Free College Girl by Shelia Grace

the door handle,
causing me to jump. Unfazed, Ryan turned and walked over to the door, pulling
the chair out from under the knob and swinging it open. One of the assholes
from downstairs—Adam something—stepped back and stared up at Ryan, who had leaned his arms across the top of the door.
    “Need something?” he asked the
jerk in front of him.
    I almost clapped when the
second-floor creep retreated into the stairwell without a fucking word, the
door slamming behind him. I hopped off the bed, and Ryan turned toward me.
    “Your phone.”
    I nodded and went over to my
backpack, took out my phone, and unlocked it before handing it to him.
    “I’m putting in my number. Call me
if that jackass comes back.”
    “Are you going by Matthews or
Bennett?” I ask innocently.
    “Bennett, smartass. I’ll see you
in class on Thursday … in the front row.”
    As he walked out, I realized that
Thursday night felt a long time away. And had I just agreed to go with my TA to
his parents’ fancy wine party? Shit!

 
    ###

 
    The next morning, I went over to
the university’s undergrad newspaper. I had applied for a column last quarter
and gotten turned down, but they were always advertising for freelance
reporters. The pay for articles was miniscule, but I figured I could use what I
made over the rest of the quarter to subsidize whatever I was going to have to
pay to get a dress and decent shoes. The news editor who interviewed
me—Jenny Tran—was nice. She looked over my samples from high school
for a few minutes before rifling around on her desk for a sheet of paper.
    “Your first assignment. You can
turn it in next week. Aim for fifteen inches. Welcome to The Sentinel, Alexis.”
    “Alex,” I smiled.
    I looked down at the paper and
tried not to squeak with joy. I was thrilled out of my mind to be getting an
assignment that might pay me enough for a small pizza. Still, I figured working
for the paper, even doing just an article a week, would be better experience
than the minimum-wage job I had worked before leaving for school.
    By the time I got back to the
dorm, Brit was gone, but just to be on the safe side, I slid her chair under
the door. Then I traded off working on the article for the newspaper and my
final story for Creative Writing, which was due at the end of the quarter. I
had deleted the original story and started a new one called What If . It was basically a fictional
account of meeting Ryan that had a happy ending. Lame and desperate, but it
made me feel better.
    A couple of hours later someone
knocked on the door. Looking through the peephole, I smiled when I saw Julie.
Sliding the chair out from under the door, I opened it.
    “Hey, what’s up?” I smiled at her.
    “That fucking hunch-backed dick
from downstairs is in the DC calling you a whore.”
    My mouth fell open, and when I
recovered, I started laughing.
    “Come on in.”
    I closed the door behind her.
    “No, wait. There’s more,” she
huffed. “You’re going to love this. He’s calling you Alicia .”
    “It’s kinda nice when they don’t
bother learning your name before insulting you, isn’t it?” I smirked.
    “So, Alex. How the fuck did you of
all people earn the title of whore ?”
    I blushed, remembering Ryan
opening the door last night.
    “Okay, so remember the TA I told
you about?”
    “The twenty-eight-year-old who
almost deflowered my fellow virgin? Uh, fuck yeah.”
    “He didn’t almost deflower me!
Jesus!”
    Julie rolled her eyes and hopped
on my bed.
    “Yeah, yeah. Whatever.”
    “Well, he walked me back from
Calculus last night, and the asshole from downstairs started banging on the
door looking for Brit.”
    Julie snorted.
    “Both our roomies were at some
kind of rush event last night. S-o-o-o? What happened? Were you guys getting it
on in here or what?”
    I squirmed.
    “Not quite.”
    “Well, shit. That’s disappointing.
So he just walked you back to the dorm, and that was it?”
    I shrugged guiltily.
    “We