Roomie, Where Art Thou?: Part - III

Night turned to morn sooner than anyone had expected. Julianne had fallen asleep while the guys were still talking about how Kumar's new camera could get 15 times closer to its subject without him having to move an inch. She'd just about managed not to fall asleep while they (read Matt!) talked about his music collection. Of course, most of it was courtesy the internet. All right, all right - Kumar had to help her in the ordeal she'd made it look. That of course meant, Kumar was no longer helping when they started talking about his camera, cause he was too busy showing it off!
"She's a great girl! Funny, classy, intelligent, you name it. She is definitely my type!!"
"Who're you referring to, Ku?"
"Ana."
"Anna?"
"Ana. Ana Dawson."
"Yeah, right. Your type. Hah!"
"What is that suppose to mean?"
"A Cut Above!"
"That is some cheap cigarette brand back home, you dimwit!"
"Cheap? You get cigarettes cheap back home? Really??"
"Oh! Shut Up!!!"
"Relax, Kumar! Thats not becoming you. You're atop all this, remember?"
"Atop? Well, I'd really appreciate if I were on top of her right now!"
"Excuse Moi?". Julie was harshly woken up by the furious hand movements (and furious table-banging) that Kumar had resorted to, to emphasize the 'right now!'
"French dreams, eh?", winked Matt
"You stay out of this. And why would you care?", sneered Julie
Matt left without a word. Nothing much was said after he left. It was like a 10 week vacation coming to an abrupt end.
"Whats the matter? Anybody dead that we know?", said Matt cheerfully as soon as he got back.
"Where had you gone, man?"
"To the loo, you looby!"
"Hah Hah Hah! And here we were thinking you had taken offense at Julie's outburst!"
"I'm sorry, I snapped at you. Didn't mean to."
"I know what you meant. Its ok. I suppose it was a French nightmare, huh?", winked Matt
Julie couldn't help but fall in love all over again. It was one of the things she admired about Matt the most. His you-don't-hurt-me-try-as-you-might attitude.
"You're ok, man?"
"Ana..........!!!", he sighed. For the fourteenth time in five minutes.
"Dawson?", asked Julie with some concern. And genuine too.
"What now, honey?", half expecting a biography on the life and times of Miss. Ana Dawson.
"I hate that bitch!", she blurted out in an accent that no one would've associated with her. But such is life. Unpredictable.