"No, Professor Jenkins, you don't understand. There was a traffic jam." Tess was begging with her professor, pleading with him to show some leniency. The stuffy old man refused to give her attendance points for the day when she had been there for the majority of his long and boring lecture.
"Of course I understand. I was stuck in the same jam. The difference is, I still showed up on time."
"But I was only five minutes late," she reminded him.
"And during that five minutes I took attendance." Professor Jenkins smiled as though he were pleased with his stubbornness. "That's the way the cookie crumbles."
Tess ignored the cheesy expression and kept on trying, even though she knew it was hopeless. "But I was here for the majority of the time. And I was listening. I even took notes. I learned all about, uh . . . uh . . ." She squinted her eyes shut and twirled her hand around in the air, trying to come up with the word.
"Cells?" he filled in.
"Cells. Yes. I'm a cell aficionado now. Thanks to you." She smiled sweetly, playing one of the few cards she had left.
"I'm sorry, Ms. Harding," Professor Jenkins said, "but if I start to make exceptions for you, I'll have to make exceptions for everyone; and we can't have that, now can we?" He smiled again as though he were actually enjoying this reign of superiority.
"Professor Jenkins, I really need those attendance points," she said. "I'm already failing."
"Then my advice would be to get a tutor."
"Well, I have a tutor. She just hasn't started tutoring me yet." She made a mental note to get a hold of Liz sometime within the next few days if Liz didn't get a hold of her first. She didn't have her number, but she could always ask Maria . . .
And her life just kept on sucking.
"Nothing I can do," the professor said simply. "Now if you don't mind, I have a meeting with another student in five minutes, and unlike you, I never show up late." The professor grabbed his briefcase and stalked out of the lecture auditorium like a big, fat know-it-all. Tess growled low in her throat and sulked out of the room.
When she stepped outside, she had expected to see Max parked by the curb in his beloved black Porsche—one of three cars he owned—waiting for her. Actually, she hadn't expected to see that. She'd been hoping to see that. Max only followed through with fifty percent of the things he promised he would do, though, so when he had promised to pick her up after class, she'd known right then and there not to believe him.
"Dammit, Max," she grumbled. On a normal day, she could handle this. On a bad-mood day . . . not so much.
She had just begun walking down the sidewalk, thinking that things couldn't possibly get worse when suddenly they did. First she heard the loud roar of thunder, and then she felt the rain. It started to fall without warning, first as tiny droplets, and then as big, fat droplets, and before she knew it, it was coming down in sheets. She had no umbrella, so she picked up the first umbrella-like item she found—a discarded newspaper lying on the sidewalk—unfolded it and held it up above her head to try to give herself some sort of shelter from the storm. It wasn't very effective. In fact, some of the raindrops fell so hard that they punched holes right through the newspaper. So she ran.
She had rounded the corner around the back of the Student Union and was running, so focused on getting to the bus stop as fast as she could that she ran into a guy. "Sorry," she apologized, not even stopping to look at him. She just kept running.
"Tess?"
Great, someone who knows me, she thought, coming to a stop. She turned around, thinking that now wasn't the best time for a conversation with anyone, and she peered through the rain to see a semi-familiar face. "Kyle?" She should have known it would be someone like this Kyle kid. There were certain people she always ran into randomly.
"Hey," he said, coming towards her.
"Hey," she echoed, so jealous of the umbrella he was holding. And it was sort of pink, too. More red than pink, but still pinkish. Bonus.
"Where you goin'?" he asked.
"Bus stop," she replied, blinking as raindrops landed on her eyes. "My boyfriend was supposed to come pick me up, but he didn't show."
"Oh, well, I'm parked right over there in the commuter lot," Kyle said. "I could give you a ride."
She looked him over for a minute, wondering if she should. She didn't know him very well, but he seemed nice. He was always helping her, catching her when she was falling. Why not add a little rainstorm rescue to the résumé?
"Okay," she said. "Thanks."
He smiled and held out his umbrella. "Oh, here. Get under."
"Thanks." She littered her battered newspaper on the ground and let the wind take it away.
They had just walked a few feet beneath Kyle's umbrella when the wind caught it and flipped it upward into a bowl shape. "Oh, shoot," Kyle muttered, trying to regain control of it. He tried to get the umbrella back into its normal shape, but it seemed sort of stuck. Tess stood back and watched him struggle for a moment, wondering if she should try to help, but Kyle quickly gave up. He threw his now useless umbrella down on the sidewalk and said, "Run!"
She laughed a little, and they ran in the rain towards the parking lot.
...
"So just remember that sine and cosine graphs are continuous, but the others like secant and cosecant have asymptotes. Okay?" Liz plastered a fake, encouraging smile on her face as she worked with a college senior named Johnny at the tutoring center that day. He was by far the dumbest person she had ever met. Either that or he just had a crush on her and was pretending to be dumb to spend time around her. Traditionally idiots were great fuckers, so she figured she might try him out in bed sometime over the weekend. She really needed some good sex in her life.
