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worse. I lucked out. Jonah’s roommate, Christopher, for example, had three gerbils that he slept with. So far, Morgan had actually been totally respectful, clean, logical, and fair in her cohabitational philosophy. She seemed sane and had already declared herself a poli-sci/gender studies double major, and we hadn’t even had our first full week of classes. Most mornings she was up and out by eight, so we didn’t cross paths too much.
    â€œI’m so hungover,” I moaned.
    â€œI’m so shocked.”
    â€œSorry about my phone. I know we discussed being mindful of each other’s sleeping schedules, but always feel free to just come over and turn off the ringer if that ever happens again.”
    â€œOh great. Is this going to be happening a lot? Because it’s a little bit hard to sleep when your roommate is sitting up in her bed at four in the morning eating a slice of pizza and watching Pretty Little Liars without headphones in.”
    â€œOh my God. I did that?”
    â€œYeah, pretty much.”
    â€œFuck me, I’m sorry. It’s not really my style to go out that hard. I don’t know what came over me.”
    â€œNo worries. Have your fun. Freshman year, first frat party, I assume . . . Hot guys, pounding music, vomit. I get it. I tried to look for your phone while you were sleeping, but I think youwere on top of it and I didn’t want to get fresh. We barely know each other.”
    Another text popped up.
    â€œI will definitely change that ringtone when I’m less hungover.”
    â€œMuch appreciated.”
    It was from Jonah. His eighth.
    Jonah 10:43AM Check Instagram
    Jonah 10:48AM Did you check?
    Jonah 10:48AM I tagged you in a few. Don’t hate me.
    Jonah 10:59AM Are you sleeping?
    Jonah 11:31AM Tay?
    Jonah 11:46AM I want Chuck Fils
    Jonah 11:46AM *Chick-fil-A
    Jonah 12:20PM I’m going to Chick-fil-A. Come
    A n hour later I was sitting across from Jonah, who, despite having partied harder than I did last night, looked unscathed by the debauchery. He was silly handsome and if he wasn’t gay, Jonah would’ve probably been the sluttiest jock at our high school. Unfortunately, there hadn’t been too many options for him at Ballard.
    We were both wearing the unofficial uniform of the American student. On him: his CDU Swimming sweatshirt and a pair of Adidas track pants; on me: an oversized American Apparelcardigan, a nice clean pair of Lululemon leggings, and I hate to admit this, but my favorite, four-year-old purple UGGs. My hair was still wet from my shower, up in a little bun. Before me was a deluxe chicken sandwich, a large waffle fries, and a large Dr Pepper. At that moment, as I took my first few bites, there wasn’t a happier human being on earth. Chicken + Grease = Hangover Feeling Four Thousand Percent Better.
    â€œGod forgive us for momentarily succumbing to the institution of Chick-fil-A despite their appalling homophobic beliefs—” I said with my mouth full of food.
    â€œBecause this sandwich is so fucking good,” Jonah interjected.
    â€œExactly,” I said.
    â€œLast night was insane,” Jonah said as he began to devour his second spicy chicken biscuit.
    â€œI know. But good insane. I was literally blackout and had to do some serious deleting and untagging on Facebook and Instagram on my walk over here.”
    â€œMe too. So, were all of those girls we were with last night BZs?”
    I could sense a dig in Jonah’s tone. He was never a big fan of Greek stuff—neither of us were.
    â€œYep. All of ’em.”
    â€œDid you know them from before? Through Kelly?”
    â€œNo. Literally, I met all of them last night for the first time. But they knew me.”
    â€œIs that the treatment they give to all legacies?”
    â€œNo idea. I mean, they all knew who I was because of Kelly, but still. It was for sure weird, but in a nice way.”
    â€œVery nice ofthem indeed.