Page 29 of My Roommate from Hell
His next swing is harder, but I stop that one as well. I mean, if he’s going to try to beat me, I’m not going to lose on purpose. I take a few swings at him until I start to get out of breath. I really should exercise more. He hits me in the side, not hard enough to make me fall, but it throws me off balance. I try to regain my balance, but end up falling. I quickly climb back on. I know from the match I saw before that the matches are best out of three.
“You okay?” he asks.
“Yeah, you?”
The whistle blows, and I decide to go on the attack right away. I catch Tyrell off guard and manage to knock him off within three strikes. I won’t lie, it’s pretty satisfying.
This is it, the last match. He attacks me first this time, and I try to focus on blocking. When I get the chance, I strike his left side, which nearly wins me the match, but he recovers and lashes out. The strike sends me flying off the platform. I land on my back and look up at the night sky. Losing is less satisfying, but this was fun.
“Owen?”
Tyrell jumped off his platform and has now come into my field of vision. He offers me his hand and pulls me to my feet.
“That was a close one,” he says.
“Yeah.”
We leave the inflatable arena, and hand back our helmets and weapons. As I’m putting my shoes back on, Tyrell walks away to approach his friends, and for a second I feel an intense and crushing sense of missed opportunity. That whole match I was thinking that maybe, just maybe, this could be the start of something amazing. But it seems I was wrong. I’m right back where I started. Which is fine, truly. I’ll just have to keep trying.
Tyrell leaves his friends and jogs back up to me.
“Hey, no pressure or anything, but my friends and I are about to get some tacos.” He clicks his fingers, looking just as awkward as I felt when I was talking to strangers earlier tonight. “Any chance you’d like to join?”
A warm, fuzzy glow spreads out across my body.
As friendship origin stories go, this one isn’t bad.
It’s actually pretty great.
CHAPTER TWELVE
A thump pulls me from my dream.
It takes me a few moments to come to my senses. I was just pulled from a dream that involved Tyrell, Ashley, and Zarmenus all hanging out in my old high school cafeteria. What was that sound? Through the darkness I see two entangled shapes enter our room. They both pause to take their shirts off, then they crash back together.
This can’t be happening. I have to still be dreaming. Not that this would be a dream, it would be a nightmare.
“You’re so hot,” says the unfamiliar male voice between breathless, and loud, kisses. I slam my eyes shut. Zarmenus has brought another guy back here. His first hookup wasn’t a onetime thing, it’s now officially happened twice, and, more worryingly, this could be the start of a horrible pattern. Is this what living with him is going to be like?
Ugh. And this night was going so well, too. I had dinner with Tyrell and his friends, who all seemed really nice, and the night ended with Tyrell adding me to his social media. We covered all the basics: Tyrell’s a journalism major—a major he picked because he wants to challenge and expose powerful people who would prefer to keep their secrets—lives in Clayton Hall, is the youngest of threesiblings, and has a long-distance boyfriend he loves very much even if he is scared about finding long distance difficult. I went to bed more hopeful and excited about my Point social life than ever, with the added bonus of feeling proud that I did something hard and it paid off.
And now, the ultimate mood ruiner.
“Do you like that?” asks Zarmenus. From the noises being inflicted upon me, I would guess he’s referring to kissing mystery boy’s neck.
“Don’t stop,” says the guy.
I nearly gag.
Is it wrong that I’m having such a strong reaction to this? I might be, but this would annoy anyone, surely. I’m not, as some people sometimes think, a prude. I’m not upset that Zarmenus is hooking up with random guys. I’m mad that he’s doing it here, in the accursed bunk bed that he just had to have. The two reach the bed and drop down onto it, making the whole frame shake.
I roll over and put my pillow over my head. It barely muffles the wet kissing sound. They’re going at it, and it’s moving our bedframe so much that they have to know I’m awake, they just don’t care.
For a second I consider if I’m actually in Hell and I just didn’t know it until now. Is this Hell?
It sure feels like it.
The door slamming shut wakes me up.
