CH1: Warmth

     Annabelle heaved an exasperated sigh as she trudged tiredly through the snow on the way back to her dorm. Well, the library wasn't much help, she thought to herself. 'This should be a simple topic to write on: "A natural necessity's additional effect on one's emotions," but I just can't think of what to do. The tastiness of hunger? The love behind sex? The blissful dreams of sleep? They've already been taken. . .' She shook her head forlornly. 'My Creative Writing professor comes up with the strangest prompts. . .'
     Letting her thoughts fade out, the young woman looked around at the chilly, white landscape and shivered. It was Mid-winter, and the weather had been particularly horrible this year. The ground off the sidewalk somehow consisted of snow, slush, and ice in varying places, due to the bipolar leaps in the temperature over the weekend.
     As the Freshmen passed by a tree, she noticed a stark contrast in color from the snow all around it. 'Someone must have forgotten it.' It was no strange sight to her--students left their books and bags all over campus for one reason or another; the most common cases prevalent in the mornings after a drunken fling on the weekend.
     But something else was bothering her. There was a pile of clothes, bundled in a heap by the bag. She peered down closer and blushed. Amongst the coat, hoodie, shirt, pants, socks, and shoes--were boxers. Annabelle leapt up quickly and looked around. There were a couple of people walking to and from their activities, but being as cold as it was, there were very few, and they were rushing to their destinations without glancing up. The nearest was several yards away from the girl, and could not see her out of his peripheral vision.
     She knelt carefully back down on the snow and thought 'Okay, someone could be streaking. But in the middle of winter? Not very likely. They could be drunk, but it's a bit early for that. . . Maybe it's a prank, or someone lost a bet?' On an impulse, she reached tentatively towards the shirt, hesitated, and then touched it carefully, rubbing the fabric between her fingers. It wasn't warm exactly, but it couldn't have been there for more than about five minutes because it wasn't cold yet.
     She noticed a lanyard spilling out of the crumpled pile. 'Aha! An ID. Let's just see who this all belongs to.' She told herself it was so the items could be returned to their owner, but deep down, she was just nosy. Lifting the lanyard up to pull the card out of the tangled fabric, it caught. She gently pulled at it at first, and then--impatient with curiosity--tugged hard. The clothes went flying to the side--vacating the patch of snow they had been loitering on--and the ID card was freed. She glanced briefly at the snow as she turned her eyes hungrily to the card, and did a double-take.
     There was a melting indentation in the snow and slush. Annabelle forgot the card for a moment with this new curiosity and peered closely at the spot. What she saw shocked her so much that she stumbled backwards from her crouching position and landed none-too-delicately on her backside, the cold snow making the seat of her pants wet.
     There was a tiny, naked man lying in the snow; curled up in a tight ball in an attempt to warm himself. His teeth were chattering and he was shuddering visibly.
     Without a hesitation, Annabelle gently cupped her hands under the small body. The man hardly seemed to notice; he was stiff and continued to shiver in the palms of her hands. With her thumbs, she lightly caressed his arm, back, side, and leg (though she avoided his central area out of her own embarrassment and for the sake of his dignity) in an attempt to warm him up with friction. As her skin touched him they both gave a little jump--for Annabelle, it was a very strange feeling (petting a small human) and she was also flooded with worry at how cold his small body had become. As for the man--even through the heavy fog over his thoughts--he vaguely registered that he was being held by a giant person. With her thumb on his side, Annabelle felt his heartbeat start pounding harder and his body stopped shivering as he suddenly went rigid. His eyes shot open, but he didn't move even his head to look up out of instinctual fear.
     Seeing his reaction, the girl hastily withdrew her thumbs from him, but couldn't set him back down into the freezing slush again. After a moment, the little person's heart settled down and his eyes slid half-shut as he involuntarily began shuddering again. He tucked his face under his arms and exhaled heavily.
     Annabelle stood up with resolve. 'I have to take him back to my dorm or he'll die out here.' She nearly started to walk towards her building with that thought, but she paused and turned back towards the man's clothes and book bag. 'If I leave it here, people will start wondering who it belongs to, and I don't want to draw any attention to this little guy while he's shrunken (is that what happened?). Besides, I'm sure we're going to need this. . .' So she kneeled down again, and lightly set the man on her sweatpants. She did this by lowering her cupped hands over the crease between her legs where her thighs were pressed together and gradually pulling them apart until he slid off of them. He seemed a bit startled by this, but must have realized what she was doing, because he consented to it. He actually tried to tuck himself into this crevice a little more for additional heat; it certainly wasn't as warm as the place where he had been laying on her palms.
