You Had Me at "I Hate You"
04
Jesse walked ahead of me, struggling under the weight of the heavy bag I'd brought. It bounced off his knees as he lugged it up the stairs. He set his jaw, determined not to complain - just like a gentleman. He was obviously dumbfounded by how much I'd managed to cram into the tiny thing, but didn't say anything about it.
The interior of the complex smelled faintly of cigarette smoke and air freshener. It had the faux elegance of a moderately priced hotel, as if it was making a half-hearted attempt at class. The carpet was green and garish, an ornate, swirling grey pattern running through the middle.
Jesse set my suitcase on the floor beside a door with a silver plate on it reading: 215. He smiled at me lightly from over his shoulder, trying to distract me from the fact that the door was stuck. He wiggled the key, emitting a breathy, nervous laugh and pushed at the door with his shoulder. With a scraping sound, the door opened, and I was instantly greeted by a mass of jumbled up papers and day-old pizza boxes.
Random articles of clothing were strewn about, so much so that the hardwood floor was hardly visible. The walls were plastered with a mixture of posters for bands, girls, and action movies. My eyes lingered upon a few pieces of modern art mixed in with the chaos. They were abstract and oddly mature, considering their surroundings.
I stepped lightly into the room, smelling the aroma of turpentine paint and boy cologne. I hesitantly returned Jesse's smile and was surprised to find that I didn't mind the apartment too much. Minus the girl posters and dirty boxers, it sort of felt like my old apartment.
"Here we are," Jesse said, pulling off his Superman sweater and letting it fall to the ground. "We weren't really expecting anyone, so - uh, as you can see - we didn't clean..." He looked down at the sweatshirt he'd dropped and cleared his throat. He instantly bent down and picked it up again, folding it neatly and placing it on the arm of the couch.
"Your room is right there," he told me, pointing to a door leading from the living room. "And... I guess now is a good time to tell you about Lincoln Fletcher."
"Lincoln Fletcher?" I asked, something in his voice making me uneasy.
"Well, first off, he's my best friend. He c-can be a little - coarse - at times, but he's a great guy," Jesse said, attempting casual enthusiasm.
"Why do I feel like you're trying to sell me a stolen car?" I muttered, shooting him a look.
"I'm not, I'm not!" he said, waving his hand and laughing weakly. "I just... I mean, you should know - I think you should be prepared. He lives here and you're going to have to get along with him because you - "
Suddenly, the door to the room that Jesse had pointed out as mine swung open. A tall, thin boy was idling in the doorway, wearing only a pair of blue, silky boxers. In his left hand was a piece of half-eaten toast with grape jelly spread on it. His head was down, nose buried in a book called "The Watchmen", which looked like a gaudy graphic novel. He didn't look up from it as he ambled out into the living room, taking a large bite of toast.
"Did you get more milk?" the boy asked thickly around the toast as he made his way to the kitchen.
Jesse had his head in his hands. He was obviously hoping for his friend to give a better first impression.
"Linc... this is Violet," he muttered.
Lincoln's head shot up. He took one look at me, glanced down at his boxer shorts, and froze, mid-chew. His toast landed on the floor, jelly side down, and "The Watchmen" came down after it, displaying a particularly gruesome fight scene to the ceiling.
"Jesse!" he protested, horrified. "Warn a guy, why don't you!"
And with that, he disappeared into the room behind him, slamming the door closed. I turned to stare at Jesse, confused. He shrugged helplessly, his face red with embarassment. Within moments, Lincoln emerged from the room, this time with a plain black shirt and pants.
"I don't care how hot she is," he barked at Jesse as soon as he'd stepped back into the living room. "You can't bring random girls home with you without warning me first. I don't care how embarrassing it is to call me in the middle of a date, you have to let me know!"
"Lincoln - "
"Last time this happened I ended up locked out of the apartment in a bathrobe! A bathrobe! And don't even get me started on that one time when you brought - "
"Linc!" Jesse interrupted loudly. "This isn't my date. Her name's Violet... And she's our new roommate."
"What?"
"Or at least she was... Before you went and scared her off."
For a second, I thought Lincoln was going to yell. He contorted his face in anger, ready to argue, but then comprehension dawned on his face. He looked surprised for a moment... And then he threw back his head and laughed. His shoulders shook and me held his stomach good-naturedly.
"Seriously man, who is she?" he asked through a chuckle.
"Like I said... She's our roommate."
I felt awkward. It was like walking in on an arguing couple. I stood between the two of them, my arms crossed defensively. Now that he knew that Jesse wasn't kidding, Lincoln began to carefully survey me.
"Roommate, huh?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Maybe," I said darkly, fiercely returning his gaze. "I haven't decided yet."
