Page 88 of My Roommate from Hell
“I still can’t believe they killed him,” says one of the guys, his voice overly animated. “They chopped his head off!”
“Yeah, years ago,” says one girl. “When everyone else watched it.”
“I’m sorry I’m just catching up now.”
The guy takes a moment in the middle of his story to notice me. He pauses. From the way he’s swaying and the Solo cup in his hand, I would guess he’s already drunk. “Wait, who are you?”
Suddenly the whole group turns to face me.
“I’m Owen.” My voice shakes a little, which I hate. “Zarmenus’s ro—I mean, boyfriend.”
“I’m just messing with you,” he says, laughing at himself. “We know, Zar never shuts up about you.”
Zarmenus puts his arm around me. “Owen, this is Christoph, Annika, Tzuen, and David.”
“Z’s said so many nice things about you we didn’t think you could be real,” explains Annika.
“Truly,” chimes Tzuen. “If you’re anything like he described, you’d have to be perfect.”
“Guys,” says Zarmenus. “Stop embarrassing me in front of my amazing, funny, hot, and smart boyfriend.”
The group laughs. The compliments are so nice. I just wish they were truly coming from Zarmenus, not as part of our act.
“So, Owen,” says Tzuen. “We know what he likes about you, but what do you like about him?”
The room goes quiet. I like a lot about Zarmenus. I really do. But put under pressure like this, I find my mind going blank.
“He’s really sweet,” I say, practically blurting it out. “And he’s funny, too.”
Zarmenus clears his throat. “Please tell them you think I’m hot.”
“Oh, and he’s hot,” I say. “So hot. Have you seen his arms, they’re like…”
I mime my head exploding.
Adam approaches the group. “Owen, could we have a word in private?”
I squeeze my cup, and glance to Zarmenus to try to figure out what’s going on.
“Go,” says Zarmenus. “I’ll be fine.”
“Er, sure,” I say to Adam.
We go outside, to a set of empty deck chairs by the pool. The music is louder out here. Through the glass windows I notice Zarmenus watching me.
“So,” says Adam. “Owen. If there’s one thing you should know about me, it’s that my father taught me how to sniff out liars.”
“Okay?”
“He told me the world is full of snakes and the only way to get ahead is to learn how to identify them.”
“Or to have a massive trust fund,” I say, because I can’t help myself.
He laughs darkly, then leans back on his seat, studying me for a moment. “What’s really going on with you and Z?”
“What do you mean?”
He moves closer, close enough that I can tell he’s wearing too much cologne. “Are you seriously telling me that the prince of Hell went from being a party boy, the likes of whom I’ve never seen, to someone out of a rom-com practically overnight? For you? I’m sorry, but I’m not buying it.”
