Remy pushed himself through the revolving doors, the cool air conditioning swallowing him at his entrance. It was a late August day and the clouds outside were thick; their invisible moisture laced the atmosphere with the sticky, damp, breathless air that Remy could only identify as one of two things: humidity or sex. At that particular moment, it was humidity.

The refreshing temperature inside the building was not, by any means, Remy's justification for visiting the library. On the contrary, his visit was completely selfless. Hands in tailored, khaki pockets, he flashed the middle-aged woman behind the circulation desk a grin as cocky and suave as his fluid movements past her. Her eyes dropped to her book while her face flushed a burning scarlet. He chuckled inwardly, continuing his search.

It didn't last long. He found Scott at a study table, various encyclopedias situated around him while he read a particular volume. Remy rolled his eyes and shook his head, making way toward his young roommate. It was only a few days ago that Remy had introduced the kid to at least ten different girls over at Marion Leigh and Scott hadn't gone back once to reap the fruits of Remy's generous labor. Instead, he hides away here every night, nose stuck in some damned book.

Oh yes, Remy was going to have to put a stop to this, immediately.

"What," Remy started, pulling out a chair at Scott's table and sliding easily into it, "de fuck do you t'ink you are doing? Jesus, Scott, it's Friday night."

Scott sighed, his eyes glued to the pages. "I wouldn't expect you to understand the fine art of literature."

Remy leaned to glance over Scott's shoulder. "Ah yes, de intensely provocative tale of de sedimentary rock." He scoffed. "Come on, Scott. I know Xavier's isn't exactly 54, but we gotta make de best wit' what we have. Now ditch de goddamned book and let's go. I'll whip us up some dates in no time." Remy's eyes crawled over the hardbacks surrounding him as if one would open their jaws and swallow him whole.

Scott remained seated. "For your information, there is something quite calming about research. Never am I so relaxed and in sync with my body as I am when studying such riveting topics as..." his gaze dropped back to the pages and his face fell, "rocks."

Remy blinked, turning his head and muttering incredulously. Then he saw it, not thirty feet from them. "Ohhh, I see, homme." Remy's sharp, attractive features broke into a wide, knowing smile. "I see." He repeated.

Scott shifted in his seat. "See what?" He asked, unable to meet Remy's stare.

"I see why 'researching' gets you so 'in sync.' Hell, I wouldn't mind my body being 'in sync' wit' hers, eit'er," he shot Scott a wicked look, "if you know what I'm sayin.'"

Scott furrowed his brows. "I don't know what you're talking about," he stated flatly, thumbing anxiously through pages.

"Mm-hmm. Boy, I am de last person you'd be able to lie to about dis shit. Now I know a man, a real man, does not come into a library on his Friday night to read about rocks." He flipped the encyclopedia closed. "He comes in for dat." Remy pointed a slender finger at a thin redhead sitting on a couch against the far wall. She held a small book open and toyed absently with the buttons on her white blouse, obviously engrossed in her reading. Her hair fell in long, full crimson curls, complementing her creamy complexion.

"Looks like she's really enjoyin' dat book," Remy noted.

"I've been watching her bite that lip for almost half-an-hour." Scott replied, letting himself indulge in some blatant staring of his own beside Remy.

Remy tipped his head. "Not bad; I like 'em a li'l fuller around de hips, but she's got a real nice face. Go for it, homme."

"No," Scott said simply. Remy stared blankly.

"What do you mean 'no'?"

"I mean I'm not making an ass of myself four days into the school year."

"Oh," Remy nodded, "okay, so, so stalk her for anot'er few weeks...brilliant."

She stood from her seat at the couch and crossed to a near study table where an assortment of papers and notebooks had been left. "She's leaving, man!" Remy stood. "Go. Now!"

Scott yanked his roommate back into his seat. "Would you shut-up!? Do you want her to hear you?"

"You're rally not gonna do it?" It was less of a question than a statement. Scott nodded furiously, darting glances at her to make sure she wasn't being made witness to the ridiculous situation. "Fine," Remy snapped. "I have to do *everyt'ing* for you, I see." He snapped back to his feet and was out of Scott's reach before the younger boy could snatch him back.

"Remy!" He hissed between his teeth.

