A/N: I've resurfaced after months of nothing and, well, yeah, sorry about that. The second season just drained all of my inspiration for my WIPs. And, while I'm talking about my WIPs, I'm discontinuing Through the Years and The Space Between. Now for anyone following those two stories, I'm really sorry. Through the Years was more for me than it was for you all and I never really knew where I was going with The Space Between in the first place. I do intend to write an epilogue to Spacethough. As soon as I figure out what I want to say. Which will take awhile because I am really busy right now and I haven't been in the proper head space for that fic in a long time.
But this story hasn't died. It soldiers on. And now the next chapter. Alexandri
Adam's pace slowed as he walked down the unfamiliar hallway to his unfamiliar dorm room. Emotion jumbled inside him—he was eager to start over again with a new roommate and a whole new set of circumstances, yet he was afraid that his new roommate would be another Corey and that he'd fall in the "bizarro" Adam trap again. He and Joan may have broken up but he didn't want to do anything that would disappoint her.
He came to a stop in front of room 336. The door to his new dorm room (a quick glance at his housing letter confirmed this) was slightly ajar and he pushed it all the way open with one finger. "Uh, hello?" Adam said. "Anyone home?" He walked in, stopping in his tracks.
One entire wall was dominated by a rather large bookshelf unit. Only instead of books, the shelves held record albums and CDs. Adam was sure he'd never seen so many CDs in one place outside of a record store. In one corner of the room was an enormous stereo with two turntables and large speakers. Absently setting his bag on the nearest bed, he walked over to examine the CDs. Apparently, there was no rhyme or reason to the organization, 50 Cent was housed next to John Legend who was next to the Beatles who was next to Pink Floyd.
Running awestruck fingers over the record sleeves, Adam scanned the decorated side of the room. He received his second shock in less than five minutes. The walls were covered with pictures but, unlike Corey who'd hung images of busty, animated dominatrices in tiny straps of leather, his new roommate had a montage of musicians on the wall. Gorgeous posters of Billie Holiday and Miles Davis' Kind of Blue mingled with They Might Be Giants, the Carpenters, and Janet Jackson in her Velvet Rope phase among others. His new roommate certainly had eclectic taste.
"You must be Adam," called a voice from the doorway. Adam glanced up to find a skinny tall guy with warm brown skin and wire frame glasses. "I'm Rodney Taylor."
"Hey, Rodney," he said, walking over and sticking out his hand. Rodney's handshake was firm but relaxed. "It's nice to meet you."
"Same here," Rodney replied, smile on his face. He tossed a small bag on his bed and pointed at Adam's side of the room. "I think it should be clean over there. I checked but my last roommate was a slob so I may have missed something. Where's the rest of your stuff? I'll help you bring it up."
It took the two forty-five minutes to get Adam's few belongings into the dorm. Even though the dorm wasn't even twenty-five percent full, the students who were in residence were busy and subsequently tying up the elevator. After they'd gotten the last of his things stowed into some semblance of order, they collapsed on their beds and silently regarded each other.
"So how long have you been collecting?" Adam asked finally, pointing toward the bookshelf. He didn't get a creepy or high-maintenance vibe from Rodney, but the guy clearly wasn't much of a talker.
"Seems like forever," Rodney said easily, stretching his long frame out on the bed and folding his hands behind his head. "My dad and grandpa are both musicians and my mom has been singing in the church almost all her life so I've always been surrounded by music." A nostalgic, mischievous grin spread across Rodney's mouth. "My uncle has a record store and he gave me a job when I was fifteen. Thirty percent discount on anything in the store and I could order anything I wanted. I think I bought a third of my collection over the next three years."
Adam glanced at the wall unit again. He still hadn't gotten used to the sheer volume of CDs. "It's impressive."
"Most of it is at my parents'." Rodney waved his hand in the general direction of the wall unit, completely oblivious to Adam's gaping mouth. "You can listen to anything you want. Just make sure you put it back where you got it. I have a system."
"Yeah, his system is wherever he happens to shove it back in," came another voice. The guys jerked upright to find a tall, buxom, mocha-skinned woman framed in the doorway. "I'm Katrina," she said, sweeping into the room like she owned the place, "but call me Kat. I live a few doors down."
"Adam," he replied, shaking her hand.
"So I heard." Assessing eyes swept over him and it was an effort not to squirm under her gaze. "Don't worry," she said, a soft, Southern accent warming her voice. "Rodney's real easy to get along with and I'm..."
