Andrés and Judith sit cross-legged in his bed, each eating half of the Swiss roll-like delicacy he refers to as Golfeados.

"So why did you come to America," she asks once she finishes what's left in her mouth. "Not to be rude, but wouldn't Venezuela be better than here?"

"It was. I had everything before CAP – Carlos Andrés Pérez – became president," he explains stoically. "I was among the few rich people in my neighborhood, and I had everything a boy or a man could ask for."

"What happened?" His shoulders jerk back as he huffs through his nose.

"Mayhem. It was like an American blackout in my town. Houses were broken into, and children were ripped from the streets dozen by dozen – women fell prey to the chaos too." He takes his gaze away from her and returns it to his Golfeado. She knits her brows, listening intently to his story. "Isabella – my girlfriend at the time – she, uh, left with her family one night, and we never figured out where she went."

"Oh, my God, I'm so sorry." He sighs as she places her left hand on his right knee.

"It's fine. At least, um, I have memories and a picture of her," Andrés says, then he looks at her. "Would you like to see it?"

"Of course." She removes her hand and observes him leaning toward his shared nightstand, which sits between his and his roommate's beds. When he opens the top drawer, her eyes widen as she notices the three boxes of black condoms neatly stacked against the left, one of which is open.

He pulls a Polaroid picture from beneath a pack of double-A batteries and moves closer to her so they can both examine it.

A young lady with loose curls down to her armpits stands beneath a Magnolia tree, hands folded behind her back and a smile that puts one on Judy's face. Her skin is darker than Judith's, but the floor-length earth-toned peasant dress she's wearing complements it.

"She's stunning," Judith tells him, then squints at her face. "Does she have a mole above her lip?"

"Yeah, she'd get compliments a lot because of it. This was the picture I took of her before she passed; I wanted her to see herself the way I did." He turns his face to her as she looks at him. He looks at her lips and then into her eyes. "Do you have any pictures of your ex?"

"No," she responds with a sad scoff. She looks down at what's left of her pastry. "David wasn't big on pictures. He was superstitious when it came to that. If you get caught on camera, you lose your soul."

"That's ridiculous – and kind of funny at the same time." Andrés smiles at her. "Do you want a polaroid of us? I think this moment should be remembered."

She gives him a friendly smile and nods. Andrés stands up, and Judy's gaze is drawn to his dresser at the foot of his bed before he walks toward it. He takes his pastel blue Polaroid from his top drawer and places it on the surface between an aloe vera plant and a framed picture of a bowl of fruit, then carries it to his bed.

"Where do I look?" He scoots closer to her and extends his arm to position the camera with them in the frame.

"Don't look at the flash; look at the lens thing," he instructs her. "After three, we say cheese, and I'll snap the picture."

They recite it together. His index mashes the button, and a bright yet swift light warms their smiling faces.

The square picture slides out of the bottom of the box and into his lap. Judith lifts it into her free hand while he places the camera on the nightstand.

She hands him their photograph, which he vigorously shakes back and forth, a gentle breeze caressing her cheek. They examine the image once the color has settled on the face.

"You look pretty," he tells her with a toothy grin.

"You do too." Hers falls when she hears her own words. They lock eyes. "I mean you look – handsome. I'm sorry."

"I know what you meant. Don't worry; I'm not offended," Andrés assures her, and while her gaze returns to their Polaroid, his lingers on her lips.

As she turns to face him, he leans in, and his soft lips touch hers. He pulls away, her heart fluttering and her eyes trapped in the clutches of his.

"I should – go," she mumbles, but before she can get off his twin bed, he steals another kiss from her, and she lets him. When Manuel sees them, he folds his arms and stands at the door. He casts a glance to his right at the falafel tray in their trash can.

Why aren't you stopping him? Do something. Say something!

When Andrés' mouth trails her jawline to her neck, she slides out from under him and stands on the floor.

"I'm sorry," he apologizes, and they both turn to look at Manuel. He's looking at them with his right brow raised. "What're you doing?"

