I'd failed Biology. That was really how it all started. Was that I'd failed, utterly failed. And so, thanks to mildly draconian University procedures, I had to make it up at their campus. And a 3-½ hour commute for a two-hour class? Is hell. So, I had to find a place to live. As luck would have it, I had not-quite friend not-quite acquaintance in the area-Loren. We'd met, of course, at the University's gay-straight alliance club and sorta hit it off [translation: I had a pretty decent sized crush on her. And her? Well I'm not sure she remembered I existed half the time]. It was sometime in March when I asked her, palms sweaty for reasons which I cannot to this day fathom and it wasn't the heat-March here means winter-I mean, I wasn't asking her out on a date I was just asking to…move in for a few weeks. Which, if you asked my roommates, was a Sisyphean task. But what do they care? They weren't gonna be here in the summer.

I was.

God damn it.