"A natural born grandmother," Rodney supplied. "She'll constantly force food on you. Don't know where she gets it all from but I swear she feeds half our floor."
"Just 'cause your scrawny ass can't cook..."
"Why should I when I can just come to you for Sunday dinner on a Wednesday night?"
"Remember that the next time I make cobbler and you don't get any."
"You wouldn't," Rodney said, looking appalled.
"Try me."
Rodney gaped at her. Adam watched the two, torn between discomfort and amusement. He didn't know anything about their relationship, though, and decided he'd be better off keeping his mouth shut.
A knock on the door interrupted Kat and Rodney's silent staring match. Adam looked up to find a blond girl standing in the doorway. She looked vaguely familiar, but for some reason he was unable to place her. "I knew you said you'd be back today," she said with a grin and suddenly it clicked in place.
"Caitlin?" he asked incredulously. The last time he actually saw her, she had waist-length black hair, lots of eyeliner, and wore an odd assortment of chains and leather. This girl, though, was tanned with bouncy, chin-length curls. With her skin makeup-free and wearing khakis and a pink (!) sweater beneath her wool overcoat, Adam was surprised he'd recognized her at all.
"I look a little different, huh?" she said, coming in and hugging him.
"Just a little, yeah," he agreed, returning her embrace. Aware of Kat and Rodney shooting questioning glances at them, he released Caitlin and introduced everyone.
Once everyone was settled—Rodney on his bed, Kat in his desk chair with her feet propped on his bed, Adam cross-legged on the floor beside his bed, and Caitlin leaning against his headboard—Caitlin gave him a thorough once-over. More by habit than anything else, Adam drew his knees to his chin. Smirking, Caitlin reached out and ruffled his hair. "You're looking better, but who comes back from Italy as pale and skinny as you? I say, we order in. Wings, anybody?"
"Mmmm," Grace murmured, her eyes closed and her breathing shallow as Ben pressed nibbling kisses along the length of her neck. His hand slipped beneath her shirt, gently caressing her side. She gripped his shirt in her hands, tugging him closer as he licked the sensitive spot below her ear. "Want you now," he whispered roughly, nudging her back onto the sofa.
Yes, her mind shouted but something resisted. She wanted him. God, how she wanted him. Why was she resisting again?
"Ow!" The shout sounded through the apartment. "Shit! Dammit."
Sucking in a gulp of air, Grace thrust Ben off of her. "We can't."
Ben closed his eyes and bowed his head. "Right. Sorry." He scooted to the other end of the sofa.
After the night they'd first been intimate with each other, the night Joan had held back tears at the sight of them cuddling, Grace and Ben had been trying not to flaunt their relationship in her face. Since Joan was currently bumbling around her room, they couldn't get caught up kissing. Though Ben did do this thing with his tongue while sucking her lip that was just entirely too sexy for words.
"I'm going to see what Joan's up to," Grace announced as she scrambled off the sofa. She quickly ran her hands through her hair and straightened her clothes, pausing to knock before opening Joan's door. "Are you all right?" she asked slowly as she took in the scene.
Clothes were strewn about the room, most from Joan's luggage. She'd only come back from Arcadia the day before and hadn't fully unpacked. The rest spilled out of her closet and dresser. Joan stood in front of her mirror rubbing her eye, an eyeliner pencil trapped securely between her fingers. "It's nothing, Grace. I just poked myself in the eye."
"And cursed about it," Grace pointed out as she sat on the edge of her friend's bed. "You don't do that that much."
"Yeah, well, it hurt," she joked. Blinking experimentally, Joan gave Grace a smile meant to reassure but which failed miserably. "I'm just a little, well, irritable. Really, I'm okay."
Grace wanted to press the issue, but post-Adam Joan was even pricklier than Grace herself and she just didn't have the energy to fight with her roommate. Especially with Ben patiently waiting in the living room so they could go back to their kissing. "Where are you going?"
Joan stiffened defensively and Grace knew what that meant. "Eric and I are going to a party."
"You have your cell phone?"
Frowning, Joan paused and stared at Grace in the mirror. "Yes."
"And money?"
"Why are you asking me all this?"
"Because you don't want to talk to me about what's going on with you," Grace said evenly. "If you're going to go out and possibly do something stupid, I want to know you can call me or catch a cab."
"Thanks for your faith in me," Joan groused. "It's really heartwarming."
Grace shrugged as she got to her feet. "Just be careful tonight."
