The Failing Hours

And guys.

Winnie face is so buried in her phone it’s actually glowing, the reflection from the small screen casting a blue pallor on her skin. “Yeesh. I don’t know if I should read this out loud.”

It’s on the tip of my tongue to say I don’t want her to, but curiosity wins out. I move near her on the bed, present her with my back so she can slide the zipper down the back of my dress.

The same dress I’ve worn to every special occasion in the past year, and thank god it still fits.

I remain quiet so Winnie will start reading the posts out loud.

“Someone wrote: Zeke Daniels is a sexist pig.”

Yeah, I could see that.

Winnie goes on. “Zeke Daniels’ number one talent, besides wrestling, is to hit it and quit it.” She glances up. “Yikes.”

“Zeke Daniels had sex with me at a party in the bathroom and didn’t bother to wait for me to pull my pants up before walking out the door…Zeke Daniels is a fucking prick.” She looks up after that one. “Is that true?”

I shrug. No sense in denying it. “He’s a little rough around the edges.”

Her brow goes up, face back in her phone. “Zeke Daniels deserves a medal for biggest asshole on campus…there is nothing nice about this guy…Zeke Daniels is everything your mother warned you about, and then some…don’t bother ladies, he’s not interested in commitment…can someone say issues…”

I cut her off before she can finish that last one. “Winnie, s-stop. Th-Th-that’s e-enough.”

She lowers the phone to her lap, looking abashed. “Shit. Sorry, Vi.” Loud sigh. “What do you know about this guy? Is he safe?” Her bottom teeth nibble her top lip. “I mean, is this the kind of guy you’ve been hanging out with?”

“I-I wouldn’t say we’ve been hanging out.”

Not really.

“What would you call it then?” she wants to know.

“Studying mostly. Volunteering together.” I begin ticking off all the things we’ve been doing the past few weeks. “Play dates. Homework. Tonight’s fundraiser.”

“Holy crap, Violet! Are you dating him? This guy is ridiculously good-looking.”

My dress falls to the floor and I bend to scoop it up, not caring that she’s seeing me in my strapless bra and underwear. She’s seen me without clothes on a million times before; we’ve been roommates since her parents let her move out of the dorms sophomore year.

“Look at me Win.” I raise my pale, sunless arms, running my palms along my narrow hips and stomach. “Do I look like the type of girl he would want to date? Do I s-sound like his t-type?” Pfft. “G-get real.”

She straightens, sitting up. “What is that supposed to mean? Have you looked in the mirror lately? You’re beautiful. If he isn’t interested, then he’s a freaking idiot—not that I’m telling you to date him, but if you wanted to, you could…not that I want you to.”

“Good, because I’m not.”

“I’m just saying you’re freaking incredible.”

“No, you’re just saying that because you’re family.”

The family I created for myself when I got to school: Winnie, Melinda, and our friend Rory, who still lives in the dorms.

Winnie leans back, propping herself up by the elbows. Rolls her eyes toward the ceiling. “I just know how you are, okay? You’re so…what’s the word I’m looking for? Compassionate. Not everyone has a broken wing that needs mending, Violet. Maybe this guy isn’t worthy of your special brand of caring.”

But she’s wrong.

He is.

She goes on. “I mean, he sounds like a total asshole. Please consider that before you sleep with this guy.”

I slip out of my bra and replace it with a ratty old t-shirt, Winnie’s deafening silence filling the room. Her eyebrows speak a thousand words.

I turn away.

“I hope next time you put the moves on him you know what you’re getting yourself into. I don’t mean to be a creeper, but dude, I was checking to see who was in the driveway when you guys pulled up. Totally was not expecting that giant truck to be parked there, and then the cab light went on, and I could see that it was you, and, well, I couldn’t look away.”

She rambles on. “I know it was you who kissed him first—he wasn’t going to make a move on you. If you could have seen his face from where I saw it—you kissed the stuffing out of him, Violet. He was in complete and utter shock.” She laughs, tipping her head back. Her shocking black hair hits my purple bedspread. “I about died. Died! Swear to God, if Melinda had been home…” Her head gives a shake.

I pad barefooted to my dresser and pull out a pair of yoga pants, stepping into them one leg at a time. “I assure you, I am in no danger of falling into anything with Zeke Daniels without thinking it through.”

“I think you’ve missed my point, Violet,” my roommate says. “Maybe you’re in danger of…him falling into you. Because from where I stood, he didn’t look that terribly awful.”

I go to the closet and pull out a sweatshirt, slide it over my head. “He’s not.”

“Because everyone online makes him sound like a shitty human being.”

“He has his moments, trust me, but…mostly he has no filter. He’s coming around—he’s better with the kids.”