Page 111 of My Roommate from Hell
He comes inside and kicks off his sneakers. The smile he gives me brings another huge spike of endorphins. Again, it’s a possibly normal post-make-out response, no cause for alarm just yet.
“Hey,” he says.
“Hey.”
“What are you doing?”
“Essay on databases.”
“Hot.”
He sits down at his desk so he’s facing away from me. On any other day, this would be perfectly ordinary. He would work on anassessment or, truth be told, he’d probably be playing a video game or reading in bed.
Today isn’t normal, though. We made out last night.
“Owen,” says Zarmenus. He’s still looking away from me. I keep my focus locked onto my computer.
“Yes?”
“What are you thinking about?”
I chew my bottom lip. “Nothing.”
“I can practically hear your thoughts.”
Something jabs into my back. He’s poked me with his foot. I spin around in my chair.
“Is this about last night?” he asks. “Talk to me.”
A part of me is incredibly relieved. I was already imagining what it would be like if we weren’t able to speak about what happened last night. I’m not sure how well I would handle having to repress and pretend as if kisses like that happen to me all the time.
“Did you not like it?” he asks, his voice painfully sincere. “You can tell me.”
“No!” I say, immediately regretting my enthusiasm. “It was amazing, you’re great, no complaints.”
I remember him kissing my neck. “Great” simply doesn’t do it justice. He can’t know this, but that was easily in the top five best moments of my life.
“Then why are you stewing?” he asks.
“I’m not stewing!”
He gives me a blank look, and I deserve it.
“I guess I wasn’t expecting us to do that,” I say. “Were you?”
He shrugs. “I thought it would be fun. Walk me through what you’re feeling.”
“I just. I feel like this makes things complicated and messy.”
“How so?”
“I’m not really a hookup type of guy.”
Or am I? The thought does hold some appeal, but there’s always been something holding me back. I would never judge anyone forwanting to be as active as they wanted to be when it comes to hooking up. It’s just never seemed like the type of thing I would do. I’m too much of an overthinker.
“Oh,” he says. “Right. I’m sorry, we should’ve talked about this more last night.”
Even though I know I’m being myself, I find it kind of annoying that I’m saying these things. Why am I playing this part if I don’t even like it? I know what I should say, and the right course of action. But there’s this new part of me that wants to throw caution completely out the window and tell Zarmenus that whole, terrifying truth, which is that kissing him was amazing, and even though I don’t have a pinpoint on exactly what it means, I want to do it again. But what if he doesn’t feel the same way? The thought of sharing a room with him, of spending the entire rest of the semester together pretending to be boyfriends? I’d honestly rather come face-to-face with an eldritch horror.
