Their aggressive silence seemed to attack everyone that came into the building. Strangers and familiar neighbors walked in, saw her sitting in the ugly green chair, and Peter hovering near, and they immediately booked it to their next objective. Cat figured it was maybe the combination of the blood and the look of murder on her face.

She didn’t think to do anything other than wait for Hannah until the RA, Daniel, opened the front doors and walked inside. He didn’t even look up while he walked; he typed away at his phone, laughing to himself. If it weren’t for the red hair, he reminded her of Peter.

“Daniel,” Cat called. When he looked up, his eyes bulged out of his head.

“Woah! What happened?” Daniel’s chocolate-colored eyes darted back and forth between Peter and Cat, making up his own mind before they could answer. “Did someone leave you guys in a room together or something? Christ!” Well, it wasn’t an unreasonable hypothesis.

“Can I borrow your phone?” she asked him instead. Gripping the plush arms, she slowly rose from the chair to approach him. “Mine’s ruined--I just have to call my parents really quick to let them know to call my roommate to get in touch with me.” Daniel raised his brows at her, but nodded.

“Yeah, just gotta finish this text. I’ve gotta rock a piss, so I’ll just come back for it.” And, after a quick minute, he looked up and started to hand her his phone. “What happened?”

“I slipped,” she answered quickly. “He--” Although Cat gestured with her thumb to Peter behind her, she was uncertain if he actually lined up with where she blindly pointed. But what words to use? He saved me was--although true--far too intimate. “He took me to the Health Center.” Daniel couldn’t seem to recover from his shock. “Thanks for letting me borrow your phone. I’ll be done by the time you get back, I promise.”

“Yeah,” Daniel sounded, no longer looking at her, “take your time. Yeah--glad you’re okay.” He didn’t seem to register handing her his phone, but he did eventually find his way to the restroom down the hallway.

Cat didn’t waste any time, and immediately pressed on the touch screen to dial her mother’s cell number.

"Hello?" her mother answered after the third ring. Just hearing her voice, after all that happened…. Cat sucked in a deep breath to prevent the heat from escaping her eyes.

“Mom, it’s me….” She wrapped her arms around herself and faced toward the wall, as if it would give her any sort of privacy. “My phone’s--it’s not--” Now was not the time to panic. “It’s broken. I’ll text you from my roommate’s phone so you have a way to get a hold of me, but I haven’t seen her yet.”

Her mother hesitated on the other line. ”Baby girl, are you alright?" Expert mother instincts. From the corner of her vision, Cat could just barely make out Peter’s looming frame, unfocused, but clearly listening. Good lord, he had no concept of privacy, did he?

She glanced at him for a brief moment; of course, he snapped his gaze away to pretend like he wasn’t actively listening.

"Mama,” Cat began in a snap decision to switch to Spanish, “estoy lastimado.” Fully turning away from Peter, she began to speak to her mother in their native tongue, detailing how she fainted by the side of a pond, that someone took her to the hospital, that she and Dad would receive a bill for twenty dollars. Her mother reacted as expected: wailing that she couldn’t be there for her, regret that she couldn’t drop everything and drive down to Bay Area University to take care of her.

"Mi pobre niña!” she cried. ”Why did you faint?” Now came the part Cat dreaded. She took in a shaky breath and stared at the floor. She didn’t lie to her mother very often. And with how on-point her instincts were at the beginning of this conversation, there was no use trying to lie now.

Cat continued in Spanish, ”I had to replace a book, and I haven’t been able to afford much to eat. I just--my paycheck is coming tomorrow, so I--”

“Why didn’t you call us?” her mother asked, her voice taut as if she was in physical pain. “We can wire you money, Kitty Cat. It’s okay!” No it wasn’t. She already absorbed so much of their income…. “What upcoming expenses do you have, honey? Just the doctor and the phone?”

Cat’s eyes were glued to the floor enough to see that her clothes were almost undoubtedly ruined. She didn’t know how to get blood out of anything.

"My workout clothes…." At the mention, her eyes flickered up to Peter. He sat on the arm of a chair, rather than in it like an adult, waiting, not looking at her. Cat sighed. ”The person that--that got me, um, out of the pond…. I got blood all over his clothes and his towels. I--I can pay you back, but I should replace them--"

"We will replace them, mija," her mother promised. “This person, do you know them? Can we thank them somehow?” Oh, god. The last thing Cat wanted was her mother finding Peter’s address so she could send him tamales and a hand-written note. Ew. No, thank you.

“Um--he’s my friend, Cam’s, roommate, and he was with a couple other guys." She silently begged for her mother to stop asking questions about him.

"Is it that one cute guy you complain about? What’s-his-name? Peter?” Cat only answered with an “mmhmm,” in hopes that it would be enough. ”Why were you hanging out with him?”

“We weren’t hanging out,” Cat corrected in a mumble. ”He just showed up at the right time, or something, I guess." Now her heart started to pound as she thought of it all again. Seeing Peter’s face one second, feeling him hold her the next. What was the last conversation she had with her mother? Some sort of text about how Cat missed TV. Nothing important. That would have been the last thing she spoke to her mother about if…. She shivered.

“He must not be that bad if he saved my baby girl." And at that moment, Cat found herself caught between the idea of agreeing with her mother, and correcting her, but neither idea won out in the end, as Daniel appeared in the peripherals of her vision. Cat frowned, and cut her mother off in English.

“Can I call you back from Hannah’s phone? I was just borrowing this for a minute to contact you--”

"Yes! Of course, baby girl. Call me as soon as you can and we will figure out what to do next. I love you.”

“Love you too.” Daniel gave a pronounced frown when Cat handed his phone back to him.

“Glad you’re okay,” he repeated to her. “Look, I gotta grab my stuff and bounce, but if you need anything, let me know, okay? I’ll be back later.”

