Phone Game Chapter 1 By Roe St. Alee
This story contains sexual content involving college age males. If this offends you, or this material is illegal where you live, please leave this page immediately. This story is a work of fiction, and any similarities to real life people, places, and situations is purely a coincidence.
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I toss my backpack down on my bed and take a deep breath. This is it.
At this exact instant, my parents are in the car and driving away. In just under three hours (assuming my mom is driving at her usual speed) they'll be at home, and I'll still be right here. Three hours away and no longer living under their roof.
On my own and just two days away from officially starting classes at Walton College. In forty-eight hours, I will be starting my freshman year.
It's hard to believe.
A moment I've lived for my entire life up to this point - especially the last 18 months - and now I'm living it.
With another look around the room, I take it all in. It isn't much, but it's more mine than anywhere I've ever lived before.
My half of the dorm room is more or less how I imagined it. Simple, tidy, and lightly decorated. A few pictures and other things to remind me of home, but nothing like some of the rooms I saw this summer when I was visiting my cousin in New York. No posters or tapestries, no crazy lofts or extra pieces of furniture, just the basics.
Kind of like me, actually. Nothing flashy or too exciting. Simple and sensible. The basics.
My roommate's side, on the other hand, is empty.
He has been here, but I'm not sure where any of his stuff is. There is a class schedule, apparently stuffed into a pocket at some point, judging by the slight curve and wrinkling present. And then a campus dining guide next to it, open to the middle page.
And that's it.
If it was completely empty, I would understand. Maybe he hadn't been here yet. Maybe he was showing up to the dorms tomorrow, after our first day of freshman orientation. Or maybe something happened and he wasn't coming at all.
But that isn't the case. He's clearly been here.
I had been hoping to meet him right away today, as I don't have much of anything else to do. I figure I'll meet my floor tomorrow, and a few other students during orientation, but for tonight I was planning to hang out with my roommate. I don't know anyone else at the school, and don't know o any other events happening until this weekend.
I should have said something, I guess.
We've talked a few times via email, and I think we'll get along. We seemed to work well together when talking about what each of us would bring to the room. He had the mini fridge covered and I have a microwave. I have a nice bluetooth speaker that I got for graduation and he said he could bring a shelf that fit in the space next to the door.
And while I'm here with all my stuff, Joshua is nowhere to be seen.
I don't do well with things like this.
It isn't that I'm not a patient person, it's just when something is bound to happen, I need it to happen. Or I need something else to do.
Which is how I find myself, twenty minutes later, polishing off my second mile on the south side of campus.
Lake Olmstead takes up a significant part of our campus, and there are paved and gravel paths circling it that I've heard are great for jogging. It must me a well-known thing, because even with campus mostly empty the week before the semester starts, there is no shortage of students running around the lake.
I stay out for another thirty minutes or so, and eventually decide to head back because it's getting dark. I could probably run another hour if I wanted to, but it's best if I take it easy, as I'll have a long day ahead of me tomorrow.
I slow down my pace for the half mile back to the dorm, and by the time I get there I'm cooled off sufficiently. My hair is damp with sweat and there's a bit on my shirt, but I'm not dripping or anything, despite the warm temperature on this late-August day. I don't mind running when it's hot, but I can't stand going inside while I'm still sweating like a pig.
The second my dorm is in sight it hits me.
I didn't bring my key card.
I made the fatal mistake when I was getting ready to run. I had put on my favorite pair of running shorts, but then had second thoughts. They are short. And maybe a little bit too short for day one of college. If I met anyone while I was out, I figured my bottoms should be covering more than one inch of my thighs.
And when I put on a more modest pair of shorts, I failed to transfer my key card to them. And now, on my very first day at college, I am locked out of the dorms.
I walk timidly up to the doors of the building and give them a pull. Locked.
And of course they are. The doors are here to keep up safe. They won't do us much good in that department if they let just anyone in.
I think about the layout of the building and if there are any other ways to get inside. And while I don't think of any brilliant plans, I do realize that even if I can get into the building, I still won't be able to get into my hall. And even if I get into my hall, I won't be able to get into my room.
Day one. Way to go, Jake.
I'm sure by this time tomorrow I'll know what I'm doing. I'll learn all about our lockout procedures during orientation, I have no doubt. But for now, I have no idea what I'm supposed to do. I'm a clueless freshman wandering around outside the dorms, wondering how he could ever be so stupid.
Now I'm extra glad that I didn't wear the short shorts.
"Can we help you?"
A thick southern drawl cuts through my thoughts like a spoon through honey. I turn around to see who is talking to me.
"Lost?"
A guy and two girls are approaching the doors, and I am in their way. One of the girls just spoke, a pretty girl with dark skin and wavy black hair. She's perky and smiling, and her question was good-natured, although I can't help but feel she's poking fun at me.