"Well, I was coming back to get my bag before my class, and I didn't want to interrupt you two love birds." He strolls toward his bed, and Judith passes him on the way to the arch. Before she crosses the threshold, he says, "When you're done, remember to tell Jerome you're not interested in him. He won't shut up about you, and if you two are fucking, then he shouldn't be strung along."

Andrés speaks to him in their mother tongue, and she throws her pastry in the trash before walking into the hall when Manuel responds dismissively. She approaches the stairs as Jerome, Khalíd, and Eric ascend them.

"Hey," he greets her, and she stops in front of them.

"Can you move so we can pass? I need to get my bag." Khalíd and Eric continue down the hall when she takes a step to the left. She directs her gaze at them.

"Are you okay," he asks, and she scoffs then turns to him. Judith wipes her weary eyes.

"I'm fine. Just tired, I suppose," Judith says, and he narrows his eyes at her in thought.

"You say that a lot," he reminds her. Manuel returns to the hall, and he watches him approach.

"And you ask me if I'm okay a lot." He doesn't respond, and she takes a breath. "I'm fine. Thank you for asking and caring."

"Goose," Manuel lets out through a forced cough, and her hands curl into fists. She glares at him with irritation, and she wants to push him.

"Cut it out, or you're off the team," Jerome threatens with his head turned to him. He stares at Jerome, unsure if he's serious, then he glances at Judith and descends to the first floor.

"Thank you." Her hands relax as she huffs a breath to calm herself. He responds with a nod.

"Can I ask you something?" She nods yes, and Khalíd and Eric return to the stairwell.

"See you in class, 'Rome," Eric tells him, and he gestures his chin up to signal his approval. They follow Manuel out of their frat house.

"Why're you kicking it with that sleazeball, David, if he's putting his hands on you," he asks her, and she folds her arms.

"That's none of your business." He purses his lips and nods, his gaze fixed on the railing in his right hand. "Especially seeing that you and your band of geeks didn't help me or Mary."

"For your information, I did want to help," he tells her with a sharp tone, dismissing her insult.

"Yeah, well, what stopped you? If you say that David scared you, then I'll lose respect for you." She waits for his response, but he merely stares at her, his jaw slightly dropped, as he mulls over what she said.

"No one scares me, Judith, but I kept from fighting him because Eric reminded me of the time one of our frat brothers was expelled and arrested for defending a girl from her boyfriend last month," he tells her, and her scornful gaze softens. "Since then, the phrase around campus is 'mind your business.' I hardly know you, but I care about you because as a Christian, I'm unable to ignore signs of abuse; I don't ignore it, but I choose to stand back until the victim asks for my help."

"I don't want someone to save me, Jerome, and I'm not a victim." He looks at her with an agitated sigh.

"Yeah, I'm sure you don't. David will gladly fight David for you if you complain. Makes perfect sense." He takes a step behind her, and she turns her body to him.

"He's not my boyfriend anymore; He broke up with me yesterday." He comes to a halt, the corners of his lips curling into a brief smile. "So, I suppose I'm fine now."

"For how long," he asks without looking at her. A resident, wearing a black shirt and jeans, steps out of the first door on the right. He has full pouty lips, dark, inviting eyes, and a scruffy beard accentuating his Greek godlike facial structure.

"Hey, Jerome," he says before she can answer the vague question. They exchange glances, and Jerome turns around and smiles at him.

"Hey, Cyrus. I'll see you in class." He nods before pulling his shoulder-length dreadlocks into a man bun. On his way downstairs, he winks at Judith, and she rolls her eyes as her heart flutters.

"Did Mary tell you anything," she asks when they're alone, and his gaze drifts to Cyrus' closed door in thought. She tilts her head and slightly widens her eyes impatiently. "It's a yes or no question."

"She expressed concerns, yes." Judith scoffs incredulously. "She said he forces himself on you amongst other things, and before you get pissed, I'm sure she meant no harm. My friends and I were all she had after that fight happened between the three of you."