There was a long pause in which Lincoln continued to try and stare me down. I felt as if I was under a microscope, but I was determined to stay cool. Suddenly, Lincoln sighed and broke eye contact with me, turning instead to a loose thread in the bottom hem of his shirt.
"I don't like her," he said conversationally to Jesse, lazily scratching his stomach. "Find someone else."
I blanched. "Excuse me?"
Jesse looked absolutely petrified. "What? Linc, don't... Don't do this."
"Something about you..." he said slowly, turning to me. "There's something about you that screams high-maintenence." I couldn't think of anything to say and he knew it. Laughing lightly at my scowl, he continued. "I can just tell that you're going to be hard to live with."
"Linc, you're being - "
"An ass? Rude? Difficult?" he offered. "Yeah, okay. Whatever. Just go find someone else. I'll help you put up more fliers after classes, okay?"
It was then that I was finally able to get a look at him. He was quite tall and evenly proportioned, the kind of guy who refused to acknowledge his boyish good looks by completely denying them. I immediately could tell that he wasn't the clean-shaven sort. It was obvious that he used to have a mohawk, a section of hair in the middle of his head was a bit longer than rest. The dangling stripe flopped over to the left and he kept having to flick it out of his murky green eyes.
"Uh... Everyone just calm down..." Jesse soothed wringing his hands. "Don't listen to him, Violet, he's just being a shit today. He's probably testing you."
"Aw, go to hell," Lincoln spat at Jesse, who punched him heartily on the arm.
I had been so ready to move in. I had brought everything I needed, I said my goodbyes to my parents, and even given them back the house key. It would look pathetic if I came crawling back now.
Lincoln was looking at me, his eyes sparkling with a slight smile. A challenge. He was daring me to accept.
"Fine," I said after a while, a little more forcefully than I had mean to. "Okay, I'll help you boys out. But only because I really need a place." I narrowed my eyes at Lincoln. "And I want him to stay away from me."
Jesse looked as if he was about to collapse in relief. "Good! Great!" he gushed. "You're a star, Violet. I'll lock him in a dog kennel if I have to."
Ignoring that last comment, Lincoln smiled at me in mock politeness. He gestured to a door behind him, bowing low and purring, "Your château, madame."
I pushed past him, dragging my bag into the room.
I looked around. Funnily enough, it looked as if someone was already living in it. Posters for mean-looking bands were tacked to the walls, clothes were thrown over every possible surface, a small square bottle of un-opened cologne was sitting neatly on top of a few comic books. My heart beat increased as I surveyed the tiny super-hero action figures that were crammed onto the shelves.
I began screaming.
The interior of the complex smelled faintly of cigarette smoke and air freshener. It had the faux elegance of a moderately priced hotel, as if it was making a half-hearted attempt at class. The carpet was green and garish, an ornate, swirling grey pattern running through the middle.
Jesse set my suitcase on the floor beside a door with a silver plate on it reading: 215. He smiled at me lightly from over his shoulder, trying to distract me from the fact that the door was stuck. He wiggled the key, emitting a breathy, nervous laugh and pushed at the door with his shoulder. With a scraping sound, the door opened, and I was instantly greeted by a mass of jumbled up papers and day-old pizza boxes.
Random articles of clothing were strewn about, so much so that the hardwood floor was hardly visible. The walls were plastered with a mixture of posters for bands, girls, and action movies. My eyes lingered upon a few pieces of modern art mixed in with the chaos. They were abstract and oddly mature, considering their surroundings.
I stepped lightly into the room, smelling the aroma of turpentine paint and boy cologne. I hesitantly returned Jesse's smile and was surprised to find that I didn't mind the apartment too much. Minus the girl posters and dirty boxers, it sort of felt like my old apartment.
"Here we are," Jesse said, pulling off his Superman sweater and letting it fall to the ground. "We weren't really expecting anyone, so - uh, as you can see - we didn't clean..." He looked down at the sweatshirt he'd dropped and cleared his throat. He instantly bent down and picked it up again, folding it neatly and placing it on the arm of the couch.
"Your room is right there," he told me, pointing to a door leading from the living room. "And... I guess now is a good time to tell you about Lincoln Fletcher."
"Lincoln Fletcher?" I asked, something in his voice making me uneasy.
"Well, first off, he's my best friend. He c-can be a little - coarse - at times, but he's a great guy," Jesse said, attempting casual enthusiasm.
"Why do I feel like you're trying to sell me a stolen car?" I muttered, shooting him a look.
"I'm not, I'm not!" he said, waving his hand and laughing weakly. "I just... I mean, you should know - I think you should be prepared. He lives here and you're going to have to get along with him because you - "
Suddenly, the door to the room that Jesse had pointed out as mine swung open. A tall, thin boy was idling in the doorway, wearing only a pair of blue, silky boxers. In his left hand was a piece of half-eaten toast with grape jelly spread on it. His head was down, nose buried in a book called "The Watchmen", which looked like a gaudy graphic novel. He didn't look up from it as he ambled out into the living room, taking a large bite of toast.