     However, the young woman couldn't be bothered by this awkward encounter. As he was adjusting to her lap, she had already pulled his book bag closer to her and stuffed his clothing into it. Once again, she noticed the ID card, and picked it up to examine the name and picture.
     "Jeremy Aden" He was a junior at this college, majoring in Biomedical Sciences with a minor in Cell Biology and Anatomy. Annabelle studied his picture for a brief moment. He had medium-length, auburn hair and brown eyes.
     And he was unmistakably the man currently trembling in her lap.
     She shoved the ID in his bag, shouldered it, and delicately lifted the man--Jeremy--as she stood up.
     Now that he had a name, she began to see him more as a human than as a myth or dream. She put herself in his shoes (so to speak) and it dawned on her just how frightened and confused he must be.
     As she resumed her trek back to her room, Annabelle brought Jeremy closer to her lips, and whispered her warm breath onto him, "Please don't be afraid. My name is Annabelle. I'm going to get you warm again," realizing this was still vague and mysterious, she added, "I'm taking you to my dorm room."
     Suddenly, she heard the casual sloshing of wet boots shuffling up from behind her. On an impulse to hide the little man, she cupped her hands concealingly over her nose and mouth and theatrically breathed hot air into them as the student passed her. When her hands had moved she felt a little, cool torso stumble onto her lips, and the timing was just so that she inadvertently blew that hot air right onto his chest and stomach.
     Embarrassed for the both of them, she began to pull her face away, but Jeremy clung closely to this new, much more satisfying heat source without worrying about dignity--most of it was gone now anyway, and what little he had left he would gladly sacrifice for the comfort of re-achieving a necessity of survival.
     It wasn't difficult for Annabelle to surmise this from his actions, and consented to blow gentle streams of warm air into her hands as she trudged through the slush. She felt Jeremy sit down on her palm in the path of the air, as if sitting down to a campfire.
     He was safe from any lagging winter animals that may have come across him in the snow, he was warming up, and now he was out of sight. With these immediate issues temporarily dealt with, Annabelle allowed herself to think again, 'Alright, this is good; I can keep him like this until we get inside, but after that, I'm going to look pretty stupid walking around with my hands on my face all the way up to the fifth floor. I'm going to have to pocket him--' she glanced down at her sweatpants. Her pocketless sweatpants. And her coat. . . had fake pockets.
     She mentally cussed.
     Her hair was long enough that it would conceal him if he sat on her shoulder, but she didn't trust his strength to have fully returned yet, and she didn't want to take the risk of him being knocked off if someone ran into her. She could put him in the backpack, but it was full of heavy books, notebooks, and smaller items that would move around treacherously and he could get injured--or worse. And that was without even considering the oxygen supply.
     For the remainder of her journey, Annabelle wracked her mind for other ideas of sneaking him into her building. She was left with three options. The first was so inconceivably wrong that she scarcely let it come to mind before roughly rejecting it. The second was that he could ride in her shoe, but it would be difficult for him to breathe, it would smell nasty, and she would have to be extremely careful how she walked. And besides all that, it would terrify the poor man, whom she had just recently managed to calm down a little. So that was definitely out as well.
     Leaving one option.
     Despite the humiliating embarrassment of it, Annabelle had to admit to herself that it was the best option. He would be concealed, comfortable, warm, safe, and able to breathe.
     She had nearly reached the Freshmen dorms now; it was in her sight. There were a few people milling in and out of the door. She stopped ten yards away from the building, and ducked into a discrete doorway of the old sports facility. It was around the side of the building and out of view from the sidewalk. The girl looked around to make sure there was no one nearby--there wasn't--and crouched down here.
     Giving Jeremy one more burst of warm air from her mouth, she lowered her hands away from her face. Apparently, he had been sitting with his legs crossed--an exposing position for a man without clothing--and he scrambled to cover himself up. This act of shame that he had just recently recovered caused Annabelle to feel additional dread at what she was about to do. She hated to have to say the words out loud, but she owed the little man a warning.
