Page 17 of The Devil Takes

Tommy just shook his head at me, but he didn’t push again as he shoved open our bedroom door, waited for me to enter, then flopped down on his bed with a dramatic sigh.

“Terminator?” he offered hopefully, even though he’d already watched it without me, his dark hair flopping all over before he pushed it back out of the way.

I thought about my index cards and the fact that I’d only gone through half of them.

But then Tommy gave me his puppy dog eyes, and I sighed, already calculating how late I’d have to stay up to catch up while he slept. “Okay, but you’re gonna get the popcorn.”

Maybe if I was tired enough, I could stop searching for Haden in my sleep.

“You already have snacks,” he pointed out.

“I’m not sharing.” I guarded my full hoodie pocket, eyes narrowed.

Kids who grew up with everything didn’t understand what it was like to hunt for scraps in the back of barren cupboards. So no. I wasn’t going to share. He could buy his own fucking Cheez-Its.

“Fine, fine. Be stingy.” Tommy obviously didn’t care that much because he just grinned at me as he hopped to his feet again and fled toward the bedroom door. “I’ll be back in a jiffy.”

“Sure.”

The door shut with an audible click and I sighed, scrubbing my hands up over my face as I glared around our familiar room. Tommy’s side was covered in Clueless and Cary Grant posters. All his toiletries and his spa kit were stacked together neatly in rows inside a cabinet he’d brought from home when he moved in. I’d miss this place when I was gone. Miss him too, even though he plagued me with the scent of acetone three days a week. Acetone just so happened to be one of the scents I could still fucking smell, lucky me.

But I’d miss that too. This room had been my first home away from home. My ratty old blanket was folded neatly across my bed, the same pillowcase I’d had since I was ten and obsessed with Toy Story decorating my decade-old pillow. Mom had bought it for me at Target for my birthday and every time I looked at Woody’s happy stupid face, it made me smile.

Everything I’d contributed to the room was covered in holes. Hand-me-downs. Keepsakes. Precious.

Tommy’s side of the room, however, was all new shiny things that came in plastic wrap and had a price tag long enough that if I tried to read it my eyes would cross.

We were so different and yet somehow, worked so well.

I’d miss him so much when I was gone. I knew realistically we could still be friends. But it would take more effort on his end, and honestly, I wasn’t sure I was worth that. Hell, no one else had made the effort before.

The thought unsettled me, so I shoved it away, staring at my bed as the tease of what I hid beneath it came to mind.

I wanted to get Haden’s jacket out again, to search for comfort in his scent like I’d been shamefully allowing myself to do all week, but I forced myself to sit on my hands instead, my soda a heavy lump in my pocket. I didn’t have time. Tommy would be back soon. I’d barely gotten out of the last conversation with Tommy unscathed, the last thing I needed was more scrutiny.

Plus, I didn’t want to share Haden, whatever small bits of him I still had.

Despite this, I missed his scent all the same.

Even when Tommy returned with a giant bin of buttered popcorn and a hopeful skip in his step, I missed him.

Haden’s jacket sat under the bed, mocking me.

Soothing me.

Taunting me with something I could never have.

I didn’t make friends. Couldn’t, really. I’d always been shit at small talk, and as much as I’d craved companionship, I hadn’t wanted to subject anyone else to my family. So that was why at first it hadn’t occurred to me that Tommy and I could ever be anything at all other than roommates. It wasn’t how I was wired. Growing up as I had, surrounded by my dad and his friends, my brothers and theirs, there hadn’t been an opportunity to meet someone like Tommy before.

It had been my first day on campus. Flowers were popping through their beds and birds flitted from branch to leafy-green branch as our group headed toward the science building. We’d been touring campus all morning, working our way south in a gaggle of freshmen, and I’d heard a noise behind me before turning to investigate. That’s when I saw him.

Tommy was laughing in the center of a squad of people of all shapes and sizes—though he hadn’t been Tommy to me then—just a brunet omega with a pointy chin and purple Doc Martins. His head was tossed back, his green eyes crinkled. The others flocked around him, soaking up his laughter and I just stared and stared at him. Because he was everything I would never be, walking around like he didn’t realize how lucky he was.

Lithe, beautiful, loud, and free.

I should’ve hated him.

But I didn’t.

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