CHARLOTTE
The sound of a key in the door breaks the standoff. Once again, I’m sprawled on the kitchen floor, one hand full of warm, shredded chicken that I hold out to Duke, when my new roommate Roxanne Santos walks in.
“You’re going to spoil that dog.”
I must look ridiculous, but Duke is worth the inconvenience. “He needs a little convincing sometimes. I won’t do this forever.” It’s only been a week. He’s still super freaked out around people, but at least he’s eating.
Tentatively, he licks my fingers, and I babytalk to him. “You’re a good boy. Yes, you are.”
My roommate snorts, but she’s smiling.
Roxy is a junior. She has thick, dark brown hair and a criminally dirty mind. She’s the opposite of me in all the best ways. In other words, like my sister minus the attitude and self-importance.
Getting distance from Dakota was the best thing I could do. I see now how I let her boss me around. I worked my ass off for her and never even got a thank you. I think I let myself be manipulated out of guilt because I had feelings for Jake.
I refuse to be a pushover anymore.
This is the year I take charge.
I direct this ship. I’m queen of my castle.
“Are you sure I can’t talk you into coming to the Baylor game this weekend? I can get you great tickets.” Roxy is the daughter of the football coach, Richard Santos. She’s also a cheerleader, a really good one who gets flipped into the air and does death-defying moves every day.
I would never say this to her because I’d hate to hurt her feelings, but she wasn’t my first choice of roommates. But the friends I made at Lone Star State were all seniors who graduated last May, and I was starting to panic because I can’t afford this place solo even though it’s located in one of the shadier areas in town. I met Rox when I was hanging out with my friend Maggie, who just moved to Chicago with her boyfriend Olly and their twins.
But Roxy is fun and outgoing, and I definitely need someone to push me out of my comfort zone. She makes me laugh, and I could use more laughter in my life. Like me, she’s a transfer to Lone Star, and I get the feeling she could use a friend. Plus, she was cool with me having a one-eyed demon cat and now a freaked-out Aussie.
“We had a deal, Miss Santos. You don’t talk about football, and I won’t nag you to get up when your alarm goes off in the morning.”
She snickers. “The right to snooze should be in the Constitution.”
“But if you don’t keep up your grades, your father is going to move you back into the pool house, and that’s no fun.” I hate being the voice of reason, but I want her to do well.
“Ugh, don’t remind me. Dad can be such a hardass.”
Roxy partied a little too much last year, and her parents put her on lockdown for a while. I’m surprised she isn’t living somewhere swankier, though. Our neighborhood is full of crazy college kids, and some of the buildings around here are run-down. But it’s affordable and not too far from campus.
Duke finally starts nibbling his dinner, and I slowly back out of the way. If I get up too quickly, he gets scared, and I’ll have to start all over again.
Once he’s done eating, Roxy gets down on her knees and holds out her hand to Duke, who takes a quick sniff of her hand before he licks it. He even lets her scruff his fur, but then he gets skittish and backs away. “It’s okay, Duke. I’m not gonna hurt you.”
“He’s learning to trust again. It takes time.”
“Meow-eow!” Winkie rubs against Roxy’s leg, but runs off before she can pet him.
“Your cat has the funniest meow.” She laughs and tries to lure him out from behind the couch, but pauses when she spots my eight-by-ten black-and-white prints on the coffee table. “Holy shit. Are these yours?”
“Yeah. I’m obsessed with the darkroom.” Something I discovered when I transferred here.
Using film is so much more rewarding than taking digital shots. Don’t get me wrong, digital offers immediate gratification. Plus, you can see right away whether you have the photo or not. That’s obviously important.
But old-school film photography has its own allure. It demands attention to detail. Is the aperture correct or will the shot be blurry because it’s not well lit? Am I using the right film speed or will it be too grainy? Will I find the perfect way to crop the image under the enlarger or will the composition be boring? The whites in your final print should be crisp with detail, as should the blacks, which is not easy to do on the same image.
I love the challenge of getting everything just right. In the darkroom, I call the shots, and that’s a new feeling for me.
The animals at the shelter are the perfect subject for black-and-white photos, since the flyers won’t be in color. And my secondhand Nikon FM2 takes beautiful pics. “I’m going to give the prints to the families who adopt them.”
“That’s a great idea. You’re so sweet.”
“Thanks. I love these little guys.”
“I can tell. It comes through in your images.”
“Hey, do you smell that?” I sniff the air. Is something burning?
“It’s just the potpourri crock pot downstairs. Those girls never turn it off.” She keeps flipping through my pics. “So are you a photo major?”
“A photojournalism major, yes.” I could’ve chosen the art degree route to study photography, but I love capturing people in their natural surroundings, which is the opposite of every contrived pic my sister ever had me take for her.
Maybe now is a good time to ask Roxy for that favor. “Any chance you’d like to be in a calendar I’m putting together for the shelter? I’m supposed to get ‘hot’ athletes—my boss’s description, not mine—to take pics with the animals so we can raise money.” I explain how Second Chances is in trouble and might not be able to stay open next year.
By the time I’m done, Roxy’s eyes are wide. “Of course I’ll help! Are you sure you don’t want to just use male athletes, though? A shirtless football player might sell better.”
Unbidden, the image flickers in my mind.
Jake.
Shirtless.
Wet.
And very, very hard.
Everywhere.
I blink and shake my head to clear my wayward thoughts. Unfortunately, it’s not easy to purge the image of Jake emerging naked from his shower, no matter how much time has gone by.
“They don’t need to be shirtless. I need athletes, and you work your ass off for several hours at every practice and game, not to mention those workouts I see you post online. Plus, you’re beautiful. I think you more than qualify.”
“I am kinda cute.” She buffs her nails on her shirt.
We laugh and make plans to do the shoot. “I could use your help finding some other athletes, though.” I hold my hand out. “They can’t all be football players.” Preferably none, but if I say that, she might get suspicious. She just thinks I’m not into sports. It’s hard to bare my soul about what happened at North Texas U.
“I got you, girl. I know everyone, and there are some fine-looking men on the team this year. I might even be tempted to break my own rule about not dating one.”