Page 114 of My Roommate from Hell
We speed away from the campus, and onto the highway that leads into the city. The driver speeds up, and it’s obvious this car could go way faster if it needed to. Synth music is playing over the speakers, and I marvel that yet again Zarmenus has let me step into the kind of world that I never thought I would be a part of. No matter how it ends, I already know I’ll never regret sharing a room with him.
Zarmenus has gone pale, and his shoulders are hunched forward.
“I hate asking my parents for things,” he says. “And I hate that it stresses me out this much.”
“Look at it this way. They want you to fulfill the prophecy, right? In that case, why wouldn’t they want you to stay?”
“Because it’s not part of the plan. I’m supposed to spend onesemester here, then finish my studies in Hell. Then I’m supposed to come back and fall in love with one of the biggest stars on the planet and live happily ever after. It’s all written out—the only thing for me to do is live it.”
“But you’re the prophesied one, right?”
“I am.”
“So why are they in control of everything? I would’ve thought you would be the one making these decisions.”
He looks at me for a long moment. “You’re right.”
“I know,” I say.
“What do you think?” he asks. “Should I stay?”
Is he seriously asking me? If he only knew just how badly I want that.
“You can tell me how you really feel,” he says.
“I’d want you to stay. I mean, you’ve made these few months the most fun of my entire life. Of course I’d want you to stay.”
“They’ve been the most fun of mine, too.”
As we drive over a bridge, I look out the window up at the night sky. The sun has fully set, so it’s a deep shade of purple-black. He might be right, maybe I do doubt that I can achieve everything I want. It probably comes back to my parents, because I’ve seen through them how things can play out. You can try your best, and bad things can still happen. Your coffee shop, or any other dream, can fail for no clear reason and it can trap you in a place you don’t like being. Having high expectations always feels like a recipe for failure. It’s better to be surprised by good things rather than expect them, so you’re not devastated when they don’t happen.
The drive passes quickly, and the car pulls up in front of a restaurant called Étoile Bleue. I can tell just by looking at the exterior of the building, sleek and modern with a dark, minimalistic aesthetic, that this is the fanciest place I’ve ever been.
I’ve only been to one really nice restaurant, one I went to with my parents on my fifteenth birthday. That place barely holds a candle to this. The exterior walls are black, and the sign is barely readable. Ifyou didn’t know it was here, you’d easily miss it. It makes me think it’s the kind of place that stays open purely through word of mouth and reputation.
Zarmenus gets out of the car. I take one last look over the vehicle that drove us. Do I want to own a car like this one day? It seems impractical, but maybe.
I smooth down my shirt. Distantly, I’m worried I’m underdressed, but that anxiety is squashed by curiosity and anticipation. As long as I don’t give our secret away, I’m going to really enjoy this.
Inside, it’s toasty and warm, the ambience soft and golden. There are only a small handful of tables, each taken by people who all scream wealth. Even though Zarmenus is dressed far more casually than I am, he seems right at home.
“You alright?” he asks.
“Do I look okay?”
“You look amazing.” He moves closer and puts his hand on my lower back to guide me forward. He’s done it a few times since we started fake dating, but I wouldn’t say that I’m used to how it makes me feel. “Come on, they’re in the back.”
We go down a small, dark hallway, and, in a room completely to themselves, are Zarmenus’s parents. This room is even more opulent than the rest of the restaurant. A crystal chandelier hangs above the beautifully decorated dining table, which has a floral centerpiece designed to look like flames. The walls are covered in dark green and black–patterned wallpaper.
Both are in their human form. Maleilius is in a dark suit, and Lysteria is in a ballgown the color of blood. Nestled in her slicked-back hair is a tiara studded with rubies.
They both notice us, and Maleilius shoots to his feet so quickly he knocks over a glass of water, which he scrambles to pick up.
“Sorry,” he says as he offers me his hand. We shake, as Lysteria gets to her feet and gives me a cold hug. Her perfume smells like dark roses and honey, and my first thought is that this scent is lethal. As she pulls away, I notice there is something wrong with the walls in the room. They’re somehow taller than they used to be, as if theceiling has been raised by a few inches since I walked in. It makes the paintings look stretched out, elongated to unnatural proportions.
“Dark tidings to you,” says Maleilius. “I take it the drive was unpleasant?”
“I know you know you’re saying that wrong,” says Zarmenus.
