$7.55. Seven dollars and fifty-five cents was left in her account. Friday was payday, which meant she would get an additional $88.

She had been living on around ten bucks a day since she got here, eating granola bars for breakfast, salads for lunch, chicken rice bowls of sorts for dinner. It had been fine. Now she not only had to find a way to stretch seven dollars for five days, but to find a way to buy a book and cover shipping.

Cat rested her head in her hands to try and get herself to breathe. Class ended about half an hour ago and her stomach roared at her, but she popped off to the library to check her account balance online to see what she could afford to eat.

The answer was she couldn’t. Not really. Maybe if she went to the convenience store tomorrow when it opened, she could just buy a bunch of cheap things. Cup of Noodles or whatever. That would get her through the week. And maybe there was a used book that would be even cheaper than her paycheck.

But, as she searched on Amazon, biting her lips together and bouncing her leg up and down, the results jerked her stomach to and fro. There were some textbooks for $80...with ten dollar shipping. Why did shipping a book cost so much?

Now she sat there, exhausted and hungry at the computer, staring at this ridiculously expensive book that she couldn’t currently afford, but that she had to nearly starve herself to be able to by the end of the week, so long as it was still available.

As if to rub salt in the wound, her phone vibrated with a text from her mother that read, “How was your weekend, honey?” She wasn’t in the mood to lie to her mom.

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It wasn’t as if this was a new experience to Cat. There were several times at home where her Dad would come home with bad news, and then the next month or so consisted of every flavor of Top Ramen known to man until he finally announced that he found a new job. She nearly forgot those dreaded middle school days where Shawna Marshall mocked her for her lunch--which was just a tupperware preparation of stovetop Top Ramen, because it was thirty cents cheaper than the Cup of Noodles version. But the Student Convenience Store at Bay Area University didn’t have the cheaper bagged versions, so now she stood in line bright and early on Tuesday morning, right when the store opened, with five cups in her hand.

The cashier rung her up too quickly. And when she shakily handed over her debit card, the cashier asked, “Ever tried mixing up the flavors? I think the Shrimp and Chicken flavor packets aren’t so bad together. If you ever get sick of the flavors, that is.” Somehow, this one statement washed over her with a comfort like a warm blanket on a rainy day. Cat looked up to the pimply redhead and smiled.

“I’ll try that.” Of course. This was college. Every other person was in the same position she was. And even though she was an expert in the instant ramen flavor packets and their various mixtures, Chad from Super Convenience had improved her mood tenfold, and made the rest of the day that much more bearable--until dinnertime.

Hannah very enthusiastically invited Catherine out to dinner with the whole group, including “Caaaaam! Mwah-mwah!” But instead, Cat sat at her desk chair with her dinosaur-like laptop that hardly ran, and smiled weakly as she said, “I’ve got to study, but thank you. Maybe next time.” Maybe she could see Cam afterward. Maybe being exhausted and hungry and satisfied would get this feeling in her chest gone. But she wasn't going to figure that out while admitting she was literally broke to her brand new friends. Nope.

Cat waited for about twenty minutes after Hannah left before she dug out her Cup of Noodles and headed downstairs to the common area.

It was mostly deserted, as she had hoped, during dinnertime. There was just a couple of girls doing some flash cards in the corner, so she had time to take a wet paper towel to the microwave before she dared to use it.

The commons weren’t filthy. There were a few tables and chairs that weren’t completely stained to a darker color than they were supposed to be, and after a generous wipe-down before use, the microwave didn’t entirely smell like popcorn. She didn’t dare open the communal fridge, though. It wasn’t like a breakroom fridge at work that had a sign claiming everything would be tossed every Sunday night. Things just stayed there, for who knows how long.

Her hands were shaking by the time she got the cup into the microwave. And, just like the last time she had to survive off of the cheapest food available, she knew that it wouldn’t be enough to satiate her.

As Cat stood there, her arms crossed in front of the microwave, and watched the timer slowly climb down from three minutes, she tuned out the conversation of the studying girls, and tried very hard not to pay attention when the double doors to outside opened. But she didn’t grow up in a desert, so she wasn’t used to days being hotter than the surface of the sun and nights colder than space. The cold breeze from outside shocked her skin, and despite her efforts, she looked.

She wasn’t in the mood to be seen tonight. So when the two guys burst through the door with tank tops and gym shorts on, she tried her very best to disappear into herself, shrug her shoulders forward and slouch into nothingness. But she still stared. The first and tallest one to come in was wiping his face on a towel, though she had a sinking feeling she knew who the unfortunately pretty boy was. It was strange to recognize someone from his shoulders, from the little v-muscles his shirt revealed while his arms were up. The guy behind him clapped him on the back.

