Degrees of Passion by Michelle M. Pillow Page B

and look at her clock. She’d had this sensation before. It haunted her like some bittersweet secret she couldn’t shake free from. Kevin always came to her in her dreams. The few times she’d seen him around campus since ‘that night’, she’d made a point of hurrying the other way. He never made a move to follow her. But at night, when his image came, she couldn’t run and he always made a move.
    She clung to the dream, knowing the second she let it slip she would feel guilty for what she’d done, even if she and Trevor had been technically broken up. How could she know Trevor would call her and beg her to meet him? Or that he’d want her to take him back the following morning at breakfast?
    Trevor claimed he wanted to forget the 48 or so hours they were apart and never speak of it again. Sasha had readily agreed, thinking it the perfect solution at the time. Unfortunately, her easy out had turned into months of self-reproach and second guessing. The problem with omissions is that they still felt like lies. The longer a person kept them, the greater the fear of their discovery became.
    Sasha opened her eyes, realizing she was awake. The teasing caresses of her dreams were replaced by the stiff scratch of cheap sheets. Across the room, huddled under a thick stack of covers, her new roommate slept. Lulu Fritz had moved into Sasha’s two-bedroom suite that semester. Jo Garson and Carrie Hunter shared the other bedroom.
    Lulu was a sophomore taking undergrad classes. Sasha didn’t have much in common with her, but the housing department gave her a break on expenses for taking in the underclassman roommate. It had only been a few weeks, as the spring semester was new, but so far Sasha knew Lulu had an affinity for freestyle jazz, the color orange, creative writing, instant coffee and the freezing temperatures of her northern North Dakota home. Lulu turned down the heat every evening. Late February brought with it a bitter New York winter and Sasha awoke feeling like she lived in the Arctic. She shot the sleeping Lulu a dirty look, as she grabbed for her plush robe on the floor next to her bed.
    Slipping the robe over her arms, Sasha turned her alarm clock off before it had a chance to beep and made her way to the small kitchenette where Jo rummaged through the small fridge. Sasha yawned, shuffling her feet to join her. There wasn’t much room for cooking, but they managed to make do. After years in school, they had the art of sparse living down.
    ‘Morning,’ Jo mumbled, finding what she was looking for. Tall and thin, Jo was a fiery redhead with beautifully translucent skin. Tiny freckles dotted the bridge of her nose. She had the body of a model and an awkward grace that made her endearing. She pulled out a handful of single-serving flavored creamers and set them on the small table next to the brewing coffee pot. ‘I didn’t hear your alarm go off.’
    ‘Can’t sleep.’ Sasha took two mugs off a tray next to the pot and turned them over. She poured a serving of French vanilla into one and hazelnut into the other. ‘It’s warmer in here. My room is an icebox. I think Lulu opens a window in the middle of the night. Either that or she’s the abominable snow girl radiating the frosty temperatures of hell.’
    ‘Hell’s hot, sweetie,’ Jo teased.
    ‘I beg to differ.’ Sasha pulled the robe tighter and sat down at the table, adding wryly, ‘Sweetie.’
    ‘Hey, watch what you say to my girl,’ Carrie warned, shuffling out of her room.
    Carrie was average in height and weight, with chin-length brown hair and matching eyes. The woman never wore makeup, unless she was going clubbing. After pausing long enough to kiss Jo on the cheek, Carrie reached to grab her own cup. She didn’t wait for the pot to stop brewing as she pulled the carafe off the burner and filled her cup. The sizzle of coffee hitting the hot plate sounded.
    ‘You caught me.’ Sasha gave a small laugh. ‘I’m hoping you’ll defend your