Afterwards, when the party has dispersed and the empty bottles are hidden in the trash, he sits at the study desk on his side of the room we share. He no longer looks at me. We live together off-campus, sharing a place with a girl a few years ahead of us who is in no real danger of graduating any time soon. This is only my second semester, but he’s been here a while now and is so serious sometimes, it hurts.
It hurts us.
He’s my first in every way. First friend, even, if you’ll believe it. We grew up next door to each other, and my mother used to ask him to watch me when she ran out to the store. He’s five years older than me but was held back in the third grade because he was home in bed with mono that year. The age difference is there but he doesn’t seem all that much older than me. He