     "Listen," she whispered to him, "I'm going to have to sneak you inside, and I don't have any pockets, so I'm going to--" she swallowed. "I'm going to have to--" she couldn't bring herself to say it. However, Jeremy's eyes grew a little wider and she could tell he was already guessing at the options she had already thought through. He didn't say anything--I'm really beginning to think he's a mute--but his face stiffened, and he just sat there, waiting for whatever was to come; because in the end, he really didn't have much choice in the matter.
     She gazed down at him regretfully, then cried softly, "I'm sorry!" before thrusting him into her bra, cushioning him underneath her breast so that his body was laying--pinned against the left cup--and his head was sticking out the end, facing up, between both breasts.
     'If I had put him flat against the front of my breast, the bump of his body would have shown through my clothes to everyone. And this way, I'm still warming him,' she justified to herself. Guiltily, she let her coat fall back closely to her chest without looking for Jeremy's reaction. No matter what it was, she was uncomfortable enough already.
     Trying to temporarily forget about the man in her shirt, Annabelle stood up and immediately was thankful for the benefit of having her hands free again. She adjusted the book bag and traveled the rest of the way into her building, trying to glide gracefully so her breasts wouldn't bounce. Upon entering the lobby area, she was startled by a familiar voice calling out to her: "ANNABELLE!" and before she could stop her, her roommate plowed into her with a straight-on hug.
     "C-C-Carol!" she sputtered, in astonishment, painfully aware of her hidden passenger, and of the other women's breasts pressing against her own. She pulled out of the embrace a bit quicker than was polite, and tried to play it off with "You scared me!"
    "I hoped I did!" the blonde winked at her. "The girls and I are going out to eat. Wanna' come with us?" she beamed and nudged Annabelle as if to say "you know you want to!"
     "I'm sorry, Carol, but. . . I still haven't written that Additional Emotions paper for Mr. Lire yet, and I could use some quiet time alone to work on it," she responded, feigning disappointment and not feeling guilty about saying it because it was true.
     "You're going to have to eat eventually. . ." she pushed, but seeing the expression on Annabelle's face made her realize that she was determined to stay. "Well. . . alright. See ya later then!" and she and a few of her friends departed.
     Annabelle figured she should have felt guilty about not going out with her friends as she got on the elevator. She wasn't, though. 'There is no WAY I was going to spend a couple of hours with a shrunken man in my bra.'
     Five more students boarded the elevator, and Annabelle was pretty well-crowded. The door slid shut and the compartment began it's gradual ascent. What happened next, Annabelle guessed was either due to Jeremy's body falling asleep or her wight being too much for him to handle--she later found out that, in actuality, Jeremy was claustrophobic, and he couldn't take it anymore--but at present, she was taken quite by surprise. She gave a small yelp, followed by a nervous giggle, as his little body began wriggling out from under her. Despite most of his body having warmed up to a healthy temperature again, his feet and hands were still cold. One of the latter brushed over her nipple as he used it as a grip to pull himself up more. This chilly attention to an extremely sensitive part of the woman caused her nipples to involuntarily stiffen and for her to do a little squirming herself. She had to bite her lip to keep herself from crying out again.
     Although she had tried to cover it up as best as she could, the compacted space and awkward silence of the elevator made it impossible for the other passengers to have missed the Freshman's peculiar behavior.
     It was with great relief that Annabelle clambered out of the elevator and onto her floor a moment later. She desperately wanted to run to her room so she could get the man out of her bra, but there were still people present and she also knew that running would be a very bad idea for the little guy. She made do with walking brusquely.
     After what felt like much too long, the girl finally made it into her dorm. She took only a moment to make sure the door was shut and locked behind her before she shed her coat and the backpack and reached into her shirt to retrieve the man. She felt him backing away from her fast-approaching fingers (perhaps out of fear that he'd be punished for grabbing her the way he had), but it was no challenge for her to lightly pinch her thumb and forefinger on his sides.
     For the first time since she had found him, Jeremy made a sound. Not an intelligible word, exactly, but a garbled cross between a soft yelp and a whimpering "No!"
     Ignoring him, Annabelle pulled him up and out of her bra, then quickly turned her eyes away so he could cover himself up. She walked him over to her desk and set him down there. A tissue box sat on the desk next to him, so she grabbed one and let it fall onto his lap where he was sitting cross-legged again, clutching his manhood modestly. He pulled the tissue up around him thankfully and gave her a silent look of gratitude.