“I needed that. Thanks for the run. I’ll catch you later.” And just like that, Peter lifted the sweat towel from his face to show off his dimples to his departing friend, and Cat nearly jumped out of her skin to try and make it look like she wasn’t looking at them. She turned away with her heart in her throat, but she was caught.

“What are you doing here?” he asked, panting. She could practically hear his smile disappear. He had that disgusting wet u-neck people got when they exercised on purpose, and the sides of his tank top, under his arms, was stained with sweat. Any normal person would think this would be a horrible time to strike up a conversation. But no, he wasn’t normal. If he was normal, she wouldn’t feel so ashamed for staring at him.

“I live here,” she spat a little harsher than necessary as she eyed the digital numbers on the microwave. Why couldn’t he just leave? Also, did he forget that he was supposed to be avoiding her?

Instead, Peter approached, inviting himself into her personal space.

“I meant, why aren’t you at dinner with everyone else?” Why did he know about that? They only just left. Cat’s gaze snapped to his in surprise.

“How do you know…?” As she asked it, his brows rose.

“Because they invited me.” He shrugged as if it was such a simple answer. He stared at her with such confidence, green and bright and exhausted, but still standing a foot taller than her.

"Why?” Now she was out of breath. And if he was invited, why didn’t he go?

Peter glared, now, his arms entwining in front of his chest to mirror her. He looked so much stronger, so much more intimidating. While she was trying to disappear, he made it very clear he saw her and wasn’t going to let her get away without answering.

“Probably because we had fun the last time we went out.” When the hell was that? Was it that one time Hannah and Kelsey weren’t around when she and Cam went and grabbed food? They were hanging out with Peter? On purpose? “Why didn’t you go?”

Cat defaulted to looking away, to the microwave, and shook her head. Three, two, one…. “None of your damn business.” The minute it started beeping, she opened the door and took out her Cup of Noodles, and slammed the microwave door shut again. The cup was hot to the touch, and she nearly burned her fingers before she set it on the counter.

“None of my--god, you’re so….” Cat shot a glare at him as she stole a paper towel and a biodegradable fork from the cupboards, then despite how hot it was, how much it hurt her fingers to carry, she picked up the cup and twirled around to leave.

But he was on her heels.

“Stop following me,” she snapped when she got to the doorway. Peter let out a dry laugh.

“I live here,” he echoed with just as much sass. What a prick. Rolling her eyes, Cat shoved her shoulder into the push door and start her way down the hallway.

“Why are you choosing to eat that crap instead?” Mr. Judgy asked as she approached the elevator. She jabbed the button with her elbow to call for it, and even in all that stalling, she didn’t find a suitable enough lie.

“Shut up,” was all she was able to say. She didn’t want to eat it. It was just all that she could at the moment. It had the most carbs, the most calories out of everything the convenience store had. Unfortunately for them, the elevator was empty, and they were stuck with each other’s company for another minute as the stupidly slow contraption crawled its way up. If she wasn’t concerned about conserving her strength for having to run a mile later in the week, she would’ve taken the stairs.

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Cat leaned against the mirrored wall of the elevator, switching her Cup in her hands. Sure, it hurt to hold, but her pride was worth a lot more than a couple blisters. As she stared at one of the corners of the mirrored box, she could see Peter’s reflection without giving away the fact that she was staring at him at all. His arms weren’t crossed anymore, just resting in the pockets of his gym shorts. It was the first time she could see him really concentrate on something, his phone nowhere near enough to distract him.

Sweaty, focusing on the floor, lips tightened into a line. He looked just like a regular guy with his hair matted to his head, with too much to worry about and not enough time in the world. Maybe if he ever went mute, or just forgot how to speak, she could understand why her friends would want to be around him. But he had more muscles than personality and reserved his smile and his dimples for reasons she wasn’t meant to know, it seemed.

“Is the sodium from that death cup already clogging your arteries?” Peter asked with a disgusted look on his face. She blinked and turned to the real life Peter instead of his reflection, but before she could figure out what he was talking about, he leaned forward and pressed the button for the elevator doors to stay open before it could leave. “You look like you’re about to faint.” Somehow the elevator made it to her floor in the blink of an eye. And when she stepped forward from the wall, maybe he wasn’t wrong.

