Kicking through the scattered clothes on the beige, carpeted floor, she stepped over an overturned backpack, forgotten, emptied beer cans, and flopped down on her bed. Even though the clock read three in the afternoon, the shades were half-drawn, casting a sleepy dimness about the reasonably sized room. Hands in her lap, she stared at the partially open laptop, the books that had probably never been opened, and the Nirvana posters on the wall. Running fingers through her jet black hair, she pondered the best way to break the news.

Groundbreaking news, heartbreaking news, gut-wrenching news.

Words she didn't want to use had to come.

The other guys, the brothers, had long since gotten used to her presence. Having been forcibly removed from her own home, an hour away from the college, they'd accepted her living in their residence pretty well. She rarely saw any of them anyway. Most of them partied at night; her roommate was no exception.

Roommate was an inaccurate title. She lived in his room; this was his room. When she'd first moved in, he'd given her his bed. He volunteered to sleep on the floor. The memory seemed like it had come ages ago; it was really just a month. The rightful occupant of the room said that he'd take any of his late-night friends to the spare room downstairs. That way, there'd be no awkwardness. She didn't understand his reasoning because apparently he was seeing some girl named Heather, a girl who despised her with every fiber of her being.

It was understandable. If she had a boyfriend, she wouldn't be too fond of some other, younger girl popping up out of nowhere and living in his room. She'd accidentally eavesdropped on one of Heather's phone calls with her friends. Heather had politely referred to her as some whore, a phrase that made her shrink and creep back to the bedroom in order to escape the unwarranted judgment. Heather hadn't even bothered to find out why she was living in the house. She hadn't tried to get to know her at all. Once she learned about their situation, the hate had its foundation. And there was no getting rid of it. Every time they were in a room together, something she tried to avoid, Heather glared venomously at her, no doubt thinking of insults and barbs.

"Cameron," she said his name softly, even though he wasn't in the room. There was no telling where he was actually, not like he went to class. His mom was unknowingly paying for him to party and get laid. Kith was accustomed to his absences at night.

She never knew his exact whereabouts, but she was one hundred percent certain that, wherever he was, there was beer. Cameron....she'd known him since elementary school. He was Austin's older brother by two years. She and Austin were both seventeen years old, almost adults, and set to graduate in June. It was their senior year, a year to be celebrated, their last stop in public education before being thrust into the world of jobs and college.

At the age of nineteen, Cameron was a sophomore in college. How was a mystery. The school started in late August; she'd come in early October, and hadn't seen him go to class once. His disappearances during the daytime were more disconcerting than the ones at night. At least at night she could assume that he was at a party. When the sun was up, if he wasn't in class...where the hell was he? She never really asked questions; his actions weren't really her business or her responsibility. He was an adult. Not a very good one, but an adult nonetheless. He was the epitome of the dark side of Greek life. Cameron was the over-stereotyped frat boy who partied hard, slept late, and studied never. But he was nice. He was the only one to offer her a place to stay when her parents banished her from their residence.

Moving her hands to the underside of her thighs, she wondered how everyone would look at her, what they would say about her, both here and at school. Her parent's reaction extended beyond all realms of negativity. Her Egyptian father considered her ruined and wanted nothing to do with her, even though she explained wholeheartedly that it wasn't her fault.

It wasn't her fault.

Tilting her head down, she stared bitterly towards the filthy floor. It was one downside of living with a guy. He didn't understand the basic necessity of cleanliness. For the small space she had, her things were neat, tidy, organized. His clothes were everywhere, and some smelled like they hadn't seen the interior of a washing machine in weeks.

His messiness, constant absence and drunken presence made their living arrangements less than favorable. It wasn't like living with a friend. She'd pushed her friends away with solid arms after the incident. No one would understand; her parents made that clear. No, Cameron wasn't a friend. He was the sibling of a former friend, and he'd always been nice to her. They were practically family, kind of like cousins who hadn't seen each other in years. They weren't into the same things, which explained why they didn't hang out or talk much. Where she enjoyed things like reading and perusing the internet, he liked loud music and downing shots. They weren't that compatible, but it had worked for the past few months. She couldn't despise someone who let her live in their room.

Plus, he had his moments. When he found her doing homework, he was decent enough to go fool around somewhere else. After a night of partying, he never failed to drunkenly strip out of his clothes and quietly collapse onto the floor. The day she'd moved in, he cleared out half of his college-sized closet for her. How their situation would continue once she told him would be anyone's guess.

It would just be a grander dose of independence. Leaving home meant that she now lived an hour away from her high school, an hour away from everything she'd ever known. She learned the bus schedule on her own; that was her transportation to and from school. Her parents had surprised her with a car for her sixteenth birthday, but that was as good as gone. Losing access to her house meant lost access to her car.

At Alpha Chi Epsilon, she cooked for herself, and sometimes for some of the brothers, she did her own laundry, she took care of herself. She was responsible for herself. At seventeen, she was more independent than half the kids she sat in class with. That she knew was willing to bet her left ear on.

Cameron showed up at nine o'clock wearing a white baseball cap over dark curls, a pair of red shorts, and a long-sleeved, pale blue shirt. The sky had darkened ages ago, and she'd just been lying on the bed, staring at the ceiling and contemplating the true direction of her future.

She told him.

And he just looked at her.

There will be two updates every week until this story is finished, Wednesday & Friday.