Call Me Jimmy

Chapter 1: High on Biggy and Nirvana

Dean tapped his pencil against the wall of his new dorm. His side of the room was a mixture of a flannel blanket and posters of women leaning against cars he could never afford, and vintage rock band posters. His roommate's side, on the other hand, was sparse, at best. A practical white quilt tucked neatly in, no posters, lots of books. The mysterious roommate had yet to appear, leaving Dean to wonder who he would be sharing the tiny room with.

Suddenly, his phone buzzed and the name "Lisa" popped up on the screen. He smiled and slid the phone open to answer her call.

"Hey," He said, his gruff voice echoing through the empty walls. Lisa was the only person he knew at all on campus. An ex-girlfriend turned best friend.

"Hey dickface," She laughed. He could hear people talking and laughing in the background. "Come take me to the Roadhouse. I need a ride and you need friends," She slurred, already drunk.

He groaned. During High School, he had usually stayed by himself, with only his brother, Lisa, and his girlfriend at the time to keep him company. "Okay Lis, but only because the loser I'm sharing a room with hasn't shown yet."

-

Lisa was waiting by the Impala. Her tanned body covered by a white tank and denim booty shorts. "Finally," She whined before getting in the car.

The Roadhouse that Lisa directed him to was about and hour off campus. It was an old barnlike thing that swayed in the wind. It was overflowing with college students high on both marijuana and the freedom university brought.

Lisa headed over to a red headed girl and immediately began making out with her. Dean chuckled to himself. Lisa sure moved fast.

Dean walked up to the counter and pulled his favorite fake id out. The bartender, who looked young herself, didn't even give it a second glance. Instead, she handed him a beer and began flirting with him. He sighed, she was about three months late on that train. She was no longer his type.

The guys in the corner suddenly cheered loudly. A man slid across a long table on his back as other people dumped shots into his mouth. Dean decided that that looked like a lot of fun.

+

A pounding headache accompanied by a sick feeling in the bottom of his stomach alongside the putrid smell of vomit alerted Dean that he was most definitely hung over. He groaned and sat up, immediately feeling a glare on him.

It took a moment for his blurry brain to realize where that painful glare had originated from. A boy sat at the desk opposite Dean's. His white button-up and dark jeans gave off an air of superiority in comparison to Dean's boxers and a tee shirt.

Wait, how did he get into these clothes. The last thing he remembered was sliding down the table at The Roadhouse.

"Hey roommate," he said gruffly. All he got from the other man was a change from his concentrated glare focused on Dean to the glare moving to his computer screen. Dean groaned. His roommate seemed horrible. Oh well. Lisa must have changed him. He'd have to remember to thank her.

He stood up and walked out of the room, the sound of fingers tapping keys was all that he heard. This roommate was really weird after all.