The Cajun wandered to where the redheaded girl was packing things into her shoulder bag. Scott threw his book open and watched the scene from a distance, gripping the hardback. Remy reached her table and paused, watching her.

She stopped, her little book still in hand, and turned to face Remy. "Yes?"

He made a small, breathless chuckle and Scott watched him go into 'charm-mode' with subtle changes in little movements and the throaty tone.

"I'm sorry for staring, chere," he began, "I just couldn't help but notice dat you were reading EAST OF EDEN. I love dat book."

She blinked, the corners of her lips slightly upturned. "Oh really?" He nodded positively. She swallowed, clearly surprised. "It's one of my favorites," she continued. "I'm a Steinbeck slut."

Remy pinched his mouth and then smiled again. She was perfect for Scott. "Well, if you're not too busy wit' Steinbeck tomorrow night, why don't you come have dinner wit' my friend and me."

"Friend?" She asked, perking an eyebrow.

"Yea, his name is Scott. You'll like him. I know dis place downtown- nice little jazzy place. We'll pick you up at 7:30."

She sighed, staring down at her bag for a moment. Tables away, Scott held his breath and clenched the book even tighter. She met Remy's eyes again, smiling as well now. "Alright."

"Wonderful. You're gonna have a great time." He promised.

She pulled the bag off the desk and onto her shoulder, turning to walk away from him. "Oh wait, I didn't catch your name!"

She spun on her heel and called back from the revolving doors. It had gotten dark outside. "Jean," she said.

"I'm Remy," he cried back. "See you tomorrow, Jean. And bring a friend!"

"Sir, this is a library!" The woman behind the desk hissed in a high whisper.

Remy blinked, meeting his eyes with hers. "Sorry, love." He called in a dramatic whisper. She pursed her mouth and shook her head, settling her glasses back on her nose.

Remy turned to wink at Scott before making his own way out of the library. "T'ank you, Remy. Gee, no problem, Scott. What are amazing, generous, witty, extraordinary roommates for?"

"Please, please, please, please!" Jean flopped onto her roommate's bed in a tank and underwear. "I'll do *anything!*"

Rogue blew on the glossy, freshly-painted fingernails adorning her left hand and proceeded to paint the right one. "Jean, Ah'd love to help ya', but c'mon, you don't honestly expect me to give up *my* Satuhday naght for a blind date just so you can get freaky with some dark-eyed sexy beast, do you?"

"But Rogue, look at it this way: if Remy's that good-looking, I'm sure his friend is equally attractive!"

Rogue adjusted her position on the bay window sill. "Ah dunno, girl."

Jean bent backward at the waist until she was hanging upside down over the bed. She covered her hands and groaned. "Oh, come on, Rogue! I thought you'd be the type to take a gamble!"

Rogue stood, donning a short white slip she wore to bed. She planted a hand on one hip, careful not to let her wet nails touch the fabric. She huffed a defiant auburn curl from between her wide, olive eyes. "Damn it, girl. You owe me."

Jean sat up on her knees and squealed happily. "Oh thank you, Rogue!"

"Yeah, yeah. Ah sweah, Jean, if he turns out to be some prep jerk, Ah'm borrowing anything from your closet anytime Ah want."

"Yeah right, cow!" Jean grinned.

"What!? Get off my bed, you li'l whore."

Jean laughed out loud, moving from Rogue's bed to her own. "I know you did not just call *me* a whore, Miss Already-Has-About-Five-Guys-Lined-Up-For-The-Year."

"Ah can't help it that Ah am a sex goddess, can I?" The southern beauty stretched across the length of her wine-red sheets.

Jean rolled her eyes. "Right."

"What de fuck is dat?" Remy met Scott's eyes through the bathroom mirror while he grazed his sleek silver razor from Adam's apple to chin in one fluid movement. They prepared for the big night at the boys' bathroom sinks.

Scott lowered his head, eyes crawling over his outfit. "What's what?"

Remy shook his head, swashing the razor into the cloudy sink water. "Scott, my boy, when escorting a woman as fine as...the one you are escorting, one does not walk out of his closet dressed in dat t'ing I'm assuming you call a sweater."

"What's wrong with my sweater?" He looked past Remy into the mirror and ran a palm over the thick charcoal gray pullover. "I may not have *frivolously* spent three-hundred bucks on it, but it's still a damned nice sweater."