     Annabelle could have sat in the desk chair, but this would leave her towering above the man, so she opted to kneel on the floor so she was eye-level with him instead.
     She sighed with an air of "You're not in trouble" and whispered to him, "I'm going to make some hot chocolate for us, and then we're going to figure this out, okay?"
     He listened, then nodded. His face brightened up at the suggestion of a hot drink.
     As she grabbed two mugs from the storage container under the bunked beds--no, only one mug--and prepared the drink, Annabelle let herself ponder:
     'What am I going to do now?!' This first question spawned several others, and she let them fly by without deep consideration for the moment: 'How am I going to take care of a tiny person? How long will I have to take care of him? How will I turn him back to normal size? How did he become small in the first place? How will I keep him a secret--What happens when Carol finds out?!'
     She stopped.
     She had thought "when." Was she expecting him to be discovered? Annabelle had only spent nineteen years in this world, but that was enough experience for her to understand that people very seldom get away with anything.
     After all, she lived with Carol. It was impractical to hope she could keep a secret like this away from her. Annabelle sighed quietly to herself and massaged her temples as she stared at the numbers on the microwave: "3. . .2. . .1. . .BEEP!" She opened the door and took out the mug; stirring in the chocolate powder, she decided: 'Well, I'm not going to worry about that for now. I'll keep Jeremy a secret tonight, and sleep on the decision.' She glanced over at him. He was watching her half-liddedly, with one hand on his stomach. Annabelle turned her attention to her alarm clock; it was a little after 9:00 pm already! Her stomach growled.
     "I'll get us some food, too," she decided. She set the mug down next to the tiny form on her desk so the heat could radiate over him, and dropped to the floor to dig through the snack storage again. Chips, hostess cupcakes, popcorn, crackers, beef jerky. . . She'd like to offer the little man meat to give him his strength back, but that would be impossible for him to chew. She sighed at the remaining options--shoulders slumping--and promised herself that she would do better tomorrow, taking the crackers and a paper napkin from the bin.
     Annabelle set down the napkin before Jeremy after folding it twice and crumbled up a cracker onto it. He eyed the food hungrily, licking his lips, and glanced up at her as if suspecting a trap of some sort.
     "It's alright," she assured, taking a pinch for herself and casually ingested it in his view. He edged a little closer to the crackers, eyes constantly fixed on the giantess above him--ever cautious. His hand reached over the crumbs, fingers twitching.
     She could tell her presence was making him nervous, so she softly informed him: "I'll be back in a minute." With that, she got up and knocked on the conjoined bathroom door between the suite dorms and entered, stepping up to the sink. She rifled through the drawers and cabinet for anything she could possibly give to the shrunken man to use as a cup for his hot chocolate. 'Everything must seem so huge to him,' she thought, picturing her room from Jeremy's new point of view. 'I wonder if his other senses have strengthened. Certainly, everything is louder to his miniature ears. . .' then she paused in her searching. 'He probably can smell a lot more, too.' Annabelle checked her breath guiltily. It wasn't bad, but she was paranoid now, and started brushing her teeth--as throughly as possible. She eyed her toothpaste tube boredly as she scrubbed. The cap was still off, sitting upright on the counter.
     A lightbulb blinked on in the girl's mind.
     'Of course!' It seemed so obvious now, but as one becomes accustomed to everyday items, one ceases to see them. Annabelle hurriedly finished cleaning her teeth, and tossed her brush back in its cup. The cap had some paste in it, and she ran it under a steaming stream of water from the faucet, fingering it clean. She continued until it no longer had a whiff of minty scent on it. When she was finally pleased, she crept back into her room, peeking around the bathroom door with a pause. She saw Jeremy nibbling happily at the crackers, gazing longingly at the mountainous mug beside him--wishing he had something to wash the dry crumbs down with.
     "Hey again," Annabelle spoke gently, stepping gradually towards the man so as not to surprise him. Even so, he jumped to his feet, clutching the tissue to him and dropped the remains of the crackers in his hands, wiping off his face, ashamed. He looked down at the wooden desk, as if avoiding contact with the monstrous being would make her disappear. "Hey, it's all right!" she continued kindly, and held up the toothpaste cap for him to see. "I brought you a mug, see?" she smiled, urging him to relax. The girl dipped the cap in her mug of warm coca and wiped the dripping side off on the edge of the napkin. Holding it between thumb and forefinger, she stretched her hand slowly forward with it. Jeremy eyed her warily--his eyes widening the closer she came towards him--and when it was an inch away from him, he took a step back, still distrustful.
