Aureus waved her father off with a sigh. She was more than happy to be independent, but she worried about her father's being alone. It would be different if he'd get himself a girlfriend, but he'd never shown any interest in another woman. Aureus could remember her mother, though not perfectly. She recalled her laugh, sparkling and bright, even in those last few weeks of lying in her hospital bed. She remembered her smell, warm and milky with an overtone of the flowery perfume she loved. She loved her mother dearly, but it had been a long time. As her father turned out of the parking lot, she hoped this would be a new start for both of them. Maybe without a child in the house he'd be able to date again.

"Aur!"

Even though she'd seen John the day before, she was still glad to see him now, and he looked subtly different. Running through the wide back doors of the dorm building, jumping over an empty packing carton, he launched himself at her for a hug.

"What floor are you on?" he asked.

"Twelve. You?"

"Nine. Not too bad. Mom and Dad dropped me off early to get settled so they could go get Devon moved in over at state. I'm all done. Need help unpacking?"

"Sure thing," she said, linking her arm in his and turning him around to face the building. "New home. Massive, isn't it?"

"And attractive," he said with a laugh.

The tall tower blocks housing most of Carolina's freshmen were far from attractive. Concrete, gray, and without air conditioning, they were a rite of passage. If you could make it out here on south campus, then you were deemed suitable enough to move into a more luxurious dorm closer to classes in sophomore year. But for the moment, the ugly cement tower could have been a palace, and Aureus grinned as they walked through the doors.

Watching John run up the stairs in front of her, she had a flashback to the first time she'd seen him. Lying on the linoleum floor of the Sandton High corridor, he'd looked delicate and so young. He appeared to be a completely different person now—buff, fit, like a slimmed-down version of his older brother, who Aureus secretly found very attractive indeed. Yet there was still that fragility about him; he still seemed fine boned, easily broken. Also, there was something about the way he moved. It was too studied, like he wasn't exactly sure which muscles did what. He was still quiet, too, or at least he was when he wasn't around her. She'd watched him sometimes, and she saw when she was gone, he reverted to his old self, the one who watched others but never spoke. The bullying had stopped, though—she'd seen to that. She didn't have to call J.P. a coward more than once for him to stop pushing John around.

The taunts and jeering hadn't been so easy to control. But John seemed to take those in his stride, like he barely heard them, like he was surrounded by some kind of plastic shell or something. Despite his being her best friend, she still knew there was a side of him she didn't know. For a long time she'd thought he was gay and afraid to come out, but apparently he wasn't interested in anyone. Maybe that's it, she thought, rounding the corner and starting up the next flight of stairs. Maybe he just feels different because he isn't interested in sex like every other teenage boy around.

Thinking of sex made her blush. She had kept her promise to herself and had been kissed before college, and John knew, of course. What he didn't know was her guilty secret. He had no idea exactly whom she had kissed, and he wasn't going to know. She evaded his questions by telling him ladies didn't kiss and tell, and that was that.

This was a new start, though. She thought fondly as she watched the duct-taped heel of his sneaker round the next corner how John was going to come the hell out of that shell of his. She was confident that she knew him well enough to know whatever his secret side was, it would be as lovely, generous, kind, and loving as the rest of him.

***

"Any thought as to a major yet?" she asked, tearing tape off a box.

"Eh, I've got at least a year or so before I need to decide," he answered, pulling a blouse out of a case and holding it up. "Nice. Abercrombie?"

"Mmm," she said, nodding. "Maybe you should be a fashion major."

He laughed. "Boys don't do fashion," he said, picking up a pair of jeans.

She laughed with him but watched how carefully he handled the clothes, almost reverently. He seemed so content folding and hanging, and if she hadn't been watching so closely, she might never have noticed. Later she'd wonder how the hell she'd been so stupid, how she hadn't put two and two together. But when it happened, she was so damn confused that she hadn't tried to think logically.

The change was subtle, and she'd seen it happen so many times before to boys in class. He shifted his weight, his cheeks began to flush, and as he bent to grab a stack of t-shirts she saw unmistakable movement in his pants.

"Here," she said hurriedly. "I got those. I'll deal with the clothes. Why don't you run down and ditch some of those empty boxes?"

He snapped up as if suddenly woken, dropping the t-shirts. "Er, yeah, yeah, sure."

Turning away from her, he picked up an empty box, using it to cover his crotch when he turned back.

"Yeah, I'll take these. You'll be okay here?" His voice was high, and he was speaking fast.

"Absolutely. I'll finish up. You can go wash if you want. I'll come get you in a half hour or so, and we can scope out the food situation, yeah?"

"Yep, gotcha."

And he was gone.

What the hell had that been about? Mr. Asexual had been turned on by folding her clothes. She groaned. Please, God, don't let John be in love with me. That would be too weird. What was she going to do?

She sat on the bed. Nothing. She was going to do nothing. If he liked her, maybe he'd stop liking her. Otherwise, he'd have to say something at some point, and she'd deal with it then. Or maybe it had only been coincidence. Yes, she decided. Coincidence. That's what she was going to go with.

***

Jesus Christ. What the hell? John pounded down the stairs, feet smacking the concrete treads, the boxes catching on the hand rails at every turn. His goddamn, stupid, pathetic, unreliable body. Seriously? An erection while unfolding his best friend's clothes? She'd certainly noticed. Or else why had she sent him out? Christ. Un-fucking-believable.

He rounded the last corner to his floor. Screw the boxes—he needed to think. Unlocking his room, he saw the second bed was still unoccupied. It was the only good thing to happen today. He dropped the boxes and flopped onto his own bed. Dammit.

