Halfway through her junior year at the state college, Julia let her brother Simon move into her apartment. She knew how impossible her parents could be. Neither she nor Simon were ever "bad" kids - they never took drugs, never disregarded curfew, never skipped school. What scared Mom and Dad was their attachment to their arts - she to painting, he to his music. Neither of them ever had dates or went to any of the high school social events. For someone to spend all their time on such "frivolities" as the arts meant they were "silly and inconsequential". For someone to think they could make a life out of the arts meant they were "not right in the head".
Having Simon around wasn't the inconvenience Julia had been afraid of. In fact, the two of them made perfect roommates. They were both quiet, introverted people who enjoyed privacy and disliked idle chatter. He was tidy, and helped to keep the refrigerator stocked. Her last roommate - a brash redheaded girl her own age - ate anything she stuck in the fridge. Tall, lanky Julia had to tuck cookies and cereal away on the top shelf to keep The Mouth (as Julia privately referred to her) from swallowing it. This tactic would never work with Simon, as he had also inherited their father's height (and bony frame). Fortunately, Simon wasn't the type to take without restoring what he took. His part-time job after his high school day was done kept him away for most of the afternoon, giving Julia a few hours before she left for her evening position as bookstore cashier. Everything worked perfectly until James came around.
Julia saw James around town in his leather jacket and slicked-back hair, but never spoke to him (of course, she rarely spoke to anyone, and then only if necessary). He frightened and intrigued her, though in her conscious mind she wrote him off as just another silly young kid who thinks he's tough shit. Julia walked in from school one day to find James spread out casually on her couch. She stared at him with disdain. In return, he smiled smugly at her, looking her up and down approvingly. Angered, she dropped her backpack to the floor and stomped into Simon's room. Simon sat on his floor, searching through his CD collection.
"Who, I mean, WHAT is that on my couch?" she spat at him. She had never yelled at Simon like this before.
"What are you talking about?" Simon asked without turning around.
"You know what I'm talking about. The piece of crap sitting in my living room." Julia said through clenched teeth.
Simon sighed, and faced her. "Damn it, Julia. I have one person over and you throw a fit. You're worse than Mom." Seeing that this hurt her, he explained, "I didn't mean it like that. I just don't know why you have to get all pissed off. It's not like he's trashing the place or anything. He's a cool guy - he knows tons about blues and stuff."
"He just..." she sighed, and looked out his window. "He just bugs me, I guess." She turned towards the door. "Just don't hang out here too much, 'kay?"
"Yeah, yeah," he answered, sifting through his CD's. "Whatever you say."
She passed him in the living room. In an attempt to dull her first impression as a bitch, she smiled as friendly a smile as she could manage. He smiled back challengingly, eyebrows raised to show that he knew better. She sat in the old overstuffed chair that faced her ratty couch.
"Simon says you know a lot about blues," she said, not knowing what else to say or even why she was saying anything. He stared at her, and she found it impossible to break gaze with his deep brown, nearly black eyes. In her peripheral vision, she saw for the first time the elaborate tattoos on his thickly muscled forearms.
"Yeah. But Simon didn't say his sister had such a nice ass," he hissed, then smiled back at her.
She stood up. "Fuck you!" she sneered, went to her room and slammed the door.
"Any time, baby," she heard him call after her.
"What was that all about?" she heard Simon ask.