“Thanks. I should be fine, but thanks.” After a few quick words complimenting Peter on his “hero skills,” Daniel bid them farewell and headed up the stairwell without a second glance back.

Sighing, Cat returned to the armchair she originally sat in. Her head, at least, throbbed consistently. If she had any over the counter meds, it would probably help her feel better. Maybe Hannah did…. Catherine was about to twist around and sink into the chair when Peter cleared his throat. She looked up at him.

“You don’t have to get me replacement clothes,” he said.

Cat wrinkled her brows together. “Huh?” How did he know about that?

“They’re cheap, they’re old--don’t worry about it. And the towels are the school’s. You don’t owe me anything.”

The familiar burn in her stomach returned, and she turned to him, abandoning any thought of resting until Hannah got here. “Were you eavesdropping on my conversation?”

“No, I just overheard--”

“You speak Spanish?” she realized at the same time, eyes wide. Why did she even bother switching languages--how was she supposed to know he spoke Spanish?

Peter paused for far too long before he asked, “¿Eres un idiota?”

“Excuse me?” Why did he just ask if she was an idiot? In Spanish? Which he somehow understood?

He looked at her like she was crazy. “Uh, my name is Jerard Peter Leon. That’s Spanish. How did you not know that?” And he said it with all the flawless, flowery accent required to pull off a name like that. Cat blinked.

“I...didn’t know your full name.” Her tone was a mixture of defensiveness and quiet defeat. If she had, she might have waited to tell her mom anything. Did he hear what she said, too? Was the volume on Daniel’s phone loud enough so that Peter could hear everything her mother said?

Peter glared. “How did you not know my name? Professor Harlem literally said it first day of class, and I had to correct her because she butchered it so bad.” She hadn’t paid attention that day. Cat was so focused on her own name, she didn’t even think to listen for his.

She shook her head, staring into his bright green eyes, examining his pale skin, his blond hair. “But you’re...you don’t look....” She hated herself for saying it like that.

“Yeah, well, my dad--or--my mom’s hus--ex hus--my--we thought I thought I was until recently.” That was a weird stumble. Did that have to do with his money issues? New divorce in the family, income juggling? Stumbling over “dad” to “mom’s ex” revealed a lot more than he planned, but she didn’t react to this newfound information any different from his other words. “Maybe if you stopped assuming you knew everything just by looking at someone, you’d know when code-switching would actually work.” Granted, what she nearly said wasn’t exactly polite, but his tone was far too accusatory. Rude. Irritating.

Cat crossed her arms. “You--you weren’t supposed to hear any of that! Can’t you tell when something’s private? How was I supposed to know you were Latino? Read the room, for fuck’s sake!”

“I’m not Latino, I just said--”

“Close enough!” she spat. “Raised Latino, suddenly not, whatever; you’re Latino, just shut up!” She was supposed to be making him feel bad. But for whatever reason, her words didn’t seem to dent him one bit. He almost seemed like he liked what she said: brow raised, his grimace softer than before. And, for a split second while she realized it, a slight pang in her head connected the dots. Dad to ex-husband, thought he was Latino until recently. Dammit, what she just said probably made him feel better. Ugh! “No!” she started again, pointing. “No, the point is, you’re a nosy, stupid--” Something inside her was desperate to make him furious, desperate to see the ugly side of him. She fished for words, and as they came to mind, she spewed them without a second thought: “You’re an egotistical bastard with a god complex!” He flinched. There it was, the pressure point.

Peter glowered, now, crossing his arms over his chest, stepping closer so he could look down at her. Here it was. Proof that he was just as shitty as Cat thought he was.

“What bothers you more, hm?” he asked. “That I was the one that saved you, or that you wouldn’t do the same for me? Does it bug you that I’m a better person than you?” It took him so much less time to figure out how to make her shrink. Her head pounded even harder; heat rose to her cheeks, forcing her to blink a lot more than she normally did. Do not cry in front of him, she chanted to herself in her head.

“Y-you’re not a better person,” Cat stammered. She’d like to think she’d rescue anyone that was drowning, no matter who it was. She never had an opportunity to prove that she would, like Peter just did….

“So then your problem is that it was me--?” Of course it was!

Her hands shook, even though she kept them held so tightly in her folded arms. “If you’re so upset, you should have just left me in the pond!”

Peter’s eyes went wide. “I wouldn’t just--!”

Finally, Hannah’s voice broke through the tension. “Oh my god, who put you guys together without supervision?” She burst through the doors with such a huge smile, it snapped them out of their bubble. When Peter stepped away to turn and address Hannah, she screamed, finally with a view of all the dried blood all over Peter’s clothes. “What the hell?”

Peter started off with a heavy sigh. “She fell, hit her head, went to the Health Center, and has to be monitored all weekend. My shift is over.” While Hannah stared with a look of horror, Cat couldn’t take her eyes off of Peter, who threw his arms as if he was shoving off responsibility.

“And you know what?” he continued, pointing at her with renewed fervor, “I’d do it again. Even now.” With his lips pursed so tightly they nearly disappeared, he spun around and stalked out toward the doors that Hannah just came through. Cat watched him the entire way, the way his energy followed him like a storm, the way he completely ignored the way people stared at his bloodied clothes. He took the anger with him, leaving her exhausted and weak.

She barely felt her roommate’s arms wrap around her. “Oh my god, did he push you or something?” Hannah asked.

Cat blinked as the front doors to the building slammed shut. “No. He saved my life.”

“What--then why are you crying?” It wasn’t until Hannah said something that Cat became aware of the tears streaming down her cheeks, dripping onto her roomie’s shoulder and into her hair.

No words came to her. Nothing that made sense, anyway.