The other girl is even better looking, a knockout blonde with short hair and, if I can trust my eyes in the dusky light, a very fit body. She looks like a runner to me, although even if I'm wrong she is almost certainly some kind of athlete. Regardless, I'd certainly like to catch a glimpse of her in the daytime.
The guy is the one with the drawl apparently, and he seems to be the leader of the group. He steps forward and looks me up and down, sizing me up. I do the same to him, and while I can't see too well, I can tell that all three of these guys are older. Upperclassmen.
"Oh, I know," he says, looking knowingly at the blonde. "You locked out?"
I pick up on more of his tone this time, and it seems to match that of the girl who spoke before. It's friendly.
"Yeah," I say.
The word comes out awkward. A little squeaky. Betraying a clear lack of confidence. Friendly or not, these are upperclassmen, and while I didn't think so at first, I can't pretend I'm not intimidated.
"I was... I was out for a run," K add.
"I see that," he says, glancing at my shorts and the sweat stains on my shirt. "What's your name?"
My name? He wants to know my name?
I feel my cheeks getting hot under the pressure of his question. Why am I getting so flustered?
He isn't a big guy by any means. Just a few inches taller than me, and while he is clearly older, even at a glance, I don't think think he's much bigger than me. On second thought, he might be a runner too, based on his build.
But I'm nervous, and I don't think it's solely because of him. It's everything. It's my first day, I'm a freshman, I'm talking to upperclassmen, and two of them happen to be very attractive females. Plus, I'm locked out of the dorm, a classic move from a newbie.
"You do have a name, don't you?"
"It's Jake," I suddenly blurt out. "Jake Spitzer. Sorry."
The southern boy shakes his head.
"Yep," he says, "I knew it. You're one of mine."
Both girls laugh and I feel my cheeks get even hotter. I'm thankful that it's just about night time and no one can see it.
"Let's get you inside."
The four of us head into the building, with the guy claiming to have me as one of his own leading the way. Once we get inside, the two girls head to the left, toward the girl's wing of the building.
"Text me when you're done over there and we can go get some food," he calls after them. "But don't take forever because we need to be back before nine. The froshies might need us."
The girls wave in acknowledgement and key into their wing. Now it's just me and him.
"Oh, sorry," he says, offering out his hand. "I'm Calvin Wood. I'm your RA."
I shake his hand and get a better look of him now that we're in the lights of the lobby.
Calvin is a bit thinner than I first took him as, and I'm even more sure that he's a runner now. He has lean features, from his face all the way down into his arms, torso, and legs. His face is deeply tanned, as are his arms, accentuated even more by the mess of short blonde curls on top of his head.
He's a good looking guy, if not a little bit goofy. But he has a good, positive energy that shines when he smiles, and most of all when I catch his eye. I wasn't wrong about him being friendly. It almost radiates from him, like a camp counselor.
"Jake Spitzer," he says, as though tasting the words on his tongue and finding them to his liking, "You're from Westmont, right?"
"Yeah," I respond. "How did you know?"
"I know everything about you," he says as he opens the door onto our floor and lets me pass by. "My network of spies are very effective, even once you get a few hours out from the college."
He must see the confused look on my face, because he quickly corrects himself.
"I'm joking. They give me all your little bios before that first day so I can learn more about you." He raises his eyebrows. "And I was very keen to learn more about you in particular."
We've reached my door and he has not made any move to open it.
"Why?" I ask.
He holds my gaze as seriously as he can for a second, but then laughs.
"Because you're a runner."
I must have been right about him.
"Are you going out for any of the teams while you're here?" he asks.
I've been trying to pretend that I'm not, but I do keep thinking about it. A school this small isn't going to be crazy competitive in cross country, but it's still a college. I would be running against some very serious competition.
"Maybe," I admit.
"You should totally do it," he says. "We aren't that intense."
He bites his lip and thinks better of his statement.
"Assuming you really like to run a lot, I guess. But for a bunch of runners, we're pretty low key."
I smile, and realize it's the first time I've done so the whole time we've been talking. Maybe these upperclassmen aren't as scary or intimidating as I thought. At least, maybe Calvin isn't. Those girls on the other hand might be. That's a whole different animal.
"Alright, I'll let you go," Calvin says as he keys into my rooms and steps to the side to let me enter. "It's nice meeting you and I'll see you bright and early tomorrow morning."
I smile again and step past him.
"Thanks for the help."
The door closes behind me and I suddenly have the startling realization that I am not alone.
Sitting on the bed across from all my stuff, on the empty side of the room, is Joshua.
He's different than I thought, which is to say that he's black. I didn't pick up on that from his emails.
"Hey!" he says cheerfully, hopping off the bed and coming over to me. "You must be Jake, right?"
He holds out his hand and I grab it. His grip is firm, but somehow casual at the same time. Like it's confident, but not aggressive. I like it.
"Yeah," I reply, "and you're Joshua."
He wrinkles his wide nose at me and scowls.
