Forgive Us Our Trespasses Read online

  Brooks

  “Ahhhh!”

  “Oh, my God, call security!”

  “Shhh, we can take care of them ourselves.”

  The high-pitched screams and threats of ball removal rouse me from my blissful sex dream. I moan, but the shrills continue, only making the throbbing in my head worse, and forcing whatever I drank last night to rise to the base of my esophagus, ready to spew out at any moment. I’m totally hung-over, and whoever left the television on will die.

  “Turn it off,” I hear Will grumble. “My head feels like it’s going to pop off.”

  His words are met with more screams, prompting me to open my eyes. Staring right back at me, no more than an inch from mine, are the most beautiful eyes I’ve ever seen. They are this funky combination of hazel, brown, and green; it’s like they just can’t make up their mind. I’ve never seen anything like them, and they instantly pull me in.

  “Carly, you were wrong; he’s absolutely alive,” she says, backing away from me. I lurch backwards on the bed to gain control of my surroundings. I take a look around to see pink plastered everywhere, except for the purple zebra-print blankets that Will is rolled up in–a far cry from our simple blue and grey comforters in our room.

  I scan the room, taking note of each angry face until I land on the girl with the eyes. Now that I get the full picture of her, the eyes are no longer what I notice; it’s her complete package. She is absolutely gorgeous. She has chestnut hair but it looks like there are streams of fiery red tones woven throughout. I swear the girl is a walking contradiction, like her features couldn’t make up their mind, so she was blessed with a little of everything. It’s piled on top of her head, and she doesn’t give two shits about it, or that she has no make-up on. Really, neither do I; she is a stunning creature just the way she is.

  I know I’m in the wrong room for sure; I just hope to Christ that I didn’t fuck any of them. And if I haven’t, then hopefully this isn’t my floor so that I can have a go at Red. I can feel myself just staring at her, but she looks away, like I’m making her feel uncomfortable. Considering the circumstances, I can understand her discomfort, but still, I usually get at least a small flirtatious smile back from the opposite sex. She’s giving me nothing, zilch, nada; I’m gum under her shoe that she stepped in and fucked up her morning.

  “Okay, assholes, fun’s over,” the petite curly-haired blonde demands, shaking the mattress of the bed with her foot. Oh, yeah, this is the ball-buster of the crew; she has that air about her. At all costs, I try to avoid those, but it never fails, the ones I want are always hidden behind the female-muscle of the gang. And this little waif is Red’s muscle. If I want any chance in hell, I need to smooth things over with this feisty little thing.

  “Up, boys. You passed out in the wrong room; time to go,” the curvy brunette intercedes, trying to mediate the awkward situation. If Red wasn’t in the picture, her curves would absolutely be on my radar, but they pale in comparison to who is standing next to her.

  “I apologize, ladies. It was very late when we got home last night,” I say, trying to mend the strained introductions. “I was so worried about getting my friend Will to bed, that I didn’t check the room number, and it was so dark in the dorm, I didn’t notice the décor.”

  The girls look to Will to back up my story–nope, they don’t trust me. I take no offense; I get that a lot. Will gives them a pathetic wave and smile, embarrassed by the situation. I just hope that he hasn’t pissed their bed, which would take this to a whole new level. “We really are sorry, girls; this was an honest mistake. I don’t even remember getting home. Are we at least on the ninth floor?” he asks.

  His soft, easy tone lifts a weight off the girls, and I can see that we—well, at least, he–have been forgiven. The teddy bear strikes again; I knew I liked him for a reason.

  “You’re in room 913,” Red pipes up, and I zero in on her. The sound of her voice is like a melody that I could never get tired of. It’s dripping with sweetness, and I want nothing more than to see if I can make it turn raspy.

  I think for a minute about my home court rule and how willing I am to break it, but looking at Red once more, I bounce off the bed and stand before her. “Well, it looks like we are next door neighbors,” I tell her, leaning in close enough that I can catch a glimpse of her eyes again. “I guess we will get to know each other pretty well after all.” I whisper the last bit, tucking a piece of renegade hair behind her ear. I’m trying my damnedest to let her know that I’m more than interested, but she looks away from me and takes a step back like I’m shit on a shovel. I like a challenge, but fuck, throw me a bone, woman.

