Poison

[ 3 ]

"I try but whenever we're in the room together, she's either blasting music and getting ready for a party with her friends or is too hungover to function," I retort with a scoff. "Believe it or not, she spends the majority of her weekdays in the library studying."

"She sounds very promising," Maya mumbles as she scratches the back of her head. "Well, just know that my apartment is always open if you need a place to crash; literally, we never lock it."

"Thanks," I reply with a small smile. If I knew her better, I'd probably take her up on that offer. I don't want to seem like a burden by inviting myself over, especially not so last minute.

"No, seriously, I mean it," she presses. "My freshman year roommate would practically kick me out every weekend. She and her friends would take over the room and I'd be left sleeping on the lounge couch. You don't want to sleep on a lounge couch. I wouldn't want you to sleep on a lounge couch. There were some weird stains on those couches, man...really weird stains."

"I'd hold you to it if I felt like your housemate wouldn't call the police," I joke back.

"Trust me, you'll be fine," she insists with a wave of her hand.

"Thanks, Maya," I comment as I rub my eyes. "Well, I think I'm going to go to the library and use one of those computers to get stuff done."

"Good luck," she replies with a thumbs up. "Are we still on for 5?"

"Yes," I nod as I exit the coffee shop, grumbling quietly about my selfish roommate as I do.

+++

I manage to wiggle my way into my room a little past 4. Danica is nowhere to be found and I don't mind one bit. In a frustrated flurry, I grab my backpack and coat and leave the room. As I'm heading to my car, Maya texts me and tells me that she's out of work and that I can come over whenever as opposed to the scheduled 5 o'clock session. I ask her if she wants a ride and she agrees, so I drive my car to her place of employment.

"You got your bag!" she cheers when she sees it in the backseat.

"Yeah, I took a risk and unlocked the door. She wasn't there, thankfully," I explain as I wait for her to buckle her seatbelt. When she does, I start down the street. "How was your shift?"

We make conversation and she tells me a funny story about a coworker of hers and how hard it is to tell if she's into girls or not. She concludes the story by saying that either way, coworker relationships are messy. After a few seconds of thought she adds that if the girl is into her that she'd risk it...probably. She turns the conversation over to me. "What about you? Are you dating anyone?" she inquires.

"Nope," I answer with a shrug.

"Was that insensitive?" she asks as she bites her fist. "I remember you telling me you just went through a breakup."

"No it wasn't and yes I did–a few months ago now," I explain casually as I make a right turn.

"Is your heart still in shambles?" she questions with quirked brows.

"Psh, no," I quickly dismiss as I pull onto her street. "I've moved on already."

"Seriously?" she asks in slight surprise.

"Yes," I inform her. "That relationship was not the best and if we're being honest, I don't think I was ever fully in it."

"Damn..." she trails as she stares at the cars passing us. "Are you trying to get back out there yet? Or too soon?"

"I'm not opposed to putting myself out there. I just...don't," I explain vaguely. There isn't much else to it. "Plus, guys never really approach me and I'm really picky."