Page 32 of Vera Stein Is Fine
“I should just go home,” Vera said. “If I knock loud enough, Tess will hear me and let me in. I can’t believe I forgot my dorm keycard.”
“It’s not like this little skanky witch look you’ve got going on left a lot of room for storage.”
“Did you just call me a skanky witch?” Vera asked as she swatted at Brody—from what I could hear.
“Fucking hell,” he said. “That stung. And I’m sorry. I meant to say a hot skanky witch. Better?”
She sighed. “Marginally.”
“Anyway, just stay here.”
My spine stiffened. I could barely sleep as it was. After she’d left earlier that night my whole fucking room smelled like her and that cheap cucumber melon body spray she always wore. Sometimes I’d fake a sneeze and say that I had a sudden headache just hoping that she would get the hint and stop wearing it. I’d ask if anyone smelled the too-sweet aroma. And Vera’s cheeks would turn a deep shade of pink, which usually led to a boner on my part.
Vera had become an installment in Brody’s life, which was inconvenient, because he lived in my room. After the Halloween party, he’d started inviting her everywhere with us unless he was explicitly told not to. Mostly by me. Like when we met my parents for brunch on my birthday or when we went out for drinks last week and I just needed a break from her laughing at Brody’s every word like he was the funniest motherfucker of all time. It was as infuriating as when she’d pick fights with other Sigma Chi brothers about the toxicity of Greek life. All while she wore the most sexless vintage T-shirts that still found a way to cling to her tits. Or how the tips of her ears turned red when she started talking too fast about whatever movie she’d last seen—good or bad, she always had an opinion.
“I gotta take a piss,” Brody told her as our door creaked open, “but there are some clean T-shirts on my desk and a couple of gym shorts hanging over the closet door.”
Vera sighed as the door shut, and it was suddenly too quiet.
I held my breath as she kicked off her boots and shuffled over to the far side of the room where our desks were.
She mumbled to herself as she flipped through shirts, and then a soft “This will have to do” came out as a sigh.
Clothing rustled as I clutched my fists in front of my chest like for a desperate prayer. She was undressing. In my room. Right behind me.
All I had to do was peer over my shoulder to catch a glimpse, but the only thing worse than her undressing behind me was getting caught as I watched.
The mattress on the other side of the room shifted as she sat down.
“Why are you still wearing that skirt?” Brody asked as the door creaked open, putting an end to any possibility of me catching a glimpse of Vera.
“Your boxer shorts weren’t made for my wide birthing hips. You have zero ass.”
I swallowed back a laugh, but Brody remained silent for a moment until he finally said, “Then don’t wear pants. I don’t care. Eli is asleep and he’ll be gone before we’re even up. It’s not like I haven’t seen you in a swimsuit, V. And by the way, my ass is very juicy.”
“Maybe once I’m under the covers, but wearing a skirt is basically the same as not wearing pants anyway. Do you have an extra pillow and blanket I could use down here?”
“Shut up. You’re sleeping in the bed with me.” The springs of his double mattress wheezed as he threw himself into bed. A T-shirt flew overhead and landed on the edge of my bed. Brody snorted. If he were actually trying to be a gentleman, he would have just gone down to sleep on the couch and let her have the bed. Not that the half-mast boner under my blankets knew anything about being a gentleman.
She scoffed. “The floor is fine.”
“Don’t be silly, Vera. We’re mature adults. No one’s going to get in trouble for sleeping in the same bed. The worst that could happen is that I drool on you or accidentally fart in my sleep.”
She sighed. “Okay, but I’m sleeping on top of the blanket with that quilt your mom sent you.”
“Be my guest,” he said. “You know it’s made out of—”
“All the T-shirts from every sports team you were on since T-ball. Yes, I do remember that specific footnote in the history of Brody.”
“One day, when I’m famous, I’ll let you write my licensed autobiography. You’ll be the Brody Turner expert.”
“I’m glad you have such big dreams for me,” she said as the blankets rustled. “I’m taking off this skirt, but please be warned that my ass is not a hand warmer.”
“That was one time!” he said. “And it was my feet.Andit worked. My toes were very toasty under that ass of yours. It’s a ten-out-of-ten ass.”
Vera was quiet for a minute until she finally said, “Good night, Brody.”
His bedside lamp switched off and I stayed awake listening to the rise and fall of their out-of-sync breaths until they grew longer and shallower.