"Alright, that makes sense," Johnny said. "Thanks, Liz."
"No problem." She kept that smile on her face until she spun around and walked away. She made her way over to her fellow tutor, Lynn, who was in turn walking towards her, and grumbled, "I swear, I've told this kid, like, fifty times . . ."
"Someone's here to see you," Lynn interrupted.
"Who?"
"I don't know," Lynn replied, "but he was asking for you."
He? She glanced over her shoulder, and her breath caught when she saw the source of all her agony and arousal. Max was sitting at a table all by himself, grinning at her, his hands folded together atop his lap.
"Stud-muffin," Lynn remarked. "He makes me wanna say 'so long' to lesbianism."
"Stick with lesbianism," Liz told her. As far as she could tell, her own life would be much easier if she liked girls.
She made her way over to Max, but she didn't sit down. She stood beside the table, crossed her arms over her chest, and glared down at him hostilely. "What're you doing here?"
"You're a tutor. I need tutoring," Max answered simply.
"You do not."
"Yes, I do," he insisted. "I'm failing . . ." He trailed off and began to laugh. "I have to be honest, I've got a 4.0 without even trying. It's almost too easy."
The man was always up for a challenge. "You should leave, Max," she suggested, turning to start away.
"You should sit down."
She knew she shouldn't have, but she stopped, turned back around, and slid into the chair across the table. "Make it quick," she bit out impatiently.
"Well, that's no fun." He leered at her suggestively, but she refused to show any sign of interest. This time. She had to play hard to get once in awhile, otherwise she would be as easy as his 4.0 grade point average.
"Come on, lighten up," he urged.
"I'm at work, Max."
"So?"
"So? You can't just barge in here and try to frazzle me and make me nervous and . . . get under my skin."
"Oh, I love being under your skin."
Dirty talk. It was a major trigger for the both of them. "Stop that," she said.
"Stop what?"
"Being you."
"But you like me."
"I loathe you," she informed him, and it was true. She did. But then again, she was the kind of person who had to loathe somebody to truly like them. "I don't understand why you're suddenly so into me."
"It's not sudden," he argued. "I've just been seeing you around a lot lately. I'm reminded of all the great sex we used to have together. It makes me hard."
"That was a fling, and it was a year ago. And you and Tess were broken up at the time."
"Maybe I just miss you," he said. "Maybe I just want you."
"Maybe you're just a jerk," she muttered.
"Or maybe . . ." He leaned in and lowered his voice. "Maybe it's the sheer erotica of it all. The fact that we shouldn't even be having this conversation right now, or the idea that if I were to bend you over this table and fuck you senseless right here in front of everyone, you'd love every second of it . . . maybe that's what turns us on."
Her mind flooded with images, and her body began to tingle with phantom feelings. She hadn't forgotten what it felt like to be joined to Max, never would. When they plastered themselves together like that, worlds shook.
"Just get out of here, Max," she managed, already planning a date with her favorite vibrator when she got home. She pushed the chair back and rose to her feet, walking away from him.
"I'm not asking you to be the other woman," he called after her, almost loud enough for other people to hear. "I'm asking you to be the only woman. Because Tess, compared to you . . . she's just a girl. A girl I like to play with."
She kept her back facing him and muttered, "Go play with yourself," as she went to help Johnny with his trigonometry again. She felt Max staring at her the whole time, but she refused to look at him. All she had to do was resist until Tess was no longer a factor. Then she could look at him all she wanted to.
...
Kyle pulled up in front of Tess's apartment complex and put the car into park. "Huh, The Links," he remarked. "Looks nice." Hell, had he known that Tess lived there when he had first gone apartment hunting, he wouldn't have even considered living in the Fairview complex.
"It is," Tess said. "My apartment's the cutest in the building, of course."
"Of course." He smiled nervously and said, "Well, try not to . . . get wet." He quickly realized how perverse that could sound and amended, "Stay dry, is what I'm saying. Stay dry."
"I plan on it." She reached for the handle on the car door, but stopped just as she was about to open the door and turned to look at him. "You wanna come in?"
"Uh . . ." He couldn't form sentences. "What? Did you . . . I mean, uh . . . what?"
"Come on, it's raining pretty hard. You shouldn't be driving in this kind of weather."
"I shouldn't?" he echoed questioning. "I mean, I shouldn't."
She laughed lightly. "Come on." She climbed out of the car and scurried towards the building, eager to get out of the rain.
"Oh, yeah," Kyle said to himself, getting out of the car. He slammed the door and sang some appropriate song lyrics. "He's a magic man!"
He followed Tess up the stairs to the third floor and down the hotel-like hallway to apartment 315. "Nice hallway," he remarked.