  Will comes up behind me and slaps my back; I can hear his low rumble of a chuckle at my obvious rejection. “Looks like you’re barking up the wrong tree, Brooks. You may need to walk away while you still can.”

  “I’d listen to the Hulk there, buddy. My girl Vivian is country, and you just never know what those country folks will do,” miniature bitchy girl says, crossing her arms across her chest like it’s some kind of threat. Yeah, okay, totally frightened, I think sarcastically.

  I disregard everything that cunt-o-licious has to say, except for the one nugget of crucial information–Vivian, she told me Red’s name. It fits her perfectly. Vivian looks strong and warm, and I want to curl around her, feel every inch of her. The rest of it, well, it’s an empty threat. Country or not, Vivian could never hurt anyone, I know her kind; she’s as rare as they come. She’s not the type to cause hurt; she’s the type that gets hurt.

  “Let us make it up to you,” I say, giving Vivian some space, but maintaining as much eye contact as she will allow, which isn’t much. “Let us walk you to the dining hall for breakfast, or let us take you girls out tonight. Since we’re neighbors and all, we might as well get to know each other. You never know when it will be handy to have guys right next door.” Yes, there is a double meaning in that, but from the eye rolls I receive from the mean one, and smiles from the other two, not everyone catches the hidden meaning.

  “Thank you, but we have a girls’ day planned, and then we are going to Suite 152 to dance tonight,” Curves says. “I can’t imagine that you guys would like to dance, so maybe we can hang out some other time.”

  “Fair enough,” Will agrees. The boy hates to dance, which is good since he barely has enough coordination to walk, but she left the door open for another invitation. Fuck, he needs some lessons in conversing with the opposite sex. At least he finishes introductions; I have to give him that. “This is my roommate Brooks, and I’m Will.”

  “Nice to meet you,” Curves smiles. “I’m Carly; this is Jen,” she points to the short callous one. “And you met Vivian. We are still waiting on our fourth roommate to show up; her name is Campbell, but that’s all we know.”

  “Well, it’s great to meet you all, even under such weird circumstances. We really are sorry if we scared you,” I say. “It would be great to hang out sometime; come over whenever you want.” I direct the last line towards Vivian, but she doesn’t even give me a second glance, which I’m not going to lie, hurts a little. I want her to notice me like the other girls do. I usually have to bat them away, and this girl couldn’t care less.

  Will pushes me along, and we head toward their front door. We aren’t even completely in the hallway before Jen slams the door behind us. So glad I met her; she is one awesome gal. They may not have accepted our invitation right now, but I have every intention of being a thorn in their sides until I find an angle to get to Vivian. In one single meeting, it has become my mission of the semester to have this girl any way I can get her.

  Vivian

  Since Saturday morning, I have tried to avoid our new neighbors, but I swear Brooks is stalking me. I go to the vending machines in the front lobby, he’s there. I go to the basement laundry to wash my favorite jeans for dancing, and he’s there. I’m now sitting in my first class of the semester, English Composition, and guess who walks through the door? Yup, Brooks.
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  I know guys like him; Amanda is constantly dating boys who treat girls the way I’m sure he does. Who am I kidding? Amanda is Brooks’ female equivalent. They use people to get what they want, and then leave them heartbroken and clueless when their usefulness has expired. Brooks is no mystery; his goal is to sleep with anything and everything. He sees me as a number, a notch on his bedpost, and when he’s completed his challenge, he would throw me away like I was nothing. Well, he has targeted the wrong girl. No matter how unbelievably gorgeous he is. I can use images of him to take care of myself after Jen takes me to get my new special purple friend. I don’t need to experience the real thing, not if it means risking myself in the process.

  Waves of students file into the classroom and I slouch down in my seat, looking down at my notebook, hoping that Brooks won’t see me and will walk right by. No such luck. He slides into the seat across the row and leans across the aisle to get my attention. I peer at him from the corner of my eye, hoping that maybe if I pay him no attention he’ll go away.

  “Hey, Red,” he says, giving me his best smoldering grin.

