"Top or bottom?"

Edward splutters, spraying a mouthful of soda down his chin and all over his Morrissey t-shirt. "Pardon me?" he asks, ineffectively mopping at his shirt with his hand.

Jasper stops unloading his suitcase and turns to look at him. "Do you want the top bunk, or the bottom?" His eyes flick to Edward's cola stained clothes and his mouth twitches into half a smile. "You can choose, I like it both ways."

"What did you say?" Edward's eyes are wide as he takes in Jasper's stance. He looks relaxed, as he always does, no matter the situation. Right now–in their new college dorm room–Jasper looks like he's lived here for years. Wearing his worn-in cargo shorts and flip flops, he's an advertisement for casual indifference.

"I said that I don't mind which bunk I get, you're the fussy one. Here," he digs into one of Edward's bags and throws a clean shirt at him. "You should change. You're all ... sticky."

Edward puts down the can and pulls his shirt over his head. He uses it to wipe his chin and then his hands before stretching his arms into the clean one. As his head pops through the neck of the shirt, he sees Jasper looking at him, eyes on his stomach, hand adjusting his crotch. Edward pats down his hair and pretends he didn't see. But he files the memory away for future reference.

"So what's it to be, Edward? Come on, I want to get unpacked and out in the sun."

Edward looks at Jasper and thinks back to the promise he made to himself last week. To start the year as he means to go on, to not regret his inaction. He makes his decision.

"I like it on top."