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I met Tyler in the Commons later that night. He wanted to give me the first bit of information he’d found for our paper. The TV was playing Friends reruns quietly, and he was sitting on the couch, hunched over his laptop.

“Hey,” I said quietly, leaning on the arm of the chair adjacent to the couch.

Tyler gently closed his laptop and set it on the couch next to him. He rifled through his open green backpack and handed me a few pages stapled together. I briefly flipped through them, noting highlighted sections and thorough notes in the margins.

Partnering with him was a good choice.

“You’re much better at this than I could ever be,” I said, earning a small smile from him. “You staying up here for a while?”

As usual, he sent me a text.

Tyler: Cameron’s girlfriend is spending the weekend. I’m sequestered up here until she goes home Sunday night.

Still not talking to me?

“Oh,” I wrinkled my nose. I’d be so upset if I had a roommate that basically kicked me out of my room for an entire weekend. “Does this happen often?”

He shrugged.

“I’m taking that as a yes.”

He shrugged again.

I rolled my eyes. “I have a single and a futon. Let me know if you ever want to crash there.”

It was his turn to wrinkle his nose.

“I know, I know. We barely know each other. Take it or leave it, but it’s always available. Room 364.” I began walking backward down the hall before turning around. “Just let me know if you change your mind.”

Then, I headed up to my room.

This looks really good, I thought, admiring the new setup of my room. Dad and I had assembled the futon along the wall opposite my lofted bed. We put my TV on the TV stand under my bed, and moved my desk to the foot of the futon. The mini fridge sat against the back wall and fit perfectly against the futon when it was folded down.

I nodded. This is wonderful.