Page 129 of My Roommate from Hell
“Oh, babe, there’s so much wrong with me.”
I ignore him. “There’s only one option.”
“And that is?”
“Distance,” I say. Just saying the word making me tired and weary. “You’re the prince of Hell, I’m human, and you’re only here on exchange. Everyone would understand if we broke up because of the distance, and most importantly, neither of us will come across like a bad person.”
“I get that. But if it’s mutual, should our breakup even be in public?”
“I had the same thought, but it has to be. We want people to know as quickly as possible that we’re breaking up because of the distance. If you just post something people might think we’re lying or covering up the truth. We’re going to have to sell it, which is why we need to practice. Let’s pretend we’re on the dance floor. You come up to me.”
He takes a step closer. I nod, encouraging him to continue.
“Hey, can we talk?” he asks. His voice is slightly different, letting me know he’s acting.
“About what?” I ask, folding my arms over my chest.
“I mean somewhere private,” he pleads.
“No,” I say. “Whatever you want to say to me, you can say it here.”
“Fine!” he says. “Owen, I’m really sorry. But we have to be realistic. We’re never going to work.”
I let my face crack. Even though we’re just acting, the emotion of it is so strong I feel the sting of tears in my eyes.
“Why?”
“Oh no,” he says, his voice breaking. “You look so sad!”
“I’m trying to make it believable,” I say. “I’m fine. Go on, keep going.”
“I know it’s hard,” he says. “But I’m going back to Hell. This won’t work.”
I glare at him. “That’s your choice, don’t use it as an excuse. If you want to leave, leave. But don’t hide behind it.”
“Wait,” he says. “Do you really think that?”
“You’re really not getting the point of this exercise.”
“No, just, that seemed genuine. Do you think I want to go?”
“Are you asking me that, or are we still acting?”
“I’m asking,” he says.
“I mean. I don’t know.”
“Huh,” he says. “A part of me thought you’d be relieved when I left. No more pretending, no more unexpected horrors.”
Is he serious? I spend so much time worrying if what I think is obvious, but maybe that’s not the case.
“The horrors I could live without,” I say. “But I like being your roommate. And we’d still need to figure out what we’re doing with the fake-dating thing, because we can’t keep doing that.”
“Right,” he says.
“But yeah, I’d like it if you stayed.”
They feel like the scariest words that I have ever said. I’m not pretending at all, it’s the pure truth.
