Free Just a Girl by Ellie Cahill

right. I followed him up and into the building, then down the hall to a door marked 2 B , below which someone had put a name tag sticker that read, O R N OT 2 B .
    “Funny.” I nodded at it.
    Paul shook his head, exasperated, and I had a feeling it wasn’t him who had stuck the label there. The door was unlocked and I could hear the sound of a television as he opened it.
    Paul shouted, “Hey, dickweeds, we got company, you better have pants on.”
    “Is this a problem in your household?” I asked.
    “You have no idea.”
    “Who’s with you?” a male voice called from within.
    Paul positioned the guitar case he was holding to prevent me from walking in and peered into the room. He must have been satisfied with what he saw, because he stepped through. “This is Presley,” he said. “Presley, this is my roommate Greg.”
    On the couch, there was a twenty-something guy wearing what appeared to be sweatpants cut off at a capri length and a DayGlo-green tank top.
    “ ’Sup?” he said, not looking up from the laptop balanced on his knees.
    “Hey.”
    “Where’s James?”
    “Dunno.”
    “Home?”
    “Think so.”
    Paul looked at me apologetically. “Greg does online tech support.”
    “Yeah, to a bunch of fucking idiots!” Greg said emphatically.
    “Well, nice to meet you, Greg,” I said.
    “Yeah.” He glanced up for a flash, then did a double take. “Whoa. Intense hair.”
    “Intense shirt,” I replied.
    He looked down, seeming surprised by the shocking color on his own body. “Yeah.”
    “See you later, Greg.” Paul nodded his head toward a dark hallway and I followed him. He flicked on a light, illuminating four doors. As if on cue, one of them opened and another twenty-something guy emerged from it with nothing but a towel around his waist and a six-pack of beer hooked on one finger. He had warm brown skin and short dreadlocks springing from his head. He looked mildly surprised to see us.
    “What’s up?” he said.
    “James, Presley. Presley, James.” Paul used the end of his guitar case like an awkward pointer to indicate each of us in turn.
    “Oh, Presley,” said James, as the light dawned in his eyes. “The Luminous 6 Presley.”
    “Not anymore,” I said automatically.
    “Right, right.” A little smile played at the corner of his mouth. “Still. You guys were tight.”
    Paul cleared his throat.
    “But, I’m sure they suck without you,” James added quickly.
    “Is Kenzie home?” Paul asked.
    “Not yet.”
    “Okay, cool.” Paul nodded at the six-pack. “What are you doing?”
    “Me?” James seemed surprised by the question. “I have had a hell of a day, and I am going to drink in the shower.”
    I couldn’t help laughing.
    “You have fun with that,” Paul said.
    “It’s guaranteed.” James tipped his head in my direction. “Nice to meet you, Presley.” He started to turn away, then paused and lifted the six-pack. “You guys want one of these?”
    Having just finished the fifth of whiskey in the park, I did not need another drink. “No thanks.”
    “It’s all you, man,” Paul said.
    “Suit yourself.”
    James disappeared through a door I presumed led to the bathroom, and I followed Paul a few yards down the hall to another door. He pushed it open and slapped his hand around on the wall until he found the switch. The lights revealed a basically unremarkable bedroom. Between the dresser, the bed, and a tall bookshelf, there wasn’t much floor space. And what space there was quickly disappeared when Paul propped his guitar cases against the wall near the mirrored closet doors.
    “I got the smallest room,” he explained.
    “I’m glad to hear that.”
    “What do you mean?”
    “Imagine if this were the biggest.”
    Paul shook his head with a soft laugh. “I guess that’s true.” He took a second to smooth the blankets before inviting me with a courteous gesture to sit.
    I sat, surprised when he turned to hitch one hip onto the corner of the dresser.