Page 9 of Playing Rough

I nod, hoping they drop the conversation. In truth, I still haven't told Tris or Eli that FallingDown is a guy or that I only talk to him online. It just never came up, and my private conversations feel too personal to share. But his identity isn’t the issue. What matters is how our messages are an escape, one I desperately need from the chaos of my real life.

As I walk home later, pleasantly buzzed, but the frustration lingering, I make a decision. I'm messaging FallingDown tonight to vent. He always knows how to talk me down or offer a fresh perspective. And fuck knows I could use some of his chill right now.

Me: You ever want to just scream at the top of your lungs because everything around you is so goddamn frustrating?

FallingDown: Sounds like you've got some intense things brewing, man. Wanna tell me about it?

Even through text, FD's tone relaxes me, like a soothing balm on my frayed nerves. I sink onto my bed and start typing, thoughts flowing freely in a way I can never quite voice out loud.

Me: It's my new roommate. Total tool who's made it his life's mission to torment me since the day we met. Now we're trapped together because of a stupid administrative screw up, and he's driving me up the fucking wall.

Me: He leaves his shit everywhere and blasts his trashy music at all hours. I'm losing my mind here.

FallingDown: That really sucks. I'm sorry you're dealing with that BS. Sounds a lot like some shit I’m dealing with, tbh. Are you able to request a transfer or new room assignment?

Me: I tried, but housing claims there's nothing open. So I'm stuck with this smug bastard all up in my space.

FallingDown: Man, that's so frustrating. I feel your pain. Literally. Wish I could offer more than just listening. But for what it's worth, try not to let him get in your head too much. That’s what I’m doing. Don't give him that satisfaction, you know? Focus on your own routine and goals, and tune out his antics as much as possible. I know that's easier said than done, but you've got this.

His calm words penetrate the angry haze clouding my mind. FD's right—as infuriating as London is, letting him ruin my focus or confidence will only make this situation worse.

Me: Thanks, FD. You're right, I can't control him, but I can control how I react. It just drives me crazy feeling so on edge all the time with zero escape, you know? But I need to not let him distract me. Easier said than done, but I appreciate the reminder.

FallingDown: Anytime, man. And my DMs are always open if you need to vent. Don't let the haters dull your shine.

FD's faith in me injects a bolstering warmth into my veins. With his support backing me, I feel like I can withstand whatever petty torments or chaos London wants to stir up. FD sees the best in me, even when I lose sight of it amidst the bullshit.

Me: Thanks, really. Just talking helps more than you know.

Over the next week, I throw myself into practices and workouts with renewed focus, using the adrenaline and endorphins as an outlet for my frustrations. When I walk through the apartment door each evening totally fucking wrecked, London's chaos doesn't get under my skin quite so much.

I still avoid him as much as our shared space allows, but the sharp barbs we occasionally trade lack some of their usual heat. A sort of uneasy truce forms as we settle into tense cohabitation.

But the hostility simmers under the surface, threatening to boil over at the slightest provocation. Like when I find my protein powder emptied and replaced with powdered sugar. Or come back from class to find the Wi-Fi password changed toRiotSucks1234.

My snide remarks about freeloaders seem to roll off London's back, only encouraging him more. And my glares when I confiscate his game consoles and lock them in my room prompt nothing but an infuriating wink.

"If that's the game you wanna play, roomie, I'm just getting warmed up.”

The final straw comes after a grueling road trip. I unlock the apartment door, longing for the comfort of my own bed after a weekend crammed onto the team bus and a never-ending meeting with coach and Deck going over film. We won but I’m exhausted, and the only thing I want is to collapse and not move for an entire day before I have to go to class.

Instead, I'm met by pulsing music and loud-ass voices. I round the corner to find London and several teammates strewn across my living room, beer cans and takeout containers littering every surface. They're playing video games at a deafening volume, whooping and taunting each other like a bunch of hormonal sixteen-year-olds.

Fury surges through me, white hot. The utter disrespect and invasion of my space makes something inside me snap.

"What the hell is going on here?" My voice slices through the noise like a blade.

London glances over with a smug grin. "Oh hey roomie, join the party."

"You mean the party you decided to have in my apartment without asking?" I spit through gritted

teeth. "Everyone out. Now."

“I think you meanourapartment.”

The others look between us warily, too buzzed to pick a side. Sensing the oncoming explosion, they start collecting their things. I stare London down as our teammates shuffle out, tension coiling the air.

"You just couldn't help yourself, could you?" I step closer, blood boiling. "Had to push things too far. Are boundaries a foreign concept to you?"

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