Page 175 of Red Zone
They’d accuse him of using me. Paint him as a charity case. Say we were manipulating his story for pity points, sympathy headlines, better endorsements.
And God…he’d hate that.
He’d hate himself for that.
He doesn’t want to be seen that way. Not ever.
He’s worked too damn hard to get here on his own.
And if I let this thing between us keep growing—if it blows up—he’ll take the fall for it. Even if it’s my fault too.
I rest my forehead on my knees, closing my eyes.
And then there’s the question I can’t stop asking myself, even when I try to bury it.
Does he even see me…the way I see him?
Does he see this as together-together?
Does he even picture a future—with me still in it?
Or am I just here right now because it’s easy?
Because he’s lonely?
Because I’m convenient?
The thought guts me.
I know better than anyone what happens when people stop choosing you.
When they wake up one morning and realize you were just something to fill the space until they found better.
One or both of us is going to end up burned.
I just can’t tell if walking away now would hurt more…or less…than staying.
The faucet drips. The eucalyptus scent clings to my skin. The steam curls higher, soft and suffocating all at once.
And I sit there in the water, knees pulled tight to my chest, trying to figure out what the hell my next move should be.
By Wednesday morning, the coffee shop is already full of bleary-eyed students mingled with the smell of espresso.
Winter midterms always bring the worst out in everyone—half the tables are covered in open laptops and highlighters, the other half in crumpled napkins and abandoned cups.
I claim my usual corner seat by the window and pull out my planner.
Two exams today, another one Friday morning, and three more deadlines next week. My page is a mess of checkmarks and sticky notes.
I glance toward the door out of habit, but of course…no Madison.
She’s been scarce lately.
I tell myself it’s just midterms keeping her busy too, but deep down, I know that’s not it.
I miss her.
Not just because she’s my roommate, not just because she knows how I like my tea and keeps me from overstudying. But because…I don’t know how to talk about everything I’m feeling without her.
