Page 85 of My Roommate from Hell
“Rumors are a tricky thing, and can be persistent once they take hold. Please try to squash them, if you can. I can’t give my recommendation if the world decides you two are pretending.”
“I’ll try my best,” I say.
Once I’m outside, I let the relief and excitement take over. I am going to meet someone who works at Google! Zarmenus and I aren’t going to screw this up. That means if she likes me, my future will be set. I just need to stay the course, and not let anything throw me off my game.
As complicated as this fake-dating thing has been, right now I’m sure of one thing.
For this, it’s all worth it.
Zarmenus just posted a thirst trap.
He posted it seconds ago. I’m in bed, scrolling on my phone, waiting for him to get out of the bathroom so I can use it. I thought he was getting ready, because he’s going to a party tonight, but I guess he was taking shirtless mirror selfies instead. I refreshed my feed, and then a shirtless Zarmenus picture filled my phone screen like a jump scare.
It’s a hot picture. Is it slightly obnoxious? Maybe. But there’s no denying how good he looks. He’s smiling, and clearly tensing as you can see every defined ridge of his six-pack. The comments are already flooding in, telling him how hot he is.
I wonder if I’d care about those comments if we were really boyfriends. Not that I even need to think about this, because Zarmenus and I are never going to be real boyfriends.
I zoom in on the picture. Just as I’m wondering if it’s demon magic that’s given him abs like that, the bathroom door swings open and Zarmenus steps out. His hair is wet, and his shirt is only half on. He pulls it down and kicks the door shut behind him.
I react too quickly and I accidentally like his post. I hope it’ll get lost in the sea of likes his thirst traps always get.
“What are you doing?” he asks, his eyes narrowing.
“Reading the news.”
I’m such a bad liar. It’s obvious I’m guilty as sin.
“Oh hey,” says Zarmenus. He’s looking at his phone. “You liked my post.” He comes up to my bed and rests his head on the railing. “You never like my posts.”
“A boyfriend should always like their partner’s thirst traps, that’s, like, Gay one-oh-one.”
His face drops. “Is that the only reason you liked it?”
“Why else would I?”
He staggers back and clutches his chest like he’s been shot. “My pride, it hurts.”
“Sorry,” I say.
He recovers, dropping his wounded act. “I was thinking. Would you like to come with me tonight?”
I choke back a laugh. Then I notice he isn’t joking.
I mean. I don’t know that much about the parties Zarmenus goes to. I’ve only seen them through posts on his social media, and let’s just say they’re a far cry from the Gaymer nights. They’re always big, elaborate house parties filled with frat bros.
But he came to my thing, even though it was out of his comfortzone. It’s only fair I do the same for him. Plus, people might get suspicious if I never go to any of his events. The internship is so close now I can taste it, and I’ll do whatever it takes to get it.
“You don’t have to,” he says. “It was just an idea.”
“No, that sounds good,” I say. “Count me in.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Whoever owns this house is so wealthy they might as well be from Hell, in that they’re from a totally different world from what I’m used to.
The house is massive, its sleek modern lines standing out against the night sky. I’m not even sure calling this a house does it justice. It’s a mansion.
“If you like this,” says Zarmenus, “you should see my place in Hell. It’s way better.”