     Annabelle was disappointed, but didn't want to push her luck to force more progress, so she set the makeshift cup down and backed off. She could tell the man was anxious to have the warm drink inside him, but he didn't go for it immediately. He fumbled with the huge tissue, trying to tie it to his waist. It was much too large and draped out behind him awkwardly. It was also fairly see-through. He grew frustrated and glared up at Annabelle who was now sipping from her mug in her desk chair, watching him curiously.
     And then Jeremy communicated with her. He held onto the tissue at his waist with his left hand, and then shooed her with the other. She blinked, astonished that the man was now acknowledging her existence. When she didn't move right away, he tried again, swatting at the air as if to say, "Go away!"
     "Uh. . ." the girl sat forward, planting her feet on the ground, ready to move, but not wanting to. Carol could be back soon, and if Annabelle heard her key at the door, she didn't want to be far from Jeremy. The little man huffed an exasperated sigh, rolling his eyes and changed his gesture to twirling his finger, indicating that she should turn around to give him privacy.
     Annabelle's face pinkened and she nodded quickly, spinning willingly in her swivel chair so her back was to him. After a second or two of silence, she could hear shuffling. She pictured the small man setting down the large, cloth-like material, folding it in half so it wouldn't droop so low. Then there was a fluffy tearing sound and more rustling as he must have tied it to his waist. She nearly turned around right then, guessing he was finished, but stopped herself. She sipped her cocoa, and waited. He would have to say something now if he wanted her attention.
     Behind her, Jeremy was indeed clothed, but he made no move to alert the giant woman. Relieved to have her all-seeing eyes away from him, he felt more free to do as he pleased. More comfortable. He looked at the hot chocolate offered. The cap was roughly the size of a small, thick pail to him, and he had to lift it with two hands. It had cooled down to a drinkable temperature, but was still hot. After the first few tentative sips, he swigged the rest down in loud glugs. It warmed him from the inside out, and for the first time since he'd found himself in this predicament, he smiled.
     Annabelle could hear the little swallows of appreciation and was desperately sick of facing her bed. But she waited, finishing off her drink.
     The little guy actually managed to slurp it all down. He put the toothpaste cap on the "floor" and rubbed his full belly contentedly. He looked at the back of the girl's gingery head expectantly. She remained as she was. He shuffled his feet, and cleared his throat. Nothing. He gruffed, much louder: "A-HEM!"
     Annabelle heard him, of course, but could tell he was close to giving in. Her mug was empty now, yet she continued to sip at it, feigning ignorance. 'You're going to have to say something.'
     Jeremy realized this. He paused for a good five seconds, and then spoke at what would be his normal volume; only a whisper to the giant girl.
     ". . . Excuse me! Uh--Annabelle?"
     Finally she allowed herself to face him again. She was delightfully surprised. She had thought--perhaps--that his voice would be high-pitched or squeaky, but it wasn't. It was only softer, as if someone had pointed a remote at him and turned the volume down. And it was a very pleasant voice. The sound of her name on his tongue set butterflies in her stomach.
     'Hey, none of THAT!' she reprimanded herself.
     She commented upon casting her eyes on him, "Oh! I see you already drank your hot chocolate," her eyes popped. "Erm. . . I'd offer you more but I sort of drank the rest. . ."
     They silently gazed at each other, the same question in both of their minds.
     'What now?'
     "I'll see what I can do about clothes for you."
     The man didn't complain so she searched the room with her eyes, imagining the items within each drawer and cabinet. What would work? Something temporary, even; just for the night until she could spend more time on it. She forced herself to remember how she thought when she discovered the solution to the miniature mug. Every item that passed under her gaze suddenly had an infinite amount of possibilities.
     Opening the desk drawer below him, the giantess pulled out a pair of enormous scissors. Jeremy nearly fell back and yelped in terror, but she was already standing up and walking over to her dresser. He stepped forward, craning his neck to see what she was doing in the distance. The girl sifted through the top drawer for a while, seemingly inspecting the items within by means of sight and touch. He watched as she pulled out a dark wad of cloth--socks?--and untangled one from the other. With a 'snip!' of the scissors, the rounded end was cut off.
