Been There, Done That (excerpt)
Chapter Thirteen
Clay Aiken got to the room before I did. He was everywhere: on the walls, on the dresser, on the ceiling over Tiffany’s pink bed. There were pictures cut from newspapers, magazine covers, and posters purchased from God-knows-where. Clay, Clay, Clay: there was no escaping him. He made me long for the unicorns and rainbows I’d imagined Tiffany would favor. I dropped my suitcase and laundry bag, stuffed with linens, on the gray industrial carpet, sat on my bare mattress, and gawked at the room.
On the far wall, built-in brown laminate desks spanned the length of the aluminum-rimmed windows. Tiffany had claimed the desk near her window: it held an 8X10 framed photograph of a collie and a closed laptop computer. On the opposite wall were our built-in bureaus, also of brown laminate. The beds, which ran along either side wall, were the only pieces not bolted-down – not that there was any place else to put them.
Richard refused to spring for a new wardrobe, so I brought along a bunch of jeans and T-shirts, some of which I’d owned since my
© Carol Snow
(real) college days. I also packed my down pillow and 500 thread count sheets because I didn’t think I’d be able to sleep without them. I was tucking the too-big sheets around my lumpy twin mattress when I heard a voice.
“You settling in okay?” I jumped. I’d forgotten the door was open. Peering in was a beautiful boy with sparkling teeth and greenish gold eyes. He sported the kind of tan that you abandon forever once you join the world of nine-to-five. His wavy brown hair, tinged with blond, was about an inch too long for Wall Street. His gray T-shirt and black gym shorts didn’t do much to cover a lean, muscled body. He left Clay Aiken in the dust.
“I’m fine,” I said. “Just trying to adjust.”
He scanned the walls. “You like that guy? What’s his name?”
“Clay.” I scrunched up my face. “I have nothing against him. He has a very nice voice. I just never imagined myself living with him.”
He laughed. “Not an American Idol fan, huh? I’m Jeremy Dunbar. The Resident Assistant. I’m in room 322 if you need anything.”
When I was in college, all the boys were named Jeff or John or Steve: nothing cute like Jeremy. Then again, I didn’t have to put up with girls named Tiffany, so times weren’t all bad.
