Drew shuts the refrigerator door and sits down on the stool across from me. “Why does America have to hate me?”

“Isn’t that your role?”

“My role?” He frowns and takes another swig of his water. I sigh. Is he really that naive to think that none of us have roles? I mean, it’s so obvious. In the House is just, like, a bunch of personality stereotypes that rotate on a show-by-show basis.

“Yeah, you know . . . we’re all supposed to have roles, aren’t we? The slutty one, the gangsta, the innocent shy one, the hot player guy who uses girls for sex, throwing them away when he’s done, like some kind of used tissue.”

“The hot girl with the long-distance college-basketball-playing boyfriend, navigating the temptations of college while her boyfriend does the same, thousands of miles away.”

I frown. Is that my role? The girl with the long-distance boyfriend? I feel a twinge of uneasiness start to rise up inside me, and I push it back down.

“Coffee?” I ask, taking another sip of the warm liquid.

“No thanks.” He slides his chair closer to the counter and twirls the cap to his water bottle between his fingers. “So, Alexandra, if you’re not a morning person, then what are you doing up so early? Don’t tell me you’re one of those girls who has to be up three hours before she goes somewhere just so she can look good.”

“How do you know my full name?” I ask. No one calls me Alexandra except my parents when they’re pissed. Or my brother Brian, when he wants to annoy me.

“It’s on your registration form,” he says, looking down at the paper on the counter, where I must have left it last night.

“You shouldn’t look at things that don’t belong to you,” I say, picking up the form and folding it in half.

“Maybe,” he agrees.

“And no,” I say. “I’m not high maintenance.” Well, not really. “I had a fight with my boyfriend.”

“Oh.” He suddenly looks slightly uncomfortable. “You want to talk about it?”

“Not really.” Like I’m really going to discuss my problems with him. I know a ton of guys like Drew, guys who know nothing about what it means to actually be in love. Not to mention the fact that I’m sure Corey would be less than thrilled to hear me talking about him to a complete stranger. “It’s actually nothing,” I say, thinking about Drew’s perception of my role in the house. “Everyone has fights, you know?”

“Sure,” Drew says, smiling reassuringly.

“I should get in the shower,” I say, getting up and dumping the rest of my coffee in the sink. “I’ll see ya later.”

“Later, Ally,” Drew says, and takes another sip of his water.

* * * * * *