Sonia
The discussion ended better than I had expected, and I even managed to make a few friends. What I loved most was the absence of the professor—it made everything feel more relaxed.
I said my goodbyes and stepped into the empty hallway. My footsteps echoed, the faint hum of distant chatter drifting from lower floors. As the only freshman on the top floor dorms—thanks to my late arrival—I often walked this lonely stretch alone. The isolation pressed in, filling the silence.
What will I do when MJ leaves next year? The thought crept into my mind, unwelcome yet persistent. Will she break things off? She probably will.
At the end of the hallway, I spotted Martha struggling with her keys, her hands trembling as she fumbled at the lock.
“Are you okay?” I asked cautiously, noting the wild glint in her bloodshot eyes.
“Fuck off,” she hissed, her voice slurred, her breath reeking of alcohol.
“Have you been drinking?” I pressed, more out of curiosity than concern.
“Are you deaf?” she snapped, dropping the keys to the floor with a metallic clatter. Her glare burned into me, and for a moment, I swore she looked ready to hit me.
“Geez, I was only asking,” I muttered, brushing past her.
But before I could take another step, her hand shot out, gripping my arm with surprising strength and slamming me against the wall.
“What makes you so different?” she spat, her face mere inches from mine.
“Get away from me, you animal!” I shouted, wriggling against her hold.
“Animal? You wanna see a real animal?” she growled, her lips curling into a menacing sneer. Her red sweatshirt, stained and smelling of vomit, was like a warning flag.
I pushed her off with all the strength I could muster, sending her staggering backward until she landed hard on the floor. My heart pounded as I rubbed the back of my head, already feeling the beginnings of a bruise from the rough impact.
“You’re gonna pay for that, you cheap whore!” she yelled, scrambling to her feet and swinging wildly.
I dodged her punch and bolted down the hallway, adrenaline surging as I screamed for help.
“MJ! MJ!” I banged on our door, glancing over my shoulder to see Martha lumbering after me, a predator stalking her prey.
The door swung open, and I launched myself at MJ, clutching her like a lifeline.
“What’s wrong?” she asked, her hands prying at my grip.
“Martha,” I managed to choke out.
MJ’s gaze shifted to the hallway, her eyes narrowing as she saw Martha crumpled on the floor, choking on her own vomit.
“Let go!” she ordered, rushing to Martha’s side without a second thought.
I hesitated, jealousy flaring as I watched MJ kneel over Martha with a tenderness that felt misplaced.
“Help me!” MJ called, snapping me out of my daze. Together, we lifted Martha, her limp body heavier than it looked.
I fumbled with the keys, trying to find the one MJ described. My hands trembled as I unlocked the door, and MJ carried Martha inside, laying her on the bed.
“Get me a towel,” she said, brushing Martha’s hair away from her clammy forehead.
I hesitated, bile rising in my throat as I realized how much MJ seemed to care. Shaking off the feeling, I grabbed a towel from the closet and handed it to her. MJ cleaned Martha’s face with a gentleness that stung me more than Martha’s earlier attack.
“I’ll stay and watch over her,” MJ said softly, not meeting my eyes.
“Why?” I snapped, my voice laced with bitterness.
“To make sure she doesn’t choke again,” MJ replied, her tone calm, as if she didn’t notice—or didn’t care—how her actions were tearing me apart.
“She has a roommate for that,” I said, my voice rising.
“Her roommate isn’t here. It’s already past eleven,” MJ replied, her patience clearly wearing thin.
Anger bubbled in my chest, and I stormed out, grabbing my books from the hallway. My phone buzzed in my pocket, showing missed calls from my mother. Against my better judgment, I called her back.
“Why are you calling me at eleven p.m.?” she answered groggily.
“I was returning your calls,” I said, stepping over the puddle of vomit.
“Good job. But you should be resting,” she said before launching into gossip. “Susan—Anita’s daughter—is pregnant. Can you imagine? She left for university with you and already got knocked up. I hope you’re not having sex?”
I froze, my heart skipping a beat. My mother never discussed topics like this, and her sudden interrogation made me feel cornered.
“I’m not,” I lied, the words sour on my tongue.
“Good. I’m not ready to be a grandmother,” she said firmly before hanging up.
When I returned to the room, MJ was waiting, her expression unreadable.
“Who were you talking to?” she asked, her voice softer now.
“My mum,” I said, brushing past her.
“She doesn’t know, does she?” MJ asked, her hand brushing mine.
“Know what?”
“That you’re gay.”
I stiffened, the truth clawing at my throat. “No. And she never will.”
"Why not?"
"Because unlike your parents mine don't believe that people from the same gender can love each other."
She sighs, before speaking. "So what? I will become your secret?" She asked, her voice full of disdain.
"No."
"Then tell her," she insists, clearly not seeing the seriousness of the situation.
"She will disown me," I fire back.
"Then let her, it's not like you have a relationship with her anyway."
Her words sting more than they should despite them being true.
"I know my relationship with my mother is close to having none," I start. "But I'd rather have that, than nothing at all."
She shakes her head scoffing. "I was just coming for this," she says, collecting a bottle pill from the desk and storming off.
Bloody fucking MJ.
YOU ARE READING
The Sweetest Fruit ( Tomboy 🏳️🌈Love Story )
Romance[18+] Sports College Romance. Cover art by@emilycatewrites