"Not bad," she agreed, inserting her key and pushing open the door.
Kyle stood in the doorway, and his mouth dropped open when he glimpsed the inside of Tess's apartment. "Wow," he said. "It's very . . . pink."
"My favorite color," she chirped, tossing her purse down onto the couch. "Come on in."
I can't believe I'm doing this, he thought, hesitantly stepping through the threshold. Wow. He wished he could think something more profound, but it was the only thought that crossed his mind. Wow. He was standing in the place where Tess Harding lived, where she slept, where she showered, where she had sex . . .
Wow.
"You wanna dry off?" she asked.
"How-how am I gonna do that?" he stuttered nervously.
"Get out of those clothes."
His eyes almost bulged right out of his head. "Excuse me?" What was she suggesting?
"Your clothes are soaked," she pointed out. "Max has some shirts and sweats stored here. He'll never even notice they're gone. He never notices anything unless it has a dollar sign attached to it." She hung her head and muttered that last part under her breath.
I feel bad for her, Kyle thought. He didn't know much about Max Evans, but he knew enough to know that he wasn't the world's greatest guy, that Tess deserved somebody better. "I'd love a change of clothes," he said, hoping to get her mind off her no-show of a significant other.
"Okay." She smiled at him and headed down the hallway, ducking into one of the bedrooms. Kyle took that opportunity to look around a little. He spied a picture of Max and Tess sitting on the end table next to the couch. Kyle picked up the frame and took a look at the photo. Max had his arm around Tess, and Tess had her head on his shoulder. They were both smiling close-mouthed, contented smiles, but neither one of them actually looked very content.
The back of the picture frame popped out, and Kyle quickly tried to pop it back in. Before he did, though, he noticed a second picture wedged back behind the picture of Max and Tess. It was a picture of Tess and Maria, apparently on spring break. They both looked a little younger and very drunk. And very pretty.
"Alright, here you go."
Startled, Kyle dropped the picture frame, and the picture of Maria and Tess fluttered to the ground right next to Tess's feet. "Sorry," he apologized. "I was just . . . sorry."
"That's okay," Tess's said, bending down to pick up the picture. She stared at it for a few seconds, then tore it in half and tossed both halves into the trash can.
"Sorry," he said again, setting the picture frame back up where it belonged. He wished he could tear that picture of Max and Tess apart. That would have been neat.
"Here you go," Tess repeated, handing him a handful of clothes.
"Thank you." He looked down at the clothes, then looked at her, wondering if she just expected him to drop his pants right in front of her. Probably not. That would be too good to be true.
"Bathroom's down the hall," she told him.
"Right." He laughed a little and made his way down the hallway to the bathroom. When he shut the door, he took a deep breath, trying to calm himself. "Oh, god." This was easily one of the best and most unexpected days of his life. All he'd been doing was walking along, coming back from class, and then Tess had ran right into him . . . fate. Had to be. Didn't it?
He really liked her.
He changed into Max's clothes, feeling slightly awkward in them. Max was taller, so the sweatpants were too long. He had to roll them up to keep them from dragging on the floor. Max's looser t-shirt only served to make Kyle look chubbier than he was. Plus, he was still soaked from the rain. He felt like a fat, wet bulldog. Dammit.
He came out of the bathroom self-consciously with his own clothes in hand, and when he saw the clothes that Tess had changed into, he was instantly aroused. "Whoa." She was now parading around wearing short, light pink shorts and a white, long-sleeved shirt.
"What?" she asked self-consciously. "Do I have humidity hair?"
"Oh, no, it's just . . . being here in you—your house . . ." Freudian slip. "Most girls wouldn't invite a guy they barely know inside. Inside the house." He chuckled, wishing he wasn't such a stammering idiot. "I must look really harmless."
"You do," she said. "Or maybe I'm just too trusting."
"Oh, no, no." He watched her sit down at her kitchen counter and take out a drawing pad. She was sketching something with colored pencils. "You draw?" he asked curiously.
"I design," she clarified. "Interior design major."
"Oh, me, too." He cringed, wondering why he would say such a dumb thing. "Except that I'm an art major."
"Totally different things."
"Yeah." He sighed heavily, suddenly thinking about how they were two totally different things. She was beautiful and popular and not a spaz. He, on the other hand, was amazingly un-cool and undeniably nervous.
"Well, it looks like the rain's letting up, so . . ." He trailed off, thinking it best not to overstay his welcome. He had already ramped up the geek-o-meter significantly today. He figured he'd better get out with a shred of coolness intact.
"Okay," she said. "Thanks for the ride."
"Thanks for the clothes." Although they looked horrible on him. "I'll bring 'em back tomorrow."