"Did you get more milk?" the boy asked thickly around the toast as he made his way to the kitchen.
Jesse had his head in his hands. He was obviously hoping for his friend to give a better first impression.
"Linc... this is Violet," he muttered.
Lincoln's head shot up. He took one look at me, glanced down at his boxer shorts, and froze, mid-chew. His toast landed on the floor, jelly side down, and "The Watchmen" came down after it, displaying a particularly gruesome fight scene to the ceiling.
"Jesse!" he protested, horrified. "Warn a guy, why don't you!"
And with that, he disappeared into the room behind him, slamming the door closed. I turned to stare at Jesse, confused. He shrugged helplessly, his face red with embarassment. Within moments, Lincoln emerged from the room, this time with a plain black shirt and pants.
"I don't care how hot she is," he barked at Jesse as soon as he'd stepped back into the living room. "You can't bring random girls home with you without warning me first. I don't care how embarrassing it is to call me in the middle of a date, you have to let me know!"
"Lincoln - "
"Last time this happened I ended up locked out of the apartment in a bathrobe! A bathrobe! And don't even get me started on that one time when you brought - "
"Linc!" Jesse interrupted loudly. "This isn't my date. Her name's Violet... And she's our new roommate."
"What?"
"Or at least she was... Before you went and scared her off."
For a second, I thought Lincoln was going to yell. He contorted his face in anger, ready to argue, but then comprehension dawned on his face. He looked surprised for a moment... And then he threw back his head and laughed. His shoulders shook and me held his stomach good-naturedly.
"Seriously man, who is she?" he asked through a chuckle.
"Like I said... She's our roommate."
I felt awkward. It was like walking in on an arguing couple. I stood between the two of them, my arms crossed defensively. Now that he knew that Jesse wasn't kidding, Lincoln began to carefully survey me.
"Roommate, huh?" he asked, raising an eyebrow.
"Maybe," I said darkly, fiercely returning his gaze. "I haven't decided yet."
There was a long pause in which Lincoln continued to try and stare me down. I felt as if I was under a microscope, but I was determined to stay cool. Suddenly, Lincoln sighed and broke eye contact with me, turning instead to a loose thread in the bottom hem of his shirt.
"I don't like her," he said conversationally to Jesse, lazily scratching his stomach. "Find someone else."
I blanched. "Excuse me?"
Jesse looked absolutely petrified. "What? Linc, don't... Don't do this."
"Something about you..." he said slowly, turning to me. "There's something about you that screams high-maintenence." I couldn't think of anything to say and he knew it. Laughing lightly at my scowl, he continued. "I can just tell that you're going to be hard to live with."
"Linc, you're being - "
"An ass? Rude? Difficult?" he offered. "Yeah, okay. Whatever. Just go find someone else. I'll help you put up more fliers after classes, okay?"
It was then that I was finally able to get a look at him. He was quite tall and evenly proportioned, the kind of guy who refused to acknowledge his boyish good looks by completely denying them. I immediately could tell that he wasn't the clean-shaven sort. It was obvious that he used to have a mohawk, a section of hair in the middle of his head was a bit longer than rest. The dangling stripe flopped over to the left and he kept having to flick it out of his murky green eyes.
"Uh... Everyone just calm down..." Jesse soothed wringing his hands. "Don't listen to him, Violet, he's just being a shit today. He's probably testing you."
"Aw, go to hell," Lincoln spat at Jesse, who punched him heartily on the arm.
I had been so ready to move in. I had brought everything I needed, I said my goodbyes to my parents, and even given them back the house key. It would look pathetic if I came crawling back now.
Lincoln was looking at me, his eyes sparkling with a slight smile. A challenge. He was daring me to accept.
"Fine," I said after a while, a little more forcefully than I had mean to. "Okay, I'll help you boys out. But only because I really need a place." I narrowed my eyes at Lincoln. "And I want him to stay away from me."
Jesse looked as if he was about to collapse in relief. "Good! Great!" he gushed. "You're a star, Violet. I'll lock him in a dog kennel if I have to."
Ignoring that last comment, Lincoln smiled at me in mock politeness. He gestured to a door behind him, bowing low and purring, "Your château, madame."
I pushed past him, dragging my bag into the room.
I looked around. Funnily enough, it looked as if someone was already living in it. Posters for mean-looking bands were tacked to the walls, clothes were thrown over every possible surface, a small square bottle of un-opened cologne was sitting neatly on top of a few comic books. My heart beat increased as I surveyed the tiny super-hero action figures that were crammed onto the shelves.
I began screaming.