"What do you think is going to happen?"
"Nothing," Grace answered honestly, "but it doesn't hurt to be prepared." Before Joan could respond, she left.
"Is she all right?" Ben asked as Grace reached for his hand and tugged him to his feet.
"Yeah, just poked herself in the eye getting ready for her date." Grace turned and led him down the hall toward her bedroom.
"Date?"
"Eric."
"Oh." Only the knowledge that Ben was still concerned about Joan kept Grace from being disgruntled by the disappointment she heard in his voice.
"She's a big girl, remember?" she reminded as much for her sake as for his. She closed her bedroom door behind them. "She can take care of herself."
Ben draped his arms around Grace's waist and brushed his lips over her forehead. "You can't tell me you aren't worried about her."
"Of course, I am. But I can't do anything if she doesn't want my help. And she doesn't." Ben's arms tightened around her and she couldn't help smiling a little. When had they gotten so close that she trusted him with her worries and vulnerabilities? As he pressed another kiss to her forehead, she decided that she'd enjoy the moment especially since he hadn't suggested they follow Joan to protect her from herself.
After a long moment, Ben leaned back and peered down into her face. "Perhaps we could do something to cheer you up," he proposed, pulling back to take her hands and guide her to the bed. "Nothing too graphic, scout's honor." Huge grin lighting his face, he held up the traditional two-finger salute.
Willfully tamping down her worry over Joan, Grace rolled her eyes and playfully scowled at her boyfriend. "You better be kidding."
Maybe he shouldn't have let her have that last beer. Eric watched, torn between bemusement and lust, as Joan danced and sang along with Gwen Stefani's Hollaback Girl. Her innate clumsiness was more pronounced after a margarita and four beers, but she still mesmerized him. And she happened to have a really good voice.
"Let me hear you say this stuff is bananas, B-A-N-A-N-A-S," Joan sang loudly. "This stuff is bananas, B-A-N-A-N-A-S."
Shaking his head, Eric eased into the crowd until he stood behind her. He laid his hand on the small of her back. "Joan, maybe we should ..."
"Eric!" She spun into him and threw her arms around his neck. "Dance with me, Eric."
"Maybe some other time," he said, trying to pry her arms from around his neck. He finally had her willing and in his arms and he was trying to push her away. Sometimes he marveled at the things he did for the sake of this relationship.
"No, now." She pressed against him; he gritted his teeth in an attempt to distract himself. "Dance with me now, Eric."
"Joan," he tried again, but she'd laid her head on his shoulder. Knowing he should stand firm, Eric put his arms around her and swayed with her as she purred the lyrics of a new, slower song in his ear.
"Cause it's you and me and all of the people with nothing to do, nothing to lose."
Eric rested his cheek against Joan's, savoring the moment despite his misgivings. He'd never seen Joan drunk before and, while he was glad that she wasn't a wild drunk, he felt awful for letting this happen. When he'd picked her up earlier, he'd noticed the deadened look she'd had all the previous semester wasn't as noticeable. She'd seemed happier and he'd thought things had improved over winter break. Now he wasn't so sure. But, as he danced with her, he figured it wouldn't hurt anything if he pretended for a few minutes.
"There's something about you now I can't quite figure out," Joan sang softly.
"We should leave after this song, all right?" he whispered in her ear.
"Do we have to?"
Biting back his smile at her childish whine, Eric nodded. "Yes, we do." He felt her shoulders slump and knew she was pouting. "It's for the best."
"All right."
The song was over too soon. Eric stoically ignored Joan's protests. Before long, he'd tucked Joan in the front passenger seat of his black Lexus convertible and was cruising through town with the windows down. Maybe a little air would sober her up a bit.
"That was fun," she sighed. "Wasn't that fun?"
"It had its moments."
"Adam and I danced on my front lawn once," she said, closing her eyes as she rested her head on the seat. She missed the pained expression that flashed across his face. "Luke and I'd thrown a party and I wouldn't kiss him even though we had in the feathers a few days before and he got mad and left."
"Luke?" he asked, wondering what kissing this Luke person had to do with dancing with Adam.
"Adam."
"But I thought you kissed Luke," he said slowly.
"Eww." She turned reproachful eyes on him. "Luke's my baby brother."
"Oh. So you kissed Adam in the feathers but wouldn't kiss him at your party." Though he wasn't the guy's biggest fan, he couldn't help sympathizing with him.