He'd ruined everything. Think. Think. Hiding himself at home had been fairly easy. He could allow himself to slip from time to time in his own space. Here, it was going to be harder, which meant he had to try harder. This crap was over. He took a deep breath and stood up, pulling a desk chair over to the wardrobe. Clambering up, he searched with his hands until he found what he'd hidden and pulled it down. The box.

He'd tried, he really had. He'd been able to limit himself, opening the lid no more than once a month and then only when the house was completely empty. But he was like a secret smoker, longing for that one forbidden cigarette, living for it, even though it came only once in a while. He'd added just one thing to his collection since Devon had seen it, a t-shirt that Aureus had left one night when she'd slept over. He'd hidden the cotton pullover under his pillow, waiting and waiting for her to ask him for it, his heart beating hard every time he saw its gray fabric peeking out from his bedclothes. And only after months, when it was clear she'd completely forgotten about it, had he added it to his box. But now it was going. It was all going.

He was, as his father had proudly told him on a long-ago morning, a man now. And this childish crap was going to stop. He had a new start, and he was damn well going to use it. Without even opening the box, he put it inside one of the empty packing cartons. This was his sacrifice. He'd throw it away and be done with the whole damn thing. Then he'd go and apologize to Aureus. He'd tell her his hormones were kicking in and make a joke of it. Tomorrow he'd head down to the gym to see about joining some kind of team. Hell, maybe he'd get himself a girlfriend. If he was going to do this, he was going to do it right. Enough pussyfooting around. He might be a freak, but everyone could learn, right? And if he studied the problem hard enough and tried hard enough, he'd become one of them.

Not wanting the chance to second-guess himself, he picked up the packing cartons, heavier now with their hidden treasure. There were dumpsters he'd seen earlier behind the building. Slamming his dorm room door, he strode purposefully down the corridor and took the stairs two at a time. He made it to the fourth floor before he collided with someone coming in the opposite direction.

"Well, well, if it isn't Ladybird," said a voice.

John automatically took a step back. J.P. Just his damn luck.

"Got your pink bedspread arranged all pretty up there, have you?" J.P. inquired, his voice taunting.

Two guys standing behind him laughed.

John's feet moved to take another step back; he wanted to get the box as far away from the poison of J.P. as possible. He thought of the box, thought of his new start, thought of becoming a man. As hard as he could, he thrust the packing carton forward, putting all his weight behind it.

"Screw you, J.P," he said, pushing past him.

He didn't wait to see if J.P. fell or not. Running down the rest of the stairs, he suddenly felt confident and sure of himself. The back doors were still propped open to help those moving in, and he spied the dumpsters immediately, overflowing with boxes and cartons. Marching towards them, he lifted the cardboard in his arms and threw it on top of the towering pile. Done.

It wasn't until the carton left his hands, taking the box with it, that he began to shake. The spiky confidence he'd felt drained away as rapidly as it had come. It was all he could do not to scream and cry like a child as he turned away and walked back into the dorms, leaving his box behind.

He gave himself the cold water treatment in the bathroom, splashing his face again and again until it was numb and frozen. When he couldn't feel his features anymore, he stood straight, letting the water drip down his neck. Almost unconsciously he noticed the bathroom mirrors were high on the wall, the only full-length mirror secreted behind the door. He wouldn't have to worry about seeing himself here. He shook his head to get rid of the thought. He wasn't playing those games anymore.

Only when the cold red skin of his face had faded to a slight pink did he leave the bathroom and head back up to Aureus's room. He knocked once and waited for her voice before he entered.

"Aur, I'm sorry," he said.

He knew that she knew what he was talking about, and he was damned if he was going to let it come between them. And maybe, he'd thought as he'd ascended the stairs, I can use it to my advantage. Having Aureus on his side as he plunged into masculinity would make things easier, wouldn't it?

"About what?" she asked innocently.

He could tell from the look on her face she was messing with him, that she'd already decided to take all this as a joke, and the weight inside him lessened somewhat.

"You know about what," he said, leaning against the door frame. "I guess my hormones sort of took over. Mom always said I was a late bloomer." He looked down at the floor. "And, er, I'm sorry if I embarrassed you."

Aureus laughed. "I'm un-embarrassable," she said, getting up from her desk, where she'd been arranging books. "Unlike you."

He looked up at her and grinned. "Me? Embarrassed? Never!"

She rolled her kohl-lined eyes. "Really? I guess I can just go ahead and tell everyone that you get your kicks from folding girls' clothes, then?"

He forced himself to laugh, knowing she was joking, but even the memory of holding the garments in his hands was enough to fill him with that strange feeling all over again.

"Sure, go ahead. It's the least I deserve," he said. "I met J.P. on the stairs a while ago. If you run, you might catch him so he can be the first to know."

"Ugh," said Aureus, grabbing her purse. "I'd almost let myself forget that cretin was following us here."

"Just my luck," John said.

"Alright, Birdman, I'll make you a deal," she said, taking her keys from the dresser. "I won't tell anyone about your clothes-folding fetish as long as you buy me dinner."

He pretended to think for a moment, furrowing his brow and sucking his teeth. "Hmm. Okay. Shake on it?"

She smiled and held out her hand, sealing the deal.

He escorted her down the stairs and out of the dorm. The campus was buzzing, the late evening heat and excitement of moving in keeping everyone out of doors. They chatted and laughed as they walked, and John was gratified to see that things seemed back to normal. But at the back of his mind, he still held the memory of those beautiful clothes, the way they'd felt in his hands. He knew that getting turned on had nothing to do with the fact that the garments belonged to Aureus. No, he was . . . jealous. The thought was so accurate, the name for the feeling so precise and correct that for a second he stopped walking.

"What?" asked Aureus, turning back to him.

He shook his head. "Nothing," he said. "Nothing."

*****