"No rush," she said. "Max probably won't even be by for awhile. He's gonna be Mr. Business with his dad tonight, and probably tomorrow night, and the night after that and the night after that . . ." She let her sentence fade and sighed disappointedly. "I'll see you, Kyle," she said. "Drive safe."
"You, too," he said as he backed towards the door.
She looked confused. "I'm not driving anywhere."
"Well, that's what I mean."
She made a face.
Oh, god what am I saying? he wondered. Get out now! "Bye!" His voice came out high-pitched and shrill, and he gave a dumb little wave.
"Bye," she returned, laughing at him a little.
He slipped out the door and breathed another sigh of relief and amazement in the safety of the hallway. He'd been in Tess Harding's apartment, and sure, it hadn't been sexy or romantic or perfect by any means, but still . . . he'd been in Tess Harding's apartment.
"Yes!" He leapt down the hallway and tripped over his own feet in a flurry of excitement.
...
Kyle knew exactly where he was going after he left Tess's apartment that day. Not back to his own apartment. Au contraire, the Guerin-DeLuca residence was his destination. He was absolutely high on life, and he needed to tell his best friend all about it.
He stepped off the elevator on the fifth floor just as Maria was coming out of 521. She was wearing a black leather mini-skirt and a low-slung gold halter that actually looked like a bunch of sequins glued together instead of any fabric.
"What're you dressed for, a night of prostitution?" he asked as he walked past her.
"No, a party," she replied.
"And the difference?"
"Uh!" she grunted, disappearing around the corner.
Whether she was heading out to a frat house or a street corner, Maria being gone was a good thing. Kyle didn't want her to know about his feelings for Tess. She and Tess weren't friends right now, but they would be friends again someday, and Maria liked to talk. If she knew, it would only be a matter of time before she let something slip . . .
"Michael, I need to talk to you," he announced as he swooped inside his friend's living space. He saw Michael standing in the living room behind his easel, staring at something on his canvas. His body remained relatively motionless and his facial expression relatively neutral, showing no indication that he had even heard Kyle come in.
"Hey, earth to Guerin," Kyle said, tripping over Maria's shoes (which were inconveniently lying right out in the middle of the floor) as he tried to make his way over to his friend. He was such a klutz sometimes. "Are you even listening to me?"
"No," Michael mumbled in response.
"Come on, you're gonna wanna hear this. It's really good, I promise. Oh . . ." Kyle trailed off emphatically when he stood beside Michael and saw what he was staring at. It was a picture of . . . well, it must have been of Maria, lying on the very same couch that was mere feet away from them now, covered only by a sheet. It sounded sexy in theory, but what Michael had painted was far from it. Or maybe he hadn't painted it. Maybe that was why it was so bad. "Did you paint that?" he asked.
"Yeah."
"So, what, you're illustrating a comic book or something?"
Michael gave him a warning look. "No."
"Graphic novel?"
"No."
"Oh. Well . . ." Kyle cringed, not sure what to say about something that sucked so entirely. "It looks really . . . unique."
"It sucks. You can say it."
"No, it . . . alright, it sucks," Kyle admitted.
Michael sighed heavily and went to sit down on the couch. "So what're you freakin' out about?"
"No, I'm not freaking out," Kyle said, sitting down beside him. "Well, maybe a little. You are not gonna believe the righteous day I had today."
"Righteous?"
"Uh-huh."
"Like church?"
Kyle made a face. "No. The other kind of righteous, the kind where you think to yourself, 'Hey, you know, this might be one of the greatest moments of my life.' You know why? 'Cause I never thought it would happen."
"What're you talkin' about?"
"Let me set the scene for you, alright? It's raining—since when does it rain in Santa Fe?—and I'm walkin' along, just mindin' my own business. Just got done with class. I was feelin' pretty crappy 'cause I got this lousy grade on my midterm paper for English and-"
"Kyle, just spit it out."
"No, you don't understand. I can't just spit it out, 'cause this is huge, okay? This is . . . about me, about something I've been keeping secret from everyone for awhile now. This is something you can't possibly know."
"Kyle, what're you saying?" Michael both looked and sounded mildly afraid. "Are you trying to say that you're-"
"I'm in love with Tess," he blurted, a huge smile on his face.
Michael just stared at him for a moment before he said, "Uh-huh."
...
Maria skipped her English class and went to Walgreens that day instead. Normally she would have gone shopping somewhere where she could burn a hole in her (or someone else's) wallet, but this wasn't so much a shopping spree as it was an errand. For a week now she had meant to stop by Walgreens and pick up a few fun but affordable decorations for Michael's birthday party. (His twenty-first birthday was quickly approaching.) Just some streamers, some balloons, maybe a happy birthday banner and some confetti. She didn't want the party to be too childish, but at the same time, she wanted it to be a little cliché. She'd never gotten to plan a birthday before. She needed birthday decorations.