"It's Josh," he says, "unless you want to remind me of my mom every time you talk to me."
"Sorry," I say.
He laughs and holds up his hands.
"No worries, man. Just make sure it doesn't happen again."
He turns back into the room and hops back onto his bed. He swings his feet as he looks me over, then smiles to himself.
"You coming in, or what?"
I realize I'm still standing in the entrance of the room, and I awkwardly rush over to my bed and sit on it, mirroring what Josh is doing on the other side. We sit in silence for a while and Josh looks at me curiously.
Why can't I think of anything to say? I try to will myself to just say anything. Ask him about his trip, about where he's from, ask when he got here. Anything would work, but I can't seem to force any words to exit my brain and pass through my mouth.
Luckily Josh breaks the silence. Unluckily however, it's by laughing at me.
"Not much of a talker?" he asks.
He laughs again, and I realize that he isn't laughing at me. He has a good laugh. It's real, and genuine, and it invites you to join in. His whole faces widens and lights up, and you can't help but smile.
"That's cool," he says. We have all year to get to know each other, so if you want to take it slow, that's all good."
I laugh a little at his joke and finally find something to say.
"Sorry, I guess I'm just nervous."
He dismisses me with a wave of his hand.
"You don't have to be nervous, man. While we're in this room, you just be yourself. Whatever you gotta do or say, you just say it."
I nod a take a deep breath. That almost sounds like more pressure, but I need to give it a shot. It's college. It's a new world. I don't have to be that shy kid in the corner any more, and it sounds like Josh might be the best person to help get me out of my mold a little.
"Cool," I say. "I'll do that." It doesn't sound confident, but I said the words and it's a start.
"Don't worry," he says, "I have five brothers. You can't really freak me out with anything."
"Five brothers?" I can't even imagine. I've been an only child for as long as I can remember.
"Yeah, it was always a trip growing up. Between them and their friends, I've seen it all."
He sticks out his lips and turns his head, deep in thought.
"Honestly, even if you ran out here naked and started doing calisthenics with your dong flopping around, you still wouldn't be showing me anything new."
My jaw drops and I look at him with wide eyes.
"Did that happen?"
He laughs again.
"Many times, my friend. Youngest of six. Whatever my brothers could do to piss me off, they made it happen. And there wasn't a whole lot I could do to stop them, so I just got used to their craziness."
I try to ignore the image of five more Joshes running into the room stark naked, but I'm not entirely successful.
"That's crazy," I say.
"You better believe it. What about you?"
"Me?" I ask.
"Yeah," he says, "you have any brothers or sisters? Any crazy war stories from growing up?"
"Not really," I admit. "I had a sister who was a lot older than me," I say, "but she..."
I hesitate, but only for a second. For the first time since we started talking, I start to feel comfortable. And while my sister isn't my favorite subject, I don't feel weird saying it. Something about Josh just makes him easy to talk to.
"She was a lot older than me, and she passed away when I was little."
Josh's smile vanishes for the first time since we started talking.
"Sorry."
I shrug. "I was only three when it happened, and she wasn't at home. The only thing I really remember was that my parents were sad for a long time."
That was it. Usually I avoid talking about it. But that's the whole thing. I've told Josh, and we won't need to talk about it again. It was... easy.
"That's tough for anybody." A faint trace of Josh's smile returns, and I feel the mood of the whole room improve. "Honestly, it's a miracle that all six of us survived each other. I bet my mom's thanking Jesus every day."
I laugh. But then another thought occurs to me.
"I don't um... I don't usually talk about that with people, so like-"
Josh holds up his hand to stop me.
"Of course man," he says, "I'm not here to go around telling people your story."
I nod at him in thanks.
"I don't really talk about it. I don't want people to think I'm like..."
I can't think of the word I want to use. Of course I don't want people to think I'm weird, but I almost feel like saying that is weird. It's just hard to be a quiet guy who keeps to himself, and then everyone finds out that your sister died when you were little. It's some strange equation that adds up to giving me a lot of anxiety around people. I've lived that in high school, and I promised myself that college would be different.
"I got you."
Josh is serious now, and he looks me dead in the eye.
"This is important to you," he continues, "and I respect that. You want to trust people."
It's strange to hear something said so simply that I struggle with so much. There's more to it than that of course, but the way Josh says it, more than the words even, tell me that he gets it.
"Yeah."
Josh stands up and take a step toward me. He holds out his hand.
"Let's make this roommate thing real," he says. "Anything we say or do in this room" - he holds up his other hand and looks around, almost like he's binding himself to our dorm room with an oath - "is just between you and me."
It's dramatic, but I like it. I stand up and hold out my hand to him in return.
Our hands clasp together and we shake once, perfectly, in unison.
"Jake," he says, "I think this roommate thing is going to work out."
In the next chapter: A (not so) friendly face from the past. A fresh face of the future? And pizza...