  I try to remain unaffected, but I am a girl after all. This is a guy whose looks demand attention. He walks into a room and everyone, girls and guys alike, takes notice. I never thought I would consider a man as beautiful, but Brooks truly is. His jet-black hair is just messy enough that it makes me want to run my fingers through it. His cerulean blue eyes are like never-ending pools that are perpetually inviting me to dive into them. Once I let my eyes roam though, it’s easy to notice the amazing physique that he has under his dark jeans and blue button-up shirt that somehow enhances the color of his eyes. It takes every bit of willpower not to melt like every other girl that passes his desk. The difference is those girls think he might fall in love with them and they would live happily ever after. I imagine that this semester many will find out the hard way that he has no interest in such emotional attachments. I know what I am to him, and I respectfully decline the opportunity, no matter how cute he is.

  “Hello, Brooks, it’s nice to see you again,” I say pleasantly. I figure maybe if I try to be his friend, it will stop his pursuits, and this crush I have will slowly fade. When he moves his chair closer to mine, I realize that may not be the best plan of defense.

  “You know, I’m not really great at writing papers; I could always use a study partner,” he says, whispering the last part of the sentence. His hushed voice causes my body to shake from the inside out until I feel every inch of my skin vibrate. I never react to guys this way; in fact, I typically try to stay clear of them as much as possible, and guys like Brooks, I need to avoid like the plague.

  “I’m sure you’ll manage just fine,” I tell him, moving my desk away from his. Overhearing our conversation, the brunette behind him interrupts.

  “Well if she won’t help, I would be more than happy to help in any way that I can,” she purrs, leaning forward to touch his shoulder. Oh, yeah, I’m sure she would give him a hand–more like she’d offer some vagina to go with that Shakespeare. Her well-endowed chest pouring out of her tiny shirt and the overdone make-up she has plastered all over her face provides a pretty clear picture of the kind of help she would like to provide.

  Brooks turns around to address her, and when I see him smile, I have to hold myself back from jumping across the aisle and stabbing her with my pencil. This pang of jealousy is something new, and it’s not a good color on me. Besides, I only have a mechanical pencil; it wouldn’t leave enough of a mark. I need to remember to start bringing good ole number twos to class.

  Before he can answer, the professor, Dr. Vauldin, walks in and immediately begins passing out the course syllabus and discussing class expectations. For an entire fifty minutes I keep my eyes forward, desperately trying to forget about whatever flirting extravaganza may or may not be going on behind me. I know the best thing for me will be to see Brooks with someone else, that it will help me get over whatever this is, but holy shit, the idea of it makes me angry.

  The instant Dr. Vauldin ends his long-winded, mind-numbingly boring tirade on the importance of correct grammar in all compositions; I spring out of my seat in an attempt to ditch Brooks and his little tag-along. Walking through the doors and hitting the fresh air, I feel like I can finally breathe again. It’s like his presence sucks all of the air out of the room, and I’m left to survive on whatever he leaves behind. I need to get away from him.

  I don’t make it far down the hallway before he catches me, landing his arm across my shoulders. “Wait up, Red; you didn’t need to run off. I can walk you to your next class; I have an hour before my next one starts.” It makes my stomach flip-flop, and my defense mechanisms kick in to high gear. I shoot him a look of disdain and he removes his arm, immediately placing his hands at his sides. I feel the loss as soon as he takes it away, and I have to remind myself that it’s better to not get involved with someone like him.

  “Thanks, but I have a break, too. I was going to go back to my dorm and see if Campbell has finally showed up.” I see Will and Jen just outside the exit of the lecture building, so I move quickly to try to get to them; they can serve as my Brooks buffer. Even though he took his hand away, he’s still walking very closely.

  Just before we reach the exit, another class lets out and a crowd of people rush into the hallway, forcing us to stop. “So, Vauldin’s class is going to be rough to get through,” I mutter, trying to make friendly small talk; running from him isn’t exactly working.

  “Seriously, if you weren’t in there, I would strongly consider dropping the class.” The Brooks charm is back in full force. I stare at him, considering my options. Do I go for it and go on a date with him? Maybe he’s not as bad as I’ve made him out to be. Do I put him in his place so that he’ll leave me alone for good? Or do I avoid the situation by dropping the class myself, maybe even transferring dorms? Because that is totally sane and logical, and I’m sure my mom would understand. Luckily, I don’t have to make the choice.

