The Way We Talk

In the last week alone, I have made the walk of shame from Ivory three times.

While not the farthest distance that one can trek at that time of the morning, especially since I'm heading to class, not my dorm, it's certainly suspicious for a freshman to be exiting at seven-fifty. After all, Christian has a girlfriend, and I've recently acquired a collection of t-shirts that clearly aren't mine.

Most the time, Sammy only sends me a knowing look as she greets me after the first round of classes is over. However, this time, she confronts me about it.

"So, you and Christian have been spending a lot of time together," she mentions as I stroll in the door in a Glamour Kills t-shirt this time.

I nod, setting my purse down on my bed. She turns in her desk chair, giving me that same look. "Yeah, we're getting to be really, really good friends," I reply lamely as she chuckles, shaking her head.

"Looks like a lot more than that, Erica. It's okay to admit that you're dating him."

"I'm not," I protest, "He has a girlfriend. We're just really good friends."

She sends me that look again. "And the plot thickens. Seriously, what are you doing? You sleep over his dorm every other night it seems - and I assume that you're not crashing on his floor -, you're wearing his clothes, and he's dating someone. That sounds bad. That's how rumors get started."

I sigh. "I know. But I swear that I'm not hooking up with him, I swear."

There's a moment's worth of silence after that. We're not mad at each other or fighting. We're not like that. I know she's just worried about me; she's a good roommate and I'm at serious risk of butchering my reputation.

The truth is, nothing is going on between Christian and I. But it doesn't look that way. After all, I've acquired half of his t-shirts and one of his hoodies. We're just friends, but we look a little too friendly.

"So, what are you plans for Thanksgiving?" I ask in an attempt to switch around the conversation to a more benign subject.

"Heading back home," she responds, her attention back to her computer screen, which I notice is on the Amtrack website. She's printing her ticket, I bed. "I miss New York."

I grin. "Same on both. Heading back to Maine but I almost miss the city."

She giggles at that. "NYC is NYC," I nod in agreement, though she doesn't see me, "Any exciting plans for home?"

I lean back on my bed, closing my eyes. "Visiting friends, probably a party at Katrina's, driving my car around, and a lot of turkey, you?" I reply, grinning. As much as I complained about it while I lived their, I miss my homestate. Well, it's more missing my friends, but still.

She sighs. "Same, pretty much. Hoping me and Jeremy have that talk." I nod at that; I have my hopes up for her. Sammy and I initially bonded over our nearly identical relationship statuses- we'd just broken up with our senior year boyfriends, but we have no clue what's going to happen with them when we're home again. Sammy and Jeremy are on much better terms than Dave and I's own passive-aggressive ones, yet there is still that large insinuation that something could happen.

God, I just really need to get home.

--

Truth be told, I don't like traveling alone. I never know what to pack, how much to pack, what time to leave.

Naturally, I always overpack, forget something important, and show up at least an hour before I need to.

I drum my fingers on the armrest as i sit at my gate, listening to Too Late The Hero and waiting for my boarding call. They'll start in five minutes of so, or at least I hope.

My phone vibrates in my lap, and I giggle before opening it.

From The Biggest Stud I Know: hey you boarding yet?

I snort. Last night, Christian kept my phone hostage. When it was back in my hands, the background had been changed to his smiling face, the caption reading 'Christian is awesome'. Apparently, he changed his name as well, I not upon realizing that all of his saved texts are under this name.

God, he's such a loser.

From The Biggest SLUT I Know: nope. and cute name change, climer.

I take a sip of my iced coffee before the inevitably quick response.

From The Biggest SLUT I Know: truest words you've ever heard i'm sure. fuck, i'm gunna miss you saunders.

I half-grin at that last sentence. The idea of not seeing Christian for almost a week is so weird. After all, when you see someone almost every day, it's weird when suddenly, you won't.

To The Biggest SLUT I Know: i know. can't wait to see my old friends, though.

From The Biggest SLUT I Know: i know, right? seriously the second i go home there's a kamikaze with my name at it at foot's ;p.

I smile at his typical-Christian response. Justin "Footy" Reed is the only member of their core group of five who opted to stay in Florida. I've heard enough stores about him to last a lifetime. He, to no one's surprise, shares Christian's ever-present preoccupation with getting shitfaced.

Boarding call begins on flight 3838 to Portland, Maine, and I gather my purse and carryon.

To The Biggest SLUT I Know: yeah, yeah. promise you'll text me once you're hammered?

I feel my phone vibrate in my pocket as I stow my duffel in the overhead compartment before sitting down at 6C.

From The Biggest SLUT I Know: don't i always? have a safe flight and don't die. text me when you're on the ground <3.

To The Biggest SLUT I Know: <3.

I smile bitterly as I turn my phone off. "Painful goodbye text?" My seatmate asks, a girl my age or slightly older with sleek black hair tied back in a high ponytail. "Yeah, it's finally hit me that I won't see him for a week."

"Boyfriend?" She asks, closing her purse and stuffing it underneath the seat in front of her.

I shake my head. "Best friend."

She nods in understanding. "I'm Rena, by the way." She offers a hand and I shake it.

"I'm Erica."

--

Rena Vigarro, I learn, is a sophomore at Marymount from somewhere in New Mexico. Her family summers in Maine, and she is majoring in Communications and minoring in Partying. She's in a similar dilemma to me - the guy she wants has a girlfriend who he has no intention of giving up.

Granted, Christian and I don't bump uglies, but that's irrelevant.

We exchange phone numbers and promise to hang out once we're back in DC, then meet up with our respective families. Mine is, to no surprise, my mom, my sister, my brother, and my other "sister" Katy.

I hug them all and launch into a story.