Nathan gives me an I-know-why-you-said-that look. I just shake my head and mouth, “Don’t.” Jay, being Jay, stays oblivious to what’s going on right in front of him regarding me. Or at least I think he’s oblivious. Sometimes I think Jay notices everything and just pretends to notice nothing. Instead of warning Nathan to back off or saying any other typical confrontational macho doublespeak, Jay unlocks his dorm room—now Nathan’s dorm too—and pushes the door open.
“Just so you know, Vale, this roomie thing was not my idea,” he says. “You can thank Meredith’s dad for that. My dad made sure I made it three and a half years here without a roommate. Then spring semester of my senior year, Mer’s dad sticks you in here with me. Don’t expect me to be happy about it.”
Jay never talks about his dad or why he’s perfectly happy to live on campus when his parents are less than ten minutes away. I’ve managed to put the puzzle pieces together over the years about what he only calls a “darkness” at home, but I don’t ask for details. I only hope Jay knows I’ll listen when—or if—he’s ready to talk.
I shake the bad feeling away that I have about Jay’s dad before I follow the boys into the room. Nathan looks around. Jay’s built a shrine to himself with ski trophies, ribbons, and framed newspaper articles that decorate every available space. I’ve been in here what feels like a million times, but it always catches me a little off guard. I can only imagine how Nathan feels. Boom. In case you didn’t feel inferior already, you’re in the presence of a local sports legend.
“So, you’re the same Jay Jameson who’s all over the news?” Nathan asks. “The one who turned down going pro to finish up your senior year?”
“The one and only.” Jay chucks Nathan’s plastic hospital bag of stuff on the spare bed before he kicks off his shoes and sits down in the chair next to his computer desk. He’s used to being a local celebrity and golden boy. Being recognized isn’t anything new to him.
“If you’re as serious about skiing as the papers and TV reports say, I’d have thought you’d jump at the chance to go pro,” Nathan says. “Why’d you stick around?”
“I wanted to spend more time with Mer.” Jay winks at me. I’m not sure if he’s showing off in front of Nathan or if that wink is some guy code I fail at reading, but I do my best to ignore it. I do my best to ignore a lot of things around campus. Life is easier that way when you don’t go looking for trouble or, with Nathan’s dreams and my déjà vu moments, looking for answers.
“If you ask me, turning down going pro sounds like something you can hold over Meredith,” Nathan says. “By giving up something so big for her, she owes you. I mean, even if you haven’t said it yet, I bet you think it all the time. I bet you think, ‘I gave up going pro for you.’”
Jay purses his lips, which is never a good sign—it means he’s holding in his temper. He may be laid-back and oblivious most of the time, but when he’s upset, his words cut sharper than a knife. “I’m not asking you, so back off.”
Nathan holds up his hands in surrender but still continues to push Jay’s buttons. What was Dad thinking by putting these two together in one tiny dorm room? “Meredith doesn’t owe you anything just because you won trophies and she calls herself your girlfriend,” Nathan says. “Why don’t you back off.”
“Drop it, both of you, please,” I jump in before harsh words can turn to more. “I’m standing right here, okay? Don’t act like I’m not. You two have to live together, remember? Just drop it and attempt to be civil, please.”
“I’m cool. It’s your boy Vale you need to be giving the pep talk to.” Jay stands and heads into the bathroom. He shuts the door behind him, and we hear the shower start up a couple seconds later. Even though Jay showered after practice, he has a habit of getting a second one in later the same day. It’s a superstitious thing. I don’t remember when it started, but he says if he showers twice a day during ski season, he wins more meets.
“Well, your boyfriend is very confident or idiotic to leave the two of us alone together.” Nathan smiles, showing he’s joking.
I relax and even laugh. “Jay’s all talk. Trust me. He’s on a scholarship too. He wouldn’t risk all that this close to graduation and going pro. He’s got his reputation to uphold.”
“Is that why you date the boy wonder of the ski team?” Nathan asks. “Reputation?”
“So, we’re back to this?” I bite my bottom lip. “Jay helped me through a really tough time two years ago. Why I date Jay now is none of your business, Nathan.”
“It is if you’re with him because it’s what people expect instead of what you want. Being a pawn—anyone’s pawn, Meredith—is not for you. No one deserves to be put in a little box and kept as a prize.”
“Is that what you think is happening to me?”
“That’s what I know is happening to you.”
Nathan takes a step toward me as I take a step back. It’s like a delicate dance—one step forward, one step back until I’m pressed up against the door with Nathan standing toe to toe with me. I gaze into his eyes. Why didn’t I ever notice they were as blue as a mountain lake on a clear day before? I fumble for the doorknob, holding onto the cool metal as if it is an anchor keeping me from doing something I’ll regret.
“You’re not just something pretty for the boy wonder to trot out and show off,” Nathan whispers. “As I see it, the problem is you’ve backed yourself into a corner, you’ve fallen into that little box, and you don’t know how to get out. You want to get out, don’t you, Meredith? I can help you get out.”
“I don’t know.” I push on the door to escape his words, his eyes; to escape everything about him that is pulling me in when I should push away. “It doesn’t matter what I want.”
Nathan follows me out into the empty hallway. “Of course it matters. It matters because you matter. You have a mind—a superb one from what I can tell in the short time I’ve known you—so you don’t have to go along with what everyone expects of you. This isn’t the 1800s. You’re an independent person with independent goals. Don’t be something or someone you’re not just to please a handful of people who, when given the choice between you and their career, I’m sure they would pick their career.”
I hear the shower water stop. Jay will be out any minute. Time is running out before I need to switch from independent-Meredith to trophy-girlfriend-Meredith. “We all make choices. Don’t pick apart mine, Nate.”
“Nathan,” he corrects.
I blink as if waking from a dream. “What was that?”
“Nathan,” he repeats. “My name is Nathan. You called me Nate. Again.”
Before I have time to answer— or better yet, deny—the name slip-up, Jay emerges from the bathroom. He sticks his head out into the hallway when he can’t find us inside.
“What are you doing out there?” he asks.
“Just, uh, talking.” Judging by Jay’s pursed lips, he believes me about as much as I believe myself, which is not at all.