She yawned, still recovering from the party she had attended last night, and trudged around the store looking for some kind of birthday aisle. First she found the Christmas aisle, glorious as ever, and on the other side of that was the birthday aisle. And standing right in the midst of that aisle with her hair pulled up in two curly, ditzy ponytails was Tess.
"What're you doing here?" Maria asked, freezing in place.
Tess shot her a death glare and asked the same. "What are you doing here?"
"Shopping."
"For what, the morning after pill?"
"Not this time. I mean no." Realizing that Tess had tricked her into that one, she muttered bitterly, "Bitch."
Tess rolled her eyes. "Whatever. I don't even have time for you."
"Oh, yeah, your hectic schedule." Maria went to stand beside her, surveying some of the decorations. White balloons. Hmm, if only they were longer; they'd suffice for condoms.
"I've got Graphic Communication in an hour. You see, unlike you, I actually make it to class."
"And unlike you, I actually make it to orgasm," Maria retaliated. "Graphic Communication. What the hell is that anyway, like dirty talk? 'Oh, professor, you're so huge. Stick it in me. Am I communicating graphically enough for you?'"
"It's communication with actual graphics," Tess explained. "Get your mind out of the gutter. Oh, wait, your mind lives there."
"Yes, it does, and it likes it there," Maria informed her. She spied the perfect metallic happy birthday banner hanging right in front of her next to the white balloons, and she reached for it; but just as she was reaching for it, Tess reached for it, too. They each grabbed onto one end and tried to seize it from each other. There wasn't another one just like it.
"Hey!" Tess yelped. "Give that back!"
"I saw it first," Maria claimed.
"No, you didn't. I was here first," Tess reminded her.
"Well, I'm cuter, so . . ."
"Oh, in your dreams!"
"Just . . . give it!" Maria pulled on the banner for the sake of competition more than anything else. She didn't want Tess to have it. "I need it more than you do."
"Uh-uh!"
"Yeah-huh. It's Michael's birthday Friday." She pulled on the banner once more, and it ripped right in half, right between the B and the I of birthday.
"Great!" Tess barked. "Now look what you did."
"Me? You were the one who ripped it!"
"How am I supposed to plan Michael's birthday party without a happy birthday banner?"
Maria wrinkled her forehead, confused by what she had just heard. "Wait, wait, wait, you think you're throwing Michael's birthday?"
"I am," Tess said confidently.
"No, I am."
"With what, your half a banner? Happy B-?"
"Well, it's better than –irthday."
"I'm throwing Michael's party," Tess said confidently. "You can't stop me."
"Shut up," Maria grumbled, upset by this recent development. She had been looking forward to this. Hell, it was going to be part of her present to him since she was too cheap to buy a real one. She made a sound of distress low in her throat and threw her half of the banner down on the floor and stormed off to find Michael. Tess followed her with her half of the banner still in hand.
...
Michael sat in his art history class, dutifully taking notes and trying not to nod off while the his professor rambled on and on about something to the entire lecture hall of students. All of a sudden, just as the professor began to talk about the Italian Renaissance, the door to the lecture hall opened, and two familiar figures flew inside.
"Michael!" both Maria and Tess gasped, out of breath as though they had been in a hurry to get there.
He froze, staring at them, wondering what the hell they were up to now. Individually, they were wild. Together, they were hurricanes.
"Where is he?" Maria said, looking around the lecture hall almost frantically before spotting him. "Oh, there he is. Hey, Michael!"
"Michael!" Tess echoed. She held up a banner that said –irthday and exclaimed, "Happy birthday!"
Hmm, he thought, and all this time I thought I was born on the 14th.
"Well, happy early birthday," she amended upon seeing his confusion.
"That's actually what we need to talk to you about," Maria said, stepping in front of Tess.
"Right now," Tess emphasized, bumping Maria aside with her butt.
"Right now," Maria agreed, bumping Tess in return. The two of them both stood there, looking all haughty and high and mighty, and he still didn't understand why they were there.
"I'm in class," he pointed out, embarrassed that his friends were interrupting the entire lecture hall.
Maria grunted. "So?" Before he could utter a response, she looked up into the back of the lecture hall and waved at somebody she knew. "Oh, hi, Brad." And then she just kept waving. "Hey, Marcus. Oh, Paul, is that you? You've gotten so much sexier since we did it. Hey, Dan. Oh, hey . . . sorry, forgot your name."
The professor cleared his throat and said, "Ladies, if you don't mind, we're in the middle of a discussion . . ."
"Yeah, I'm sure it's riveting," Maria muttered sarcastically. "Michael." She gestured emphatically for him to join her and Tess out in the hallway. "Come on."
"Come on," Tess resounded. "Michael . . ."
"Michael . . ."