"I don't care if she was lonely. That wasn't for her to tell you," she says, raising her voice, and Jerome shushes her with his right index finger to his lips.

"I'm not trying to start anything between you two, Judy." He lowers his hand into his pocket along with the other. She shakes her head in disbelief. "Is it true?"

"No," she says with her eyes on his sneakers.

"Can you look at me and deny it?" She takes a shaky breath and lifts her chin.

"He doesn't make me do anything that I don't want to do, and he's not violent towards me." Jerome stares at her, hoping she'll crack and tell the truth.

"Well, the next time he affectionately chokes you until your neck is black, I'll look the other way." He gives her a sarcastic smile before turning away. She watches him stroll to his room.

"Where's Mary," she asks him after staring at the floor in thought.

"She went to her dorm." He throws the response over his shoulder and closes the door behind him. Judith dashes down the stairs and out the door.

She sprints across the grass, panting as she reaches Zeta Kappa Delta just when Mary leaves with David in tow. Judith stops in front of them with a whirlwind of questions flooding her mind but none leaving her mouth.

"Can I help you," she asks when she stares in silence for five seconds, then she glances at David.

"What're you two doing together?" Mary adjusts the strap of her book bag on her shoulder as she gives Judith a look of disdain.

"I was looking for you, and Mary said she hadn't seen you since you left the student lounge," he explains, then looks at the clouds above her head as if he's deep in thought. "Something about you leaving with some Spanish guy that her friend is roommates with."

"You told him about Andrés?" She widens her eyes at Mary, who's staring at her with a laid-back expression.

"That's his name?" He tilts his head, and all she sees when she looks into his eyes is psycho. He clutches Judith's backpack's right strap in his fist while the other strap dangles above the ground.

"Actually, David, because you broke up with me, I don't have to have this discussion with you; we're done, remember?" He blinks and jerks his head back in surprise.

"I'll see you around, Davie," Mary says and captures her attention. Mary walks down the path to her lecture with a sinister smile across her lips, Judith's confused eyes behind her.

"So, I break it off with you when you insult me, and you run off with some beaner," he raises his voice. Judith surveys the area when David yells a slur, then breathes a sigh of relief when she doesn't see anyone. "Fantastic. That's so you, Judith."

"Give me my bag," she orders him while reaching her hands toward it, but he lays his right hand against her chest to keep her at arm's length.

"Not until you admit that you've been waiting for the opportunity to step out on me." He scrunches his twitching mouth, resisting the urge to shed a tear.

"David, I'm not playing with you," she warns him and nudges his hand away. Before she can attempt to snatch her bag from him, he returns his hand to her chest. "Get off of me!"

She slaps his hand away and shoves him, causing his wheelchair to collide with the door. They lock their gazes on each other, their mouths agape and shock visible in their dark eyes.

"Hanging with Goliath has you smelling yourself, I see." He lets go of the strap, and she watches her bag fall to the ground. He rolls up his sleeves, and she takes a step back, her heels over the cobblestone path's edge.

"No. Breaking up with you was enough for me to see how fucked up in the head you are, and I can't change that," she yells at him, and he lingers in that spot as if he's dwelling on what she said.

Her eyes widen as he rolls himself toward her with anger on his face, and she grunts at the impact of him tackling her to the soft grass when he jolts from his chair.

"All the things that I put up with while we were dating," he begins while fighting to form a grip on her wrists, but she persistently yanks her arms away. "And this is how you thank me?"

"Get off of me, David," she yells at him, her rage turning to fear as his fingers tighten around her wrists. As she stares at him, he pins them above her head, causing her to hyperventilate.

"I could kill you right now, and no one would know a thing," he says to her under his breath. The air stops in her lungs, and her heart skips a beat.

"I think I'd know," an older woman's voice from behind causes him to flinch away from her and land to her right, wincing as he hits his legs together.

He's sitting in the grass, his gaze fixed on the pudgy brown woman in front of the sorority door. Judith lies there, staring at the sky, realizing how mentally deranged David has become.