But he didn’t need to know that. Instead, she cleared her throat and stepped out of the elevator. Still, she had one question….

“Why didn’t you go to dinner, if you were invited?” She hesitated in the hallway, searching for his answer. He regarded her, his eyes lingering on her ramen, then shrugged and leaned forward to press the “door close” button.

“Moot point now, isn’t it?”

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Cat had a plan for avoiding her friends at dinnertime for the rest of the week without them noticing. Wednesday, she distracted Cam from dinner to just heading back to her place, feigning more desire than she actually held. But it worked, and Hannah was understanding and didn’t mind staying out a couple extra hours. Thursday, she hid in the library and claimed she lost track of time when writing an essay.

Friday morning, Cat sat at a library computer, refreshing the page of her bank account over and over again. She just had to wait for her auto-deposit to process, and she could buy the book, budget out her food….

Finally. And, in two extra clicks, she went from being only semi-poor, to completely broke again. But things were looking up. The resident advisors were throwing a movie night in the common area tonight, projector and free popcorn and all, and so with the extra four dollars--and skipping today, because she could substitute with popcorn--she had enough to get her through to Thursday, and then she would get her paycheck the next day.

This micro-planning left her exhausted. Or maybe because she was starving. But either way, mid-day naps didn’t help, neither did going to bed early. She originally planned on skipping out on the latter half of the movie night to go to bed so that she wouldn’t be exhausted at work the next day. But she sat next to Cam on the floor, as the newest superhero movie she didn’t care about blared about with explosions and bad villain puns, so when she said she was going to duck out, he got a mischievous glint in his eye and offered to walk her back to her dorm.

As usual, he was generous, rubbing and touching and kissing and licking in all the right places, repeatedly asking her what she wanted and then doing it enthusiastically. Physically, she was satisfied. For the briefest moment when he held her and nibbled on her neck, the oddest and ugliest feeling creeped into her stomach. Cameron was completely in the room with her, in the moment, absorbed in the heat and the pleasure, and even though she was very focused on what was going on right there, it was as if she watched the scene from above, disjointed.

He’d learned her buttons, the right way to get whatever reaction he wanted from her, but she took too long to respond. He built her up in every right way. Every stroke of his fingers, every movement and murmur stoked the fire he expertly lit. Despite her fragmented thoughts, she managed to climb up to the edge, and enjoy the leg-shaking ride he’d orchestrated just for her.

Again, she was left with less relief than she anticipated. Even though she knew this bubble in her chest was there to stay, now, she’d hoped it would go away. But this anticipation never left. And Cam was no idiot. After everything, he lay next to her, still dragging his fingers over her bare skin, still planting kisses on her neck and shoulder, though hesitant.

“Something wrong?” he finally asked when she wouldn’t. Cat let out a breath, giving the rise in her throat one last chance to leave her. But it didn’t. So instead, she returned one of Cam’s kisses with a smile and just said, “Exhausted, no thanks to you.”

He smiled, but his eyes searched hers for a genuine answer. She wasn’t willing to give it.

“I do have work in the morning, though….” Should she have felt bad, kicking him out? But the movie would be done soon, and Hannah would return--

“No rest for the wicked,” he said through a sigh before he gathered his things to leave. In that moment, while he pulled on his pants and gave an additional cheesy one-liner for his departure, Cat made a decision. It would have to wait until tomorrow, though.

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At this point, she couldn’t tell what affected her more: the nerves or the week-long diet of a Cup of Noodles a day. But this needed to be done, before she stuck her head further into the sand and refused to act like an adult. So now she stood in the slightly-more crowded dorm rooms of the upperclassmen, in front of Cameron’s dorm room, and knocked.

Honestly, up until this moment, she was so absorbed in her worries about Cam, she genuinely forgot Peter was his roommate, and was utterly confused as to why he opened the door.

“Um...Cam?” was all she could remember to say when he furrowed his brows at her. Then, it seemed like Peter suddenly remembered Cam lived there, and just shoved the door open more to reveal his roommate laying on his bed--or rather--in bed, waving.

“Hey, Cat!” He punctuated his greeting with a yawn. “Sorry, were we supposed to meet? I overslept.” She stared at him under Peter’s arm, wide-eyed.

“It’s four PM, Cameron.” Even if he could sleep through the rukkus of the hallway, how could he sleep that late?

“So--we did have plans?” Cameron started to stir, to sit up in bed, and Peter abandoned the door to return to his desk, and placed headphones over his ears. He sat with a laptop open to some sort of research page, with a music player showing waveforms in the corner of his screen. Cat sighed.

