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one, you can stop calling me that god-awful name. I got my braces off five years ago. My overbite is long gone.”
    He chuckled and ran his hands through his hair in frustration. “You don’t even know what you want. It’s sad, you know. Let me ask you a question. Is your book based off any of those shitty eighties movies that you were so obsessed with when we were younger? Because you seem like the kind of girl to me who’s always wanted a Bender, never given a shit about her Duckie, and was always chasing assholes named Blaine. Even if they never gave her the time of day. But where does that leave a girl like you? Giving up her virginity to the first guy who was bland enough to take it. Living alone, not dating, and writing about imaginary men on boats.” He took one long breath as he turned and looked toward the  TRON cutout. He shook his head and walked over to grab his jacket off the chair, muttering under his breath the entire time.
    “Where the hell are you going?” I asked, stepping in front of him to stop his exit.
    “Home.” His answer was abrupt, his jaw pulsing with irritation.
    I took the chance to look him over for a moment, debating whether or not to sock him one good time in his ’nads. “How do you know so much about those old movies?”
    He raised an eyebrow and shrugged. “You talked about them all the time.”
    “Not to you.”
    “You do know my mom isn’t even forty yet, right? She had me when she was seventeen. I wanted to know what the big deal was, and she was into those crappy movies, too. I watched them. Big deal.”
    I couldn’t respond.
    “There  wasn’t  any big deal about them, by the way. They were as much fantasy as the shit you’re writing about. So maybe I should leave you to your pretty boy on the wall and forget about trying to help you figure it out.” He made a move to get by me and I stepped in his way again.
    “What did you plan here? You made it sound like it was just us having sex . . .”
    He sighed and reached into his pocket for gum, depositing a piece in his mouth before responding. “Like I said, having sex once isn’t going to point you in the right direction. You have no clue about your own body. You don’t know a thing about pleasure. And yet you’re trying to sell it to the public? If you were doing this book on ancient history, would you just visit one website? Would you just read one book? Or would you do a shit-ton of research?”
    My mind reeled with his revelation. “What are you saying?”
    Warner moved toward the door again. “I’m saying that if you want my help, we do this my way. Get some damn patience, because I’m not going to make this fast for you. Or easy. And if you’re still interested in what I’ve got for you, then you can let me know. Otherwise”—he gave a dismissive shrug—“I’ll just hand in my portion of the fruit fly lab the day it’s due.” His hand wrapped around the doorknob, and he opened the door, letting a gust of cold air in from the breezeway. My voice was stuck in my throat as I watched his first foot step forward, but before he could make it all the way out the door, I yelled.
    “I’m in, damn it! I’m in. God . You are such an arrogant prick, you know that?”
    He smiled a little as the door began to swing closed behind him. “Yeah, I know. See you after classes tomorrow.”
    The door closed with a very final click, and I stared in disbelief as silence surrounded me, leaving me with my thoughts, alone. My heart was beating in my chest and echoing between my legs. With a frustrated grunt, I stormed over to my backpack and pulled out my laptop, opened it, and queued up my Word document. My words appeared onscreen, and I stared at them with disdain as I pointed my cursor at the Edit button. With one heart-wrenching click, I scrolled down to the Select All option and then hit Delete.
    It was gone. All of it.
    My hands felt numb, and my head was dizzy as I positioned my fingers atop the