Don’t Touch the Hat

My new roommate caught me with my hands down the back of my jeans.

In my defense, the door had been locked thirty seconds earlier, and the tail currently trying to strangle my thigh had required immediate attention.

He stopped in the doorway, a cardboard drink carrier balanced on one palm.

“Should I come back?”

“No.” I yanked my oversized sweatshirt down. “I was fixing something.”

“Good to know the place has maintenance.”

He was tall, dark-haired, and offensively comfortable in his own skin. His shirt had a faded astronaut on it. There was a tiny silver hoop in one ear and a smile on his face that suggested my dignity had already been entered into evidence.

“Micah,” he said.

“Loui.”

“As in Louis?”

“As in Loui.”

“Okay, Loui-as-in-Loui. Coffee?”

He held out a cup. I took it before remembering I had intended to be cautious around him.

“What if I hated coffee?”

“Then we’d discover our first serious incompatibility.”

I laughed. It was a small, unfortunate mistake. He noticed.

Outside our window, families hauled boxes across the Briarwood University courtyard. Somewhere down the hall, somebody was already testing how much bass a concrete building could survive. My best friend, Miyu, had left ten minutes earlier with instructions to breathe normally and stop checking my reflection.

I had followed neither instruction.

Under my gray beanie, my ears had flattened so hard they ached.

Not my ordinary ears. Those were behaving perfectly well.

The other two.

“Which side?” Micah asked.

I pointed to the bare bed on the right.

“Excellent. I’ve already formed an emotional attachment to the left.”

His side contained black sheets, a telescope case, a stack of battered textbooks, and what looked like enough snacks to provision a minor expedition. He dropped his keys beside the snacks and looked at the single suitcase I had unpacked.

“That everything?”

“There’s another bag downstairs.”

“Let’s get it.”

“I can carry it.”

“I believe in you. I’m still coming.”

He was halfway out the door before I found an argument.

I followed him, pulling my sweatshirt lower.

I had spent three years saving for college and another six months trying to secure a single room. The housing office had apologized very nicely before assigning me a roommate anyway. My parents had offered to help me find somewhere off campus, but rent near Briarwood cost more than I earned working summers.

Besides, I wanted this. Classes. Friends. A life that didn’t require building every day around concealment.

Apparently, I also wanted an attractive problem carrying my duffel upstairs.

“Education?” Micah asked, reading the label on a textbook sticking out of it.

“Elementary education.”

“That explains why you already look disappointed in me.”

“I haven’t decided yet.”

“Give it an hour.”

By six, I had learned that he was twenty-two, an aerospace engineering student, and in possession of a mini fridge he described as his most stable relationship.

I was twenty-one, transferring in after two years at community college, and trying not to look interested in any of those facts.

We heated a frozen pizza in the floor kitchen and carried it back to our room. He put a show on his laptop, moved over on his bed, and patted the space beside him.

I took my desk chair.

He looked between us.

“Strong start.”

“I like back support.”

“You’re going to be a nightmare at parties.”

When he bit into his pizza, he closed his eyes and made a sound so heartfelt I nearly choked.

“Should I give you two some privacy?” I asked.

“This is love. Show some respect.”

A woman appeared at the open door. Dark curls, gold hoops, expression somewhere between affection and murder.

“You left your jacket in my room,” she told him.

“Amara. My hero.”

“I’m keeping the charger.”

“Cruel, but fair.”

She threw the jacket at his face, then looked at me.

“New roommate?”

“Loui,” I said.

“You seem sensible. Don’t let him borrow money.”

“I’m sitting right here,” Micah protested.

“Yes. It’s one of your problems.”

She stole a slice and left. Micah watched my face while I looked very carefully at the laptop.

“Anything you want to ask?”

“Does everyone steal your food?”

“Only people I care about.”

“That’s a terrible system.”

He slid the pizza box closer to me.

I took another slice.

Later, Miyu arrived to collect me for the welcome party downstairs. Her new roommate, Jyll, turned out to be Micah’s older sister, which Miyu announced as though the housing department had arranged a marriage.

“The universe has plans,” she whispered while Micah looked for his wallet.

“The universe can mind its business.”

Her eyes flicked to my beanie, then back to my face. “Are you okay?”

I nodded.

She was the only person outside my family who knew what I was. She had found out when we were thirteen and I fell asleep during a movie. Her first question had been whether the ears hurt under a hat.

I had loved her ever since.

Downstairs, music thudded through a crowded common room. Somebody had hung paper stars from the ceiling. I stayed near Miyu until she spotted Jyll, and then I found myself alone with a cup of soda and nowhere sensible to put my hands.

Micah appeared beside me.

“You look like you’re waiting for a dentist.”

“I enjoy standing.”

“Terrible hobby.”

He introduced me to Jamil, his best friend and Amara’s brother, and several people whose names dissolved immediately under the noise. Nobody stared at my hat. Nobody asked why I was wearing a sweatshirt in a crowded room.

Slowly, my shoulders dropped.

When Micah asked me to dance, I surprised myself by saying yes.

He didn’t make a production of it. One hand held mine; the other settled lightly at my waist. I could have stepped away. Instead, I moved closer.

“Better?” he asked near my ear.

“Your confidence is exhausting.”

“You’ve known me six hours.”

“Imagine my concern.”

He laughed, and something inside me loosened dangerously.

I knew he flirted easily. I had watched him do it with the woman handing out drinks and the guy adjusting the speakers. I knew a smile didn’t necessarily mean anything.

But then he stopped smiling.

His gaze moved to my mouth, came back to my eyes, and waited there.

I should have turned my head.

Instead, I caught the front of his shirt.

He leaned in slowly enough to give me time to change my mind. I didn’t. His mouth was warm, his hand steady at my waist, and for several impossible seconds, being wanted felt uncomplicated.

I kissed him back.

He made a surprised sound that pleased me far more than it should have. We moved toward the quieter edge of the room. My back touched the wall, his thumb brushed my cheek, and I forgot the music.

Then his fingers caught the edge of my beanie.

He was only trying to touch my hair.

My ears jerked beneath the knit.

Panic went through me so fast I shoved him hard enough to knock his shoulder against the wall.

“Don’t touch that.”

His hand dropped.

“Loui?”

I clamped both palms over my hat. A couple nearby looked toward us.

The room seemed suddenly bright, every face turned my way even though I knew most of them weren’t looking.

“I have to go.”

“Hey. Did I hurt you?”

“No.”

I couldn’t explain that he had done almost everything right.

That was the problem.

I left before he could ask again.