     Annabelle returned and put the scissors away again. She held up the black, cloth tube for the brunette to inspect. He didn't seem very impressed, but they were both aware it was better than his tissue. So he walked up and took it from her, and she busied herself with staring at her bed again, planning for new issues. . .
     Jeremy cleared his throat once the sock was on; he had stepped into it and pulled it up to his armpits (it looked like an odd sort of tube-top dress that came down to his knees). When Annabelle faced him, the corner of her lip twitched, and his face got hot. "Hey, it's not funny!" he shouted.
     A giggle burst from her lips, and the young woman was forced to throw a hand over her mouth to stifle it.
     "I know, I know! I'm sorry!" Her eyes moved away and she took a deep breath to settle down.
     All of the hot chocolate was putting pressure in the man's lower abdomen. Aware of an unfortunate fact, he piped up, "I--uh. . ." Might as well not beat around the bush. "I need to use the restroom."
     The mirth on the girl's face immediately fell away. "Oh! Um. . . Of course." After a slight hesitation, she laid her palm out flat at his feet, offering him a ride.
     There was a longer pause. It was the first time he would willingly be picked up by a giant person. Instinct told him to stay put, back away from that hand that could destroy him with no effort at all. But his bladder insisted that he go on, and he had found no evidence to distrust this girl as of yet.
     The little guy scrambled onto Annabelle's hand with as much dignity as a man in a sock-dress could muster. She walked back to the bathroom with him, moving as gracefully as she could to jostle him as little as possible. Her blue eyes twinkled with glee as she watched the tiny creature in her hand crawl to its edge and peer over. As much of an experience as this was for her, it was nothing compared to what the whole situation was like for Jeremy.
     He was several stories high and moving with no guard rails or safety belts, oh God! If he fell from this hand--a common occurrence for, say, a cell phone--it would kill him. When the hand jolted suddenly, he clung to one of the large digits for dear life.
     Closing the door behind her, the girl suddenly felt a warm body clutching around her thumb--a little heart beating hard and fast against her skin.
     "Hey!" she whispered, "It's all right, I'm not going to let you fall!" She received a disparaging look for her efforts.
     She glanced over at the toilet, immediately deciding that wasn't the best idea. From the way Jeremy wrinkled his nose, he seemed to agree. The sink, then. She turned decisively and stepped up to the counter. "I'm sorry, but I'm afraid this is our best option." As the words left her mouth, Annabelle lowered her hand into the basin. The man sat and scooted to the edge of her palm, so he could drop down an inch. Unfortunately, the surface was still slick with water and he slipped, falling back on his bum with a surprised shout, punctuated by an "Oof!"
     "Oh, I'm sorry!" she fretted again, fingers scrambling around to help him stand back up. "Are you all right?"
     "Fine!" he grouched, pushing her fingers away testily.
     Ouch. Her fingers flinched away immediately. So much for the slight improvement between them. He stood and leered up at her large, intruding face impatiently.
     "Right, right. . . I'll just. . . be down here. . .when you need me. . ." She sunk down to the floor with her back against the cupboards below the counter. "Just shout." While she waited, eyeing both doors with paranoia, she considered, 'Despite his irritation just now, he DID just prove he was confident enough to push me without fear of backlash. Either he's becoming braver or he trusts me more. . . And he should! I mean--I don't want to hurt him or anything. I only took him to save his life! Not like I wanted to capture him. And who knows what could have happened if someone else had found him?' Annabelle shuddered to picture the various scenarios: a drunk, a sadist, a faculty member, an ex-girlfriend. . . Someone seeking a toy, a pet, revenge. . .
     "Hey!"
     Annabelle jumped and craned her neck back.
     "Oh! You're done." Shaking off the dark shadows of her imagination, the girl stood and turned the faucet on to a light trickle--"So you can wash your hands." When he'd finished and dried them off on his sock-dress, she stopped the water and offered her hand again--lower this time-and he stepped onto it. She sighed and ran her free hand back through her long, wavy hair.
     "Alright. It's been a crazy night and I've got an eight o'clock class tomorrow. Let's go to bed and figure the rest out later, 'kay?"
     Jeremy looked at her, worry creasing his tiny features. She could almost hear his thoughts: 'How long will I be stuck like this?' But he gulped and nodded.
