Best Laid Plans

Chapter Two: Roommates or Doommates?

"This is my home, and you're asking me to hide? No way."  

"It's my home now, too." 

"Not until you come up with the first month's rent." 

Ryan looked up from his homework and stared at me indignantly. That's right, he was doing homework during the summer. Clarification, he had chosen his summer in summer school classes at his fancy pants private school Elmwood. We were both rising seniors, but there was definitely something essentially different about us. I tried hard in school and I received good grades for my effort, but I would not willingly go back every day during the summer to continue taking classes.  

"I'm trying to get ahead," he said defensively when he caught me staring at him. "I'm thinking of graduating early."  

"Why?" I asked, leaning my chin on my arms that were folded over the back of their comfy couch.  

"None of your business." 

I huffed and blew an angry breath through my brown bangs, but didn't pursue the issue further. Instead, I collapsed with a large sigh onto the couch.  

"Could you make those noises in your room?"  

I glared, but became silent. After ten minutes passed this way I flipped back over on my stomach and grabbed at a sheet of his homework. On the page were written complex calculus equations. I had taken a calculus class back home in California, but I could not make heads or tails of his homework.  

"This looks pretty hard." 

"It's multivariable calculus." 

"Oh." That's why I couldn't understand it or him for that matter. Geniuses were always a little crazy. That was why I always got along with my mom better than my father. Only he would say, "It's only rocket science!"  

I also knew from that experience, though, that people with intelligence tend to be proud of that intelligence.  

"So, you must be pretty smart." 

"I guess. Top of my class anyway." He tried to say this nonchalantly, but I saw that he smiled smugly when he said this.  

"So, you probably understand a lot of things." I slid over on the couch so that I was sitting right up next to him. I'd read in Chic once that eye contact was instrumental when trying to get something you want.  

"Look, we both know that I can't afford an apartment as nice and cheap as this anywhere else in the city, and you two need me to help make rent." 

"Sounds about right," he agreed after a brief pause.  

"I think we have a good thing going here. My mom, though, might be a little concerned. I'm her oldest, and having a child leaving the nest for the first time is a stressful time for her, so to make the transition as easy as possible I think I should be the only one here when we video chat." 

Ryan smiled. I didn't like it. 

"Wouldn't it be better if I were here to assure her that I'd protect her little daughter?" 

"There's no nee-" 

"No, I insist. What are roommates for, right?" He leaned closer and closer as I said this, and I leaned back, trying to maintain a comfortable distance.  

"I r-really don't-" I stammered. When did I lose the upper hand? As soon as I got my luggage back I was going to write an email to the editor of that magazine. Eye contact was not the answer as my eyes were locked on to his, but I had no control.  

"Or is it that you don't want her to worry about you living with a teenaged boy? I suppose that's reasonable as we are all just overflowing with testosterone and other nasty hormones."