alcohol. I bet your dad’s a preacher or some shit.”
“Yes, and I’m also forbidden to dance.” I glare. “You busted me. I came straight to college from my home in the Footloose VHS tape.”
“Feisty. I like it.”
I turn back in the direction of the dorms. “I couldn’t care less what you like, and you’re wrong about me.”
“Oh yeah?” He doesn’t sound convinced. “About what part?”
“And so what if I don’t drink much? A tipsy college student is hardly abnormal. I’m sure you sleep with one on the daily.”
“Is that your idea of a burn?” he questions, now keeping step beside me. “How much did you drink anyway?”
“Like, a cup and a half. Hardly anything. Not a big deal.”
“I know it doesn’t taste like it, but that shit is strong.”
“Like you care,” I snap. “Why are you following me—again?”
I pick up my pace, focusing extra hard on not tripping over my flip-flops. Have these shoes always been so floppy? Also, why are the streetlights becoming blurrier, the closer I get to the dorm?
“Why did you decide to go here?” I ask Leo.
“What do you mean?”
“This college. Why? I know who you are, by the way. Quinn told me earlier.”
I don’t know why I’m talking to him, and yet I can’t seem to stop.
“Oh, you know who I am? Who’s that, Alma? Tell me who I am.” His words are clipped, his voice angry.
The tone of his voice causes me to pause and not say anything else about his family, fame, or money. I shouldn’t have said it to begin with. What does it have to do with anything?
I quickly change the subject. “There’s my dorm. I’m safe. You can go.”
He ignores me and keeps walking at my side.
I don’t say anything else as I step inside the building. Holding on to the railing, I climb the steps to the second floor. There seems to be a lot more steps than before. When I open the door of my hallway, I’m breathing heavily.
I can’t wait to go to bed. This has been an emotionally and physically exhausting first day.
When I reach my door, I throw my hand in a wave behind me. “Bye now.”
As I unlock the door, Leo pushes it open wide and steps in before me.
“What are you doing?” I ask, startled.
“Calm your tits. I’m not going to touch you.” His eyes pierce mine. “Come in.”
Against my better judgment, I step into my dorm, letting the door slam behind me.
“I’m not … I’m not doing anything with you. So, you can just go,” I stammer.
Leo lets out a dry chuckle. “Number one: I can go back to the party and have the pick of pretty much any girl I want there, and I wouldn’t have to ask twice. Why would I chase you? Number two: who said I wanted you in the first place? Have I done anything indicating that I want in your pants? Because I don’t. Don’t flatter yourself.”
I hate that his words sting. I wish they didn’t. They shouldn’t. But they do.
“Number three,” he continues, “if I wanted you—and that’s a big if—all I’d have to do is ask, and you’d gladly give me your virginity. With zero protest.”
“That’s not true,” I argue.
“Yes, it is,” he hisses. He opens up our mini fridge and pulls out a bottle of water. “Here, drink this. All of it.”
“No.” I glare at him.
He can’t just come in here and boss me around.
“As someone who drinks a fucking lot, I can tell you that you’re going to feel like utter shit tomorrow if you don’t drink that.” He plops down on the futon.
With a sigh, I chug the water until it’s gone. “There. Now, go.”
“Lie down on your bed and close your eyes. Tell me if your head starts spinning.”
“Why?”
“Because if it does, you need to go make yourself puke. I’m not leaving you here to choke on your vomit.”
“Why do you even care? And I told you, I’m fine. I didn’t drink that much.”
I grab a pair of cotton shorts and a T-shirt from my drawer and lock myself in the bathroom. I take a long time, getting ready for bed. I start with a shower. The water feels good, and I happily wash the ick of the night off. I decide tonight is a perfect time to condition my hair, so I apply the deep-conditioning treatment that needs to soak on my hair for ten minutes. As I wait the allotted time, I shave and scrub every inch of