     "Okay," she muttered in agreement. With that settled, she brought her hand close to her belly so Jeremy would have a wall to lean against and rested her thumb across his lap like the security bars of a roller coaster. Annabelle listened closely at the door for any indication of her roommate's return. She heard nothing. If she were lucky, Carol may have chosen to stay out late partying tonight.
     Once back in the dorm room, the girl set the small man on the lower bunk of the bed where she slept.
     "Wait here while I change," she instructed needlessly. Where would he go?
     Hustling to her wardrobe, she nearly tripped over Jeremy's black backpack. 'Oh, shoot! That's right!' She'd forgotten all about it. It was tossed into a drawer in her cupboard where Carol would never bother to snoop. AFter retrieving her pajamas, she closed the provided padlock on the doors, just to be sure.
     The red-haired young woman began to pull her shirt off out of habit. It was half over her head when she heard a small cough behind her back. Heat rushed to her face and she tugged it back down.
     "Oh! Er--" the flustered woman banged into the bathroom door, finding it was locked from the inside.
     "Occupied!" Lisa, one of the girls from the adjacent room, chirped.
     "Sorry!" Annabelle gasped back breathily. Oh. . . Maybe she could just wait. That idea was flushed down the drain when she heard the shower start.
     "Ohhh. . .!" she growled, obviously vexed.
     Fed up, she strutted over to the bed and lightly tossed her comforter over Jeremy.
     "Hey! What're you--?" he shouted muffledly from beneath the blanket that had knocked him on his front with it's proportionally immense weight.
     She cut him off. "No peeking!" she retorted with strict embarrassment, already throwing off her shirt and pants. He was pretty far in from the edges of the blanket, so it would take him a while to scramble out if he really wanted to see her. She watched the little lump in the bedding apprehensively as she unclasped her bra. She needn't have been so worried, for the only  movement he made was to sit up in a grudgingly patient position. Her pajamas were on in record time.
     Annabelle crept carefully back to the bed and pulled the comforter gently back.
     "I'm sorry I did that," she apologized, pink fading from her cheeks.
     Jeremy just shrugged and stood up.
     "So. . ." he strolled over the soft bedding. "Where am I going to sleep?"
     "Hm. . ." Annabelle covered her mouth with a hand thoughtfully and looked her bed over with scrutiny. "Well, I don't want my roommate to know about you yet, so. . . you'll have to be pretty close. I'd say under the bed, but we share all the storage down there and she almost always gets into the snacks for breakfast--sometimes before I even wake up. I can't risk her seeing you down there at all."
     "Then how are we supposed to do this?" he prodded.
     "I guess. . ." she sighed. "I guess you're just going to have to sleep on the bed next to me--closer to the wall; then my body will block you from Carol's vision when she's walking by on the floor."
     Jeremy stopped his pacing. He looked scared again.
     "Don't worry! I'm a really light sleeper!" she assured him. "And I'll put a pillow between us. If I try to roll over, I'll feel it and wake up enough to remember you're near and I won't move anymore. How's that?"
     He still seemed uncertain.
     "I swear. I barely move around when I'm asleep!" she added, hoping to convince him. "Here, let's set it up and then see how you feel, okay?"
     Luckily, she was one of those cuddly people who loved lots of pillows. She shoved a couple down the crack between the mattress and the wall so it was level all along the side and Jeremy couldn't fall--or--jump--down in the night. She directed him to move closer to the wall and she placed a pillow perpendicular to the one she'd be resting her head on; this cushion would act as the barrier between the two.
     "Better?"
     Jeremy nodded approvingly from where he sat against the wall on the smooshed cushions. He laid down there, seemingly deciding the further away from her, the better off he would be.
     "Ummm. . ." her lips hummed and she tapped her fingers over them nervously, afraid to bother him anymore.
     "What?" he prompted when he saw the giant woman obviously had something to say.
     "Well. . . . you can't lay there either. . ."
     He sat up and sighed exasperatedly, rolling his eyes.
     "Why not?"
     "If Carol looks over the edge to talk to me or if she drops something (that could hit you), then she would see you!"
      "Fine, fine. . ." He crawled onto the mattress so he was just out of the line of vision from the top bunk.
