You met him when you were both volunteering on the Harvard campus. The Dean of Student Affairs left in a hurry after being paged. You clutched your little binder to your front nervously.
It had been a while since you were back at Harvard, but while the campus was still familiar, it was a whole new perspective to not be one of the students. You ground your teeth and held your binder tighter. So did I. He chuckled. You started to hold up your binder in example. Tentatively, you smiled.
Video game wars. Stop that! Despite taking his eyes off of the TV, he was still draining your HP while you tried to fight to win. His sofa was small enough that you could justify having your legs and arms brushing when you were folded crisscross on the cushions, leaning forward as if physical proximity to the television would help you to win. A phone started to go off, vibrating loudly and rattling on the table.
You could be needed. He scoffed. The phone continued to vibrate. A strike came from behind, catching you off-guard and unarmed.
You swore. Your half of the screen was flashing with a violent red to show how close you were to dying again. You crossed your arms. You have all but moved into his apartment. Now you knew that if you got along well enough, it was fine. After everything was moved in, you had to work together to find the right niches for all of your things, but it was comfortable. His neighbors were polite. One of them dared not to be.