"Hey, if you're referring to de Gucci coat I own, you can suck it; I didn't buy it 'cause it was t'ree-hundred, I bought it 'cause it's a stylish, warm, practical coat." He paused, running the blade over his face again. "And damn, it's a Gucci!"

Scott prepared to retort when the bathroom door swung open. Noel Mason stepped easily into the facilities, approaching a mirror and commencing to inspect either side of his face. He was a lean, fairly tall boy with an intelligent, clean-shaven look. He presented himself with confident airs- all wealth and power- and a stranger would assume that not only he attended a prep school, but as did his father and his father and his father. Remy knew him from their junior year last year, much to the former boy's dismay.

An awkward silence hung in the air until the heavy door swung open a second time. Scott blinked, his eyes darting from the first boy to the second. Remy grinned, swaggering and mischievous. "What, dey don't have twins in Almond, Scotty?"

Dickie Mason snorted and crossed the clean white tiles toward his brother, flashing Remy a sour smile and refusing to even acknowledge Scott.

Scott immediately picked up on the bad atmosphere created by their appearance. Obviously, there was not good history between the twins and Remy. He leaned against a far wall, hands in pockets, opting not to leave Remy alone with the boys. Two against one; it hardly seemed fair. Maybe Remy would go easy on them.

The second boy cut through the silence again, this time making his voice sharp and pronounced while he conversed with his brother. "Big date tonight, boy?"

Noel smirked. "Not really. Just Candy."

"I saw her the other night. I'm almost scared to bang her these days, as many cocks as she's sucked."

Scott pursed his lips. A lot of tact, these guys had.

Noel, drying his hands now, noticed Scott's subtle grimace. His eyes traveled to Remy, still shaving. "She's such a whore- almost as bad as Remy's mom."

Remy paused in mid-stroke, inclining his head just so over his shoulder but not meeting the twin's eyes. Scott stood to attention. There was a moment of heavy silence. Remy swallowed and his voice was calm and low. "Say it again, Noel," he dared.

Scott briefly wondered how his roommate could tell them apart, but his attentions were soon focused on more important issues as the twins moved to stand side by side, facing Remy.

"You don't scare us," Dickie sneered. "You're nothing but a filthy mob brat and everyone knows your daddy sent you here to get you out of the way of his business- the filthy pimp."

Remy charged for the boys but gained a maximum of three steps before Scott blocked him, hands on Remy's shoulders and guiding the furious Cajun back a few feet. "Jesus, Remy!" Scott hissed in his ear. "Think, just *think*. What happens after you kick their asses, huh? Dr. Kelley gets up here and we're both screwed for our dates tonight. Hey, hey! Think of Jean's hot li'l friend. You wouldn't want her to be all alone on this fine Saturday night, now would you?"

Remy blinked, meeting Scott's eyes and a small smile creasing his features. "Screwed for our dates tonight?" He chuckled, slapping Scott's shoulder. "We can only hope, neh?" He glared at the twins as they made their way out of the bathroom. "Get de fuck outta here," he spat.

Remy prided himself on his ability to wear yellow. Many men could not; it was a plain fact. It took style, grace, the right shades and tones, but most of all, confidence, in which Remy was swimming. As such, he sported a pale yellow button-down, thin and draping against every chiseled feature under the fabric, the sleeves rolled loose to his elbows. It wasn't tucked into his jet-black slacks, but complimented nicely with his shiny black belt and shoes. Remy knew he was attractive when he looked in the mirror. Everyone else knew he was attractive when he sauntered through the campus roads. Scott, less arrogant and making up for it in diffidence, strolled beside him.

"Are you nervous about your date?" Scott asked simply.

Remy shrugged. "Naw, not really. I've been on a few blind dates. Sometimes deir sexy, sometimes deir dogs, but I always manage to have fun wit' dem."

Scott looked thoughtful. "Heh, maybe you're not as shallow as I thought."

"Let's not start jumpin' to any crazy conclusions now, Summers." Remy grinned as they approached Marion Leigh.

Notes: We're going to find out a lot about our characters in the next chapter, as you can imagine. I know some things may still seem confusing at this point, like about the prep school or the students or their backgrounds, but alas, don't give up hope. It's coming!