     Just then, there was Carol's voice at the door, saying goodbye to her friends as she unlocked it. Annabelle only had seconds before she would enter. She grabbed her nearby reading book and leapt into bed. Jeremy shouted in fear as he bounced two inches (comparatively, two feet) into the air.
     "Shh! Sorry! It's all right!" she whispered quickly under her breath and opened her book between them to shield him more.
     Not a second later, Carol was entering with a smile and a wave, seemingly oblivious to Jeremy's previous exclamation.
     She sat in her desk chair and flung her long, curly, blonde locks back over a tan shoulder, blue-green eyes flashing. "You--" she grinned teasingly, "--REALLY missed out, Belly!"
     Ugh. . . She HATED it when Carol called her that. Annabelle wasn't what you would call fat--or even chubby--but the nickname made her self-conscious, none-the-less.
     "Oh?" the redhead didn't bother to roll over or even flick her gaze over her shoulder to look at her roommate. She feigned a tone that suggested that she was very much absorbed in her book. "Is that so?"
     "Oh yeah!" Carol continued, pouncing on the invitation to talk more. She went on to prattle off every detail of the evening in Annabelle's ear, despite her obvious disinterest and continued attempts to read. When she finally finished, she asked, "So, did you finish that paper of yours while I was gone? The one about. . . Um. . . What was it?"
     "The additional emotional effect a necessity can cause." Ah, crap. Forgot about that in all the excitement. "Um. . . haven't quite finished it, per se. . ." she hedged.
     Carol laughed. "You mean you still haven't started it, don't you?!" she accused tauntingly.
     Hated when she did that, too.
     "Alright, fine! No, I didn't!" she threw a hand up in the air and nearly let her book drop before she remembered what it was there for.
     "Oooh!" Carol teased, coming closer to poke Annabelle's side. "I THOUGHT you seemed suspicious! What'd you DO all night? Have a private rendezvous with a secret BOYFRIEND?"
     She was getting too close, damn it! She was going to see Jeremy! Annabelle felt him scramble closer to the book and out of the loud girl's sight until he bumped right against her fingers.
     "NO, Carol!" she raised her voice defensively, shooting a none-too-pleased look her way. The blond was taken aback and looked a little hurt. "Carol. . . I'm sorry. I've had kind of a stressful night. And I don't want to talk about it," she added, as a precaution.
     After a pause, Carol replied, " 'Kay. You goin' to bed now?"
     "Yeah."
     "I'll plug my headphones in then." She turned off the light and climbed up the bed. It shook loudly as always and Annabelle set down her book in the dark so she could cup a hand around Jeremy until it stopped.
     Shadows cast around the room as Carol opened her laptop and plugged in her earbuds to listen to music (turned up so loud that Annabelle still heard it from the bottom bunk, though it was mercifully much quieter).
     Annabelle set her book back under her bed with a tired sigh and crawled under the covers. Despite the care she took, the tiny man stumbled and rolled backwards with the wave of blanket movements.
     "Sorry!" she whispered, knowing full-well Carol wouldn't hear her, even if she spoke at a normal volume. She marveled at how many times she'd used that word tonight.
     It was hard to make out Jeremy's minuscule face in the dark, but he seemed to be giving her an expression of exhausted forgiveness. It must have been so frustrating for him to feel just how incredibly easy it was to knock him over.
     They both shifted around until they found comfortable spots to sleep. Annabelle hugged their barrier pillow and helped him pull the sheets up to where he wanted them by holding the weight of the comforter up. Once they were both situated, Annabelle brushed her hair back and let out a long, slow sigh.
     "Goodnight," she whispered.
     Jeremy didn't reply. She peered down at him. He was rolled away from her, facing the wall, using a bent arm as a pillow.
     'I'll have to figure something out for that, too,' she thought. She wanted to sleep, but her mind kept her awake for hours into the night, buzzing away at everything she would have to do and get for Jeremy while she was in charge of him, as well as to puzzle over the mystery of how he shrunk and how to turn him back. She pondered for a while about the man himself,. She knew next to nothing about him. She wondered about his friends and family--did they know he was missing yet? She wondered about his living habits and how they'd have to adjust to hers.
     Finally, at about 3:00 am, she'd run through everything she could possibly think of for now, brain getting tired. To ease herself off the subject of Jeremy and into sleep, she forced herself to think of her essay.
     Finally, she knew what necessity she would write about:
     Warmth.