He gave his professor an apologetic look and set his textbook and notebook down on the floor. "I'll be right back," he promised, rising to his feet. He slid out of the row of seats and walked down the stairs to the front of the auditorium to slip outside into the hallway to find out what crazy mischief his friends were getting into now.
"Alright, what the hell-"
"Did you tell Tess she could throw you a birthday party?" Maria asked in a rush of breath.
"What?" He couldn't even understand her.
"A birthday party," she repeated.
"I'm throwing you one," Tess piped up.
"No, I'm throwing you one." Maria spun around to glare at Tess. "God, could you be any more annoying? Get a life!"
"I have a life. I have a boyfriend, I have a major, I have a career ahead of me . . ."
"Would you two just shut up?" Michael interjected loudly. "You're givin' me a headache."
"You have to choose," Maria told him, looking at him with wide, lively eyes.
"Choose? Choose what?"
"Who's gonna throw your birthday party!"
Tess smiled confidently. "I think he'll choose me. I'm his friend."
"Well, I'm his friend and roommate, so he'd better choose me." She sort of growled out the last part, and that scared him.
"You're only his roommate because he's too nice to kick you out," Tess told her. And it was probably true.
Maria stomped her foot in frustration. "Michael, I'm seriously gonna lose my marbles if you don't tell this-this little slutbag here . . ."
"Slutbag?!" Tess shrieked. "Oh, this coming from the girl who was just like, 'Hey, Brad. Hey, sexy Paul. Hey, whatever-your-name-is.'"
"They're acquaintances."
"They're STD transmitters."
"Oh my god, I had a little bit of syphilis that one time; and you had it, too!"
"Only because what's his name from remedial science class got it from you first."
"Well, that's what you get for being so eager to get down on your knees."
"You are such a hypocrite!"
Michael rubbed his forehead, contemplating whether or not this was hell, and concluding that it was while Maria and Tess kept yelling back and forth between each other. Finally, he decided to just go back into the classroom and just leave them to their dispute. He had his hand on the door handle when they realized what he was doing. Each grabbed an arm and pulled him back.
"Where do you think you're going?" Maria demanded.
"Yeah, you have to choose," Tess said. "A Tess Harding party, which would be casual and contemporary, totally your style, or a Maria DeLuca party, which would be a kegger with cake."
"Choose, Michael," Maria ordered.
He glanced back and forth between the two of them, suspicious of their motives. This probably had little to do with his birthday and more to do with having something to do on Friday night. "Why do you guys even care? Why are you throwing me a party?"
"Because," Tess replied simply.
"Because," Maria likewise said. She and Tess exchanged a look, and she added, "You're turning twenty-one just this once, and you deserve a party."
"A Tess Harding party."
"A Maria DeLuca party. Far superior."
Michael kept looking at the two of them, and it didn't take him long to decide. It was pretty obvious what he had to do if he was to ever regain his sanity. He weighed out the pros and cons for each of them to hear. "Alright, well, Maria's got a point. She is my roommate. She's still trying to repay me for motivating her on that macroeconomics test."
"That's right!" she exclaimed.
"Of course, Tess has a point, too. Keggers are kinda your thing, not so much my thing. And if I remember correctly, the last party you threw resulted in the two of us picking up used condoms off the floor." He cringed.
Maria smiled nervously. "And it was fun."
"Now, on the flipside, there's Tess. And she's probably right. Her party would be more my style. Plus, she's an interior design major, so we know the decorations would be kick-ass."
"Hmm." Tess smirked. "Kick-ass."
"But, I don't know, if I piss Maria off . . . she'll punish me."
Maria grinned. "You'd like that, wouldn't you?"
He realized what she was talking about and made a face. "What? No, no. God. Okay, here's what I want: I want Maria to plan my birthday party."
Her face lit up in a smile.
"And I want Tess to plan it with her."
Her face fell into a frown. "What?"
"Yeah, what?" The two girls stared at him with shock-filled eyes and jaw-dropped mouths.
"There you go," he said. "I've made my decision." He smiled at them, praying to God that they would work out some of their issues over the next few days, and turned to walk back into his lecture auditorium.
"Well, re-decide," Maria told him.
"Yeah!" Tess called after him in agreement. "Re-decide! Michael!"
...
Maria let out a loud groan and sat down at a table outside the Student Union with her caramel macchiato in hand. "I can't believe he didn't decide to re-decide. Bastard."
Tess sat down across from her with her mocha in hand and said, "Look, it doesn't have to be this huge deal. It's a birthday party. It's not exactly rocket science."
"Oh, but Tess, everything above two plus two is rocket science for you." Maria smirked.
"Oh, yeah? Well . . . everything above one plus one is rocket science for you," Tess retorted.
"Everything above zero plus zero's rocket science for you, so there." She stuck out her tongue childishly.
"God, you always have to have the last word." Tess rolled her eyes in annoyance and shook her head. "Whatever. Can we just get started and get this over with?"
