes still show just how shocked he is to find me here. Outside my room. “I came by to see you. Delilah and I got to talking.”

“I was in class. You knew that.” I don’t think I’ve blinked again, and my eyes are drying out.

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