  “Brooks! I was hoping to run into you today,” exclaims a decent-looking blonde with legs for days. She snakes her arms around Brooks’ waist, and rests her head on his shoulder like she’s staking her claim of him. She looks at me and I see the competition in her eyes; she’s threatened by me and wants me to know that she is going to win. I brace myself for what’s going to come next, because in girl-world, this type of fight usually isn’t pretty. Brooks, on the other hand, looks embarrassed and unsure of how to proceed. Yup, that karma is a bitch, isn’t it, buddy.

  “Sondra, what a surprise,” he mutters with a half-smile. It looks like he’s starting to sweat a bit, and I almost want to laugh. Here I thought maybe I could bend my rules and see past his arrogance, but thankfully, fate stepped in just in time to show me his true Douche McGee status. I almost feel sorry for him; the scenario is not ideal: previous weekend make-out buddy shows up while in progress of hitting on new make-out buddy target.

  “Saturday was wonderful; we are going to have to do it again sometime. I had no idea guys could be so dexterous with their fingers, and what you did with your tongue…I’m pretty sure is illegal in several states.” Her statements are directed at both of us–an invitation for him, and a warning to back off for me. I feel my face scrunch in disgust that I’m privy to this conversation, but then sympathy I had for Brooks is now nonexistent. “Thank goodness I’m so flexible, or we never would have been able to fit in that club bathroom.”

  My eyes widen and I choke on my own saliva. The Skank-o-meter blares in my head, and I look to Brooks to confirm that not only is she a slut-puppy, but that he may in fact have gonorrhea from his bathroom tryst. With guilt written all over his face, he evades my eyes and looks down at the floor, which gives me all the confirmation I need to stay away from him.

  “There’s no need to say anything, Brooks; she didn’t say anything that would surprise me. But something that I guess would shock you is I’m not that type of girl who’ll blow someone in a public bathroom,
nor am I into one-night-stands. So, whatever you thought you were going to get from me isn’t going to happen,” I try to make my voice as commanding as possible. I take him off-guard and he stares at me like I’ve beaten his dog or something. “Besides,” I say, pointing to Legs, “it looks like you have more than enough volunteers to fill up your punch card.”

  I turn on my heel, leaving Brooks with his bathroom Barbie behind. I walk the remaining distance to the courtyard where Will and Jen are. I’m hoping they will help clear my mind of the guy I actually wanted, who proved he is exactly what I shouldn’t.

  Brooks

  When Sondra found me in the hallway and said those things in front of Vivian, I wanted the tiles of the floor to split in half and swallow me whole. Not because I fucked some girl in the bathroom of a night club—shit, I’m proud of myself for remembering her name–no, what embarrassed me is that Vivian heard it. For the last month, I’ve showed up to English Comp class excited to see her, and she always smiles politely and gives me a little wave hi, but then ignores me.

  The girls have adopted Will as their official fifth roommate; I, on the other hand, am probably just tolerated because I’m with him. Our other bedroom was left open, so Will and I are the only ones in our dorm; I can’t exactly complain about that. Four guys living together…I can’t imagine it always being pleasant. At least there will always be toilet paper in the suite. I’ve heard stories of guys having to wipe their asses with notebook paper because their roommate can’t manage to replace the roll. No, thank you. However, it would be nice to have some other testosterone around.

  Will has turned into an excellent wing-man, but he has hooked up with very few girls himself. Considering that, and the amount of time he spends with our neighbors, I was worried I was going to have to do some detective work and figure out if he had a vagina. When he joined the intramural rugby team, he put my mind at ease a bit. I’ve been to a few games, and fuck, those guys are crazy! No vaginas allowed, for sure. I usually tag along and go to the games to watch, and when I see Will after the game with Vivian, I can barely contain myself. There isn’t anything going on between them, but it still pisses me off to no end that she thinks so little of me, and yet so freely spends time with him. When I see her hanging out with Will, watching movies and eating in the dining hall together, my jealousy spikes, and I swear I could spit nails. When I first met Red, I was merely interested in fucking her, but the more I’ve been around her, she has somehow found her way under my skin. I’ve used half of the female population on campus to try to exorcise her from my body, erase her from my mind, but then I see her, and she wiggles right back in.