"If you would ever stop babbling."
Tess groaned and lay a spiral notebook down on the table. She opened it up to a blank page, took out a hot pink pen, and wrote Michael's B-Day at the top of the page, underlining it not once, not twice, but three times, each line perfectly parallel to the others. Maria watched in amazement as she doodled a couple of hearts and flowers, then looked up and said, "Okay, first order of business, the decorations."
Maria made a face. "The decorations? That's the easy part. Since you destroyed my first choice happy birthday banner, we'll have to find another one, but it shouldn't be too hard. Get a few balloons, a few streamers . . . that's all you really need. You don't even need any of that, technically."
"Sure you do," Tess argued. She began writing and talking out loud as she did. "Pink balloons and pink streamers . . ."
"Oh, no, not pink," Maria cut in vehemently.
"Why not?" Tess asked innocently.
Maria grunted in disbelief. "God, for someone who wants to be an interior designer, you sure have a lot to learn. Tess, use your very small brain and realize that pink is not a guy's color, and this is a guy's birthday party."
"But pink's the best color," Tess protested. "I learned all about color's role in perception in psychology last semester. When you think of pink, you associate it with love and harmony and all these wonderful things."
"Actually, when I think of pink, I think of you," Maria informed her. "And then I throw up."
Tess slammed her pen down on her notebook and said, "Well, if you're so smart, what should our color theme be?"
"Black and blue," Maria replied quickly.
"Why? Do we want the party to look like it got beat up?"
"Fine, then throw in a little white for good measure. My point is, they're masculine colors."
"They're not very festive."
Maria growled in annoyance and decided to try to meet Tess in the middle. For once. "Fine, green then."
"Green," Tess mused. "Well, as long as we keep it from looking too intergalactic, it should work." She crossed out the word pink on the paper in front of her and replaced it with green. "Uh, what else? Music?"
"Better let me take care of that. I've both seen and heard your CD collection. It's pretty much hideous."
Tess's mouth dropped open in offense. "Don't even. Britney Spears is classic and you know it."
Maria thought about it, about how many Britney tunes she constantly had stuck in her head, and she shrugged in admittance. "Well, that's true; she is. But Jessica Simpson is another story."
Tess smiled fondly and said, "You know, she did go into that sophomore slump with her second album, but then she picked it up on the third, ventured into songwriter territory, really reignited my interest in the pop scene in general."
"Garage band," Maria blurted suddenly as an idea occurred to her. "Yeah, you know, we could have live music. That'd be pretty neat."
"How are we gonna get live music?"
"I know these guys who've been playing together for, like, a year. They're pretty good. They do covers of songs and stuff."
"How do you know them?"
She smiled. "I slept with the drummer. And the bassist, actually. And the lead singer. And the guy who plays the tambourine."
"Tambourine?"
"Yeah, musicians are sexy. Actually, all creative guys are sexy. And if a guy's creative in everyday life, you know he's gonna be creative beneath the sheets." She grinned. "That must be how Michael kept Isabel as long as he did. They're so not a match otherwise."
"Probably," Tess agreed. "I hate girls like her, you know, who act all sweet and nice on the outside just to conceal their inner bitch."
"Yeah," Maria agreed. "At least you and I are upfront about it."
"Yeah," Tess agreed. "Okay, so you'll take care of the music . . . better not screw it up."
"I won't. But I probably will screw up the tambourine player again, if you know what I mean."
"You're so . . ." Tess trailed off, sighing, and shook her head. "Next order of business: the cake. What kind should we get? I'm thinking . . . vanilla."
"Chocolate," Maria blurted at the exact same time.
"Chocolate?" Tess echoed. "Ever heard of too much of a good thing? That's what chocolate cake is."
"Vanilla? Ew. It's so . . . vanilla."
"It's, like, the kind of cake that everyone likes," Tess pointed out.
"But chocolate cake is sexier and tastier," Maria reasoned.
"Look, I already compromised on the music. You should compromise on the cake," Tess suggested. "Half and half. Fifty percent chocolate, fifty percent vanilla."
"Seventy-five percent chocolate, twenty percent vanilla," Maria persisted.
Tess made a face. "What's the other five percent?"
"What?" Seventy-five percent and . . . "Oh, dammit, I can't do math. You know what I mean."
"Half and half," Tess repeated. "Okay?"
Maria sighed in resignation. "Fine."
"Good." Tess kept jotting notes down and said, "Let's see, what else is there?"
Maria took a sip of her macchiato and replied, "Stripper."
"What?"
"Yeah. Come on, Tess, you gotta think like a guy."
"But Michael's not a guy," Tess said. "He's . . . Michael. He's not into that sort of thing."
"Um, he hasn't gotten laid since Isabel left," Maria pointed out. "I'd say a stripper's pretty much a necessity."