“No, I just--wanted to talk with you.” Another group of people passed by, shouting despite walking right next to each other. Cat flinched, then regarded Cam. “Maybe somewhere quieter?”

“Yeah, sure, come on in.” Cameron crawled out of his bed completely to smooth out the comforter, wearing boxer shorts and the undershirt he had on yesterday. Cat’s eyes flickered to Peter. He seemed laser-focused on something, and was clicking away at his screen.

“Maybe somewhere more private,” Cat suggested without looking away from Peter’s screen.

“He’s got headphones on, it’s cool. Come sit.” Well...the hallway wasn’t going to be any better. So with a sigh, Cat relinquished her reservations and started toward Cam’s bed to plop onto it.

She’d never actually been inside before. She didn’t think Cam would be the neat one, between him and Stick-Up-His-Ass Magoo, but his desk was neatly laid out, his books on the shelf above his bed, and all of his clothes in the hamper. Peter’s bed was covered in papers and books, an open backpack, and his desk was a catastrophe. What sort of backwards universe….

“So,” Cam started to steal her attention. She was still exploring the visuals of the room, the abundance of posters and pictures on Cam’s side, neat and straight, and the collage of smaller photos and stickers on a sort of picture board hanging over Peter’s desk. She couldn’t make out anything distinct. But what she did notice was the little pop-up of a speaker with a slash through it on Peter’s computer. Nosy bastard just muted his music to eavesdrop. Just as she was about to say something, Cam jumped up to sit on his bed beside her and asked, “are you here to tell me I have an STI?” Any lectures she started to prepare for Peter flew out of her brain as she stared at Cam.

“What? No, I--do you have an STI?” Oh, god. She should have known. Condoms didn’t always block everything--and they weren’t as effective as combined measures--

“Not that I know of, that’s why I’m asking you. Do you?” Cam said as he shook his head. Cat stared at him incredulously.

“I--then why--did you just assume I came here to tell you that you have an STI?” That was alarming. Okay, next paycheck, she was going to the Health Center and getting tested. Jesus Christ, what had she been doing?

“It’s either that or you came here to, like, ‘break up’ with me, which would be weird, because we’re not dating, because you know that I don’t do that sort of thing….” If he thought that would grant him a different expression, he was wrong, and Cat shook her head.

“What the hell, Cam?” was all she could say. He shrugged at her. Over Cam’s shoulder, she could see Peter resting his chin on his open palm, likely covering whatever sort of laughter he was undoubtedly struggling to hold back. Cat sighed. “I was just--not breaking up, or whatever, but just saying I’m going to focus more on other things.” She had the perfect phrase picked out when she got here, but being blindsided by Cam’s candor, his accurate prediction. What were words, again? “I was using you as an excuse to not do what I need to, and to try and….” She couldn’t find anything to say, so she just mirrored him, and shrugged.

Cam listened respectfully, nodding. “I get it. I mean, college is new for you. You’re dealing with a lot, and I can be a pretty great escape.” She nodded, but he deserved the whole truth. And he was being a hell of a lot more receptive than any other guy she’d been with, so maybe this would grant full closure.

“I guess I’ve been looking for something that I thought….” Cat picked at her nails, watching them carefully in her lap. “I have this--this feeling or something--that I felt…. I don’t know how to explain it. I just--there’s something I felt that I thought I could get back, and I thought I could do that by using...well, you. But I can’t, so now I feel kind of guilty, so….” She shrugged again to acknowledge the nagging guilt that played at the edge of her stomach.

“Well…,” Cam sounded through a sigh, “thanks for not using me on purpose. Though if you wanted to keep using me with full disclosure….” Cat laughed, then shook her head. “That tracks. Alright, no big.”

“Thanks for being cool about it,” she said, eyeing Peter’s computer.

“Yanno.” When Cam yawned, Cat stifled her own, and slid off his bed to leave.

“I’ll see you later, then?”

“Sounds good.”

Peter’s hand was on his mouse, clicking from one tab to another, still pretending to listen to music. But when she passed by him, she hesitated, debating, and then paused to wait for him to turn around and look at her.

Then, in the most condescending voice possible, she said, “You can hear the music when your speakers are actually on.” She reached over his shoulder to press the button on his keyboard to turn on the volume; he jumped at the sudden noise and swiped his headset off, proving his guilt with more than just a frown.

Satisfied, she granted a wave to a laughing Cameron, and let herself out.