"Right. I wasn't ready so I had to re-create everything." She sighed again. "Didn't help much. Re-created us right into Baby Voice."
Eric decided he wouldn't even try to decipher that statement.
"He always smells like spring. Not flowery but like growth and sun and potential. Funny that. He was so dead at first. Animated, sweet, beautiful, but dead. He told me once I smell like fall. Loves fall. Don't know why. The worst things seem to happen in the fall."
She quieted, turning toward her open window. Eric kept his eyes on the road. As much as he didn't want to hear it, he sensed she needed to tell him this. Maybe not tell him so much as remember so she could move on. So he continued driving and waited for her to speak again.
"He was jealous of you. Asked if I was sleeping with you." His mouth fell open, but forced himself not to say anything. "I don't think he really thought I was, though. I think maybe he thought I wanted to. Said I knew you liked me and was flattered. He was right, I think. I am flattered. He's been the only one I've seen in so long. It's nice to know someone else can see me." Her head whipped toward him. "You do see me, don't you?"
He nodded. "Yeah," he whispered.
"That night on the lawn, he opened his arms and wrapped them around me and I could smell his spring smell under the fall air. I knew then but I was scared. It didn't make sense. We were only sixteen."
Even he knew it would be a mistake to ask, Eric did it anything. "You knew what?"
"Adam, he felt right, like he fit me perfectly. Like Arcadia, like home. Now he's gone."
Eric didn't know what to say to that. He was pretty sure this was the end of any hope he had that Joan might one day return his feelings. Adam, it seemed, was her great love and it appeared that she wasn't going to get over him any time in the near future, if ever. Struggling to keep his disappointment out of his voice, he said softly, "Ready to go home?"
She didn't answer immediately. He thought perhaps she hadn't heard him. He'd just opened his mouth when she said, "Can I stay at your place tonight? Grace and Ben probably want to be alone."
He turned the car toward his apartment.
"What's the deal with you and Caitlin?" Rodney asked.
Adam glanced up from hanging some artsy poster of something Rodney had never seen before. It was a series of swirls, of blue sky and green water with a yellow boat in the center. "What?" he asked distractedly.
"You…and Caitlin? What's the deal?" Rodney paused, debating whether or not to pry. Generally, Rodney avoided prodding. His personal philosophy was to 'leave people be,' but he was going to share a room with Adam for five months and he thought it would be best if they could be friends. Besides, he wanted to know now if Caitlin was going to be a recurring fixture in their room. "Are you guys hanging out or 'hanging out?'"
"We're just friends," Adam replied, turning his attention to his poster.
"You two don't act like 'just friends.'"
"And you and Kat act like an old, married couple. Are you guys 'hanging out?'" Adam used his hands to put air quotes around hanging out for emphasis.
A faint blush crept into Rodney's cheeks and he fiddled with his eyeglasses. This was not something he was comfortable talking about. His relationship with Kat was ... complicated. It had been since he met her back in September. "Kat and I are just friends."
Adam turned around and leaned against the wall beside his poster. For a long moment, he studied Rodney and it took all of Rodney's self-control not to fidget under the scrutiny. "But you wish it could be more," Adam said finally, an understanding smile on his face.
Rodney shrugged. "Never gonna happen."
"Why not?"
"Because Kat thinks I'm some pet project for her to improve!" he snapped. He stood and pretended to straighten his CDs, not that he saw any of them. It was the one thing he really hated about his relationship with Kat. She had this way of making him feel like he was in high school again. There were times when he could swear she was on the verge of patting him on the head and giving him a cookie for being a good little boy. He was pretty sure the only stopping her from doing just that was the fact that he was taller than her.
Rodney was so engrossed in his resentment that he'd almost forgotten Adam was still in the room. He started when Adam said softly, "I'll make you a deal."
"What kind of deal?"
"If you ask Kat out," Adam began slowly, "I'll ask Caitlin out."
Rodney blinked. He wasn't sure he heard his roommate correctly. "I thought you were just friends."
Adam shrugged. "There's something more than friendship there," he admitted, looking markedly uneasy by the admission.
Rodney stared hard to several minutes. He knew there was more going on than Adam was telling him. He wondered what can of worms this deal would open for both of them. The whole thing sounded like a disaster waiting to happen. That would definitely be the case if this were a movie. Or maybe this was something they both needed. Maybe he should approach the whole thing with an optimistic attitude. Walking over to his new, mysterious roommate, he held out his hand and waited for Adam to grasp it before saying firmly, "Deal."