"He's not gonna have sex with a complete stranger."
"He will if we get him drunk enough."
"He doesn't drink."
"He doesn't drink much, but he does drink," Maria informed her. She'd seen him drink with her own eyes. Twice now. Once a few years ago, and once at the Halloween party. It was really an unnatural sight to say the least. "Okay, so here's what I'm thinking: we spike Michael's drink, make him, like, completely non-resistant. The stripper fucks him right and proper, and he's much, much happier from here on out." She smiled, liking her idea.
Tess stared at her, open-mouthed, incredulous. "You're completely crazy."
Maria rolled her eyes. "Fine, we won't spike his drink. But we do need a stripper. Even if it doesn't result in sex for the birthday boy . . . all good parties have them."
"Oh my god," Tess muttered. "Fine, I'll let you get the stripper."
"Actually, I already have someone in mind," Maria said. "You remember those strippers I had at my nineteenth birthday party, Paulo and Monique?"
"Oh, yeah." Tess's face lit up. "That was a fun party."
"I know. Anyway, I ran into Monique the other day. She's either fat or pregnant, but she told me her little sister Monica's started stripping; if she's anything like Monique, Michael won't be unsatisfied."
"Fine, Monica the stripper," Tess decided. "Let's move on, please. Um . . . I guess we should figure out who we're gonna invite."
Maria shrugged. "Everyone."
"Uh, don't you think Michael would prefer something a little smaller?"
"Michael would prefer to be curled up on the couch spending his birthday watching the news," Maria informed her. "We need to get him to come out of his shell."
"I just think a lot of people tends to result in a lot of craziness," Tess explained, "and he didn't seem too happy about that last time with the Halloween party."
"That Halloween party kicked ass," Maria informed her, "until you and Max got there."
"That was when the party started," Tess shot back. "Okay, we'll talk guests later, because that's gonna take awhile, and I have class in ten minutes."
"Sickening."
"Oh, one last thing, though," Tess added. "Where are we having this party? We can't have it at Michael's place. He won't like that."
"Um, FYI, it's Michael's and my place," Maria reminded her, "okay? And, uh . . . actually, I hate to admit it, but you're probably right. Maybe we should have the party at our place." She caught her slip-up and quickly corrected herself. "Your place."
"It's pink, though. You were anti-pink."
"Oh, fuck," Maria swore. "Well, maybe Marty . . ."
"No Marty," Tess decided emphatically. "He'll make me listen to Celine Dion songs again, and I can't handle it. Besides, his place is like a whorehouse for gay men."
"Oh, this is true," Maria agreed.
"Maybe Max-"
"Oh, don't even finish that sentence!" Maria shrieked. "I will never ask Max for anything remotely resembling help. We are not having the party at his place."
"It was just a suggestion," Tess said, "and unless you can come up with something better . . ."
Maria thought about it for a moment, and then it dawned on her: Kyle. Kyle's apartment was a great place for a party. It was just as nice as Michael's and spacious enough that the band would have room to set up. "I've got it," she proclaimed proudly. "Do you remember Kyle Valenti? We went to that party with him that one time."
"Everyone says that, but I don't remember," Tess said. "But yeah, I do know who he is. I've been running into him lately. He's Michael's friend, right?"
"Yeah, they're best friends, and Kyle lives in the apartment right next door to Michael and me. It's, like, the perfect place to have a party. I don't even know why I didn't think of it before. I'm so mentally challenged."
"Gotta agree with you on that," Tess mumbled. "Well, there we go. You can just talk to Kyle and make sure he's cool with it."
"Yeah . . ." Maria thought of Kyle's hopeless crush on Tess, and even though she knew it wouldn't do any good, she saw an opportunity to help push him forward in his efforts. "You know what, maybe you should be the one to suggest it to him," she said.
"Me?" Tess echoed.
"Yeah. Something tells me he'll be a lot more responsive to you than he'd be to me."
Tess gave her a confused look and agreed to it. "Okay. I mean, if you guys don't get along or something . . ."
"Oh, it's not that."
"I'll talk to him," Tess said, closing her notebook. "Well . . . you know, I actually think we . . . might have gotten something accomplished here." She smiled, seeming surprised by that. "I didn't think it was possible, you know, but we kind of . . . work well together. Maybe."
Maria grunted. "Speak for yourself. I'm still pissed about the cake compromise."
Tess laughed a little and stood up with her notebook and her coffee in hand, her purse slung over her right shoulder. "I gotta get to class. We'll . . . talk later."
"Yeah." Maria remained sitting, watching her walk away. This party-planning with Tess had almost felt like old times. Almost. Of course, once Michael's birthday had come and gone, they would go back to being the way they were. There was just a certain point where two people realized they couldn't be best friends anymore, and she and Tess had already reached that point. It wasn't as if they could go back now. It wasn't as if she wanted to.