Chapter Eight
“What about your roommate?”
I slowly open my eyes, and it takes me a second to realize I’m not in my bedroom at home; I’m in my dorm, because I moved out yesterday.
A dorm I share with Zarmenus, the prince of Hell, who seems to have finally come home from the party he went to earlier.
Given how dark the room is, it’s clearly well into the night, and Zarmenus has finally returned.
Only he’s not alone. I can tell by the other voice the person he’s brought back is a guy. It’s late, probably around two in the morning. Why did he bring a random guy back here?
Then it clicks, with dawning horror.
Oh no.
“I think he’s asleep,” says Zarmenus. He’s lowered his voice to a whisper, but he’s not exactly quiet. “Don’t worry about him.”
There’s a thumping sound, and for a moment I’m worried the two are fighting. My eyes adjust to the darkness just enough for me to realize what’s happening.
They’re making out.
I slam my eyes shut. Asleep. I am meant to be asleep. But oh God, are they about to have sex? Am I going to have to pretend to be asleep while they have sex? Am I going to hear them?
I’ve seen make-outs before, mostly at parties, and they always seemed messy.
This feels different, even if I am only a totally unwilling semi-witness.
They are going at each other with a kind of animal-like ferocity.
It’s as if they simply can’t contain themselves.
And they’re so. Freaking. Loud. It’s like they’re not even trying to keep this a secret.
I hear mattress springs squeak.
“Yeah, keep doing that.”
“With pleasure.”
I wish I had the ability to magically transport myself somewhere, anywhere, else.
Suddenly the room goes quiet.
“You sure this is okay?” asks Zarmenus’s date. “I’m pretty sure your roommate is awake.”
How does he know? I haven’t moved, I haven’t opened my eyes. How does one act when they’re supposed to be asleep? Should I fake snore? It might be worth a shot, but at the same time I have never been a good actor, and trying my luck now seems risky as hell.
“Owen?” asks Zarmenus. “You awake, buddy?”
I am not answering. Nothing could ever make me.
“See?” says Zarmenus. “He’s asleep, it’s fine.”
Clearly Zarmenus’s hotness is enough to destroy any worries about my presence, as they return to their make-out session. I hadn’t realized that kissing could be so loud. It’s a wet, lip-smacking sound that isn’t all that hot given the context.
For them, I’m sure it’s amazing.
For me, less so.
I’m glad he’s having a good time. I really am.
This is still torture.
I try everything I can think of to fall asleep.
I still don’t want to say anything to disturb them because it’s not like I’m shaming them for hooking up or anything.
I’m sex positive; I think it’s great. People should have as much sex as they want and not be judged for it.
I just don’t want to be here when two other people are doing it.
At least the pair don’t seem to be going any further than making out.
Time passes to a slow crawl, the seconds feeling like minutes. Finally, after what feels like an hour, the sounds stop.
“I should go,” says mystery guy. “It’s late. Will I see you again?”
“If you want.”
“Um, you’re the best kisser I’ve ever met. Of course I want to see you again.”
“I’m glad you enjoyed yourself.”
They kiss again, then the guy climbs off the bed. I hear a rustle of clothes being pulled on.
“Bye,” he says.
“Bye.”
It’s actually pretty cute. Do I want things between Zarmenus and this random guy to wind up together?
Maybe? It’s possible they’ll become boyfriends.
No matter what happens, I’m totally taking this secret of their first make-out to my grave, though.
They will never, ever know that I was awake for this.
A few moments later, Zarmenus starts to snore.
It’s almost as loud as the make-out.
“Morning!”
I open my eyes and am hit with a ray of sunshine.
I can’t believe I actually got sleep last night, and from the looks of how bright it is, I managed to get a few hours.
Between the make-out and then Zarmenus’s snoring, which somehow got louder and louder as the night went on, I thought I’d never fall properly asleep.
It seems as if I did. Even if it was only a few hours, I’ll take it.
Yes, the make-out could’ve been avoided, but he can’t control the snoring, and there are things I can do to mitigate that. I can buy earplugs. I know Mom uses them because Dad snores like a freaking truck.
The first thing I need to do this morning is to buy some, as well as some more anti-allergy meds, as I can already feel my nose start to itch.
I retrieve the packet Mom gave me, which is nearly empty.
I pop one of the pills out and swallow. It still doesn’t make total sense to me why my allergies have been acting up.
I had a few days here with Mom before I moved in, and I didn’t feel this way.
There are two explanations I can think of. Either there is some weird plant I’m allergic to that grows on campus, or I’m allergic to demons.
“Morning,” I say. I notice he is holding two coffee cups. He offers one to me with a grin.
“For you,” he says.
“Thank you,” I say as I take the coffee. “This is so nice, thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
It really is so nice. It makes me forgive him for last night. Yes, it was annoying, but I’m sure it was a onetime thing. And hey, it’s college. People hook up.
I take a sip, and I recognize the flavor. It’s a matcha latte, and it’s just as nice as the one I had yesterday. I take another sip, enjoying how sweet it is.
I check the time, and I’ve slept in: it’s already 8:50.
I get out of bed and try to ignore Zarmenus’s side of the room.
While mine is neat and clean, his is starting to get messy.
There are clothes on the floor, he still hasn’t cleaned up the Doritos he spilled, and he’s left the empty chip packet on his desk, along with a variety of candy wrappers and empty energy drink cans.
He sits at his desk chair and boots up his game. A few moments later, the sound of gunfire and repetitive video game music fills the room.
I go into the bathroom. I shower, then wrap a towel around my waist and start brushing my teeth.
As I floss, the hairs on the back of my neck rise as cold air brushes against my skin.
I turn around as quickly as I can, and the feeling disappears.
The memory of it remains. Even though there’s nobody else in the bathroom, it seriously felt as if there had been a person right behind me, breathing on my neck. I remember feeling it yesterday, too.
I frown as I look at my reflection in the mirror. My instincts are telling me there is a person standing behind me. I swipe my hand across the steamy mirror, revealing nothing behind me.
I decide my teeth are clean enough and leave the bathroom.
Zarmenus is totally focused on his game. I don’t think it would be out of the realm of fairness for me to ask him to turn it down, given how loud it is. I don’t want to play the role of that kind of roommate, though. I don’t want to tell him what to do.
Instead, I grab a pair of fresh socks from my closet.
“What are you doing?” he asks, not taking his eyes off the screen.
“There’s a school fair thing going on, would you like to come?”
He smiles. “Let me wrap this up.”
I watch him as he plays the game. He moves around the screen with a practiced ease.
“You’re good at this,” I say.
“Yeah, games were part of my research. I got addicted.”
He kills the last enemy, ranking first in the match. Seeing as he was competing against a hundred other strangers, it’s impressive. I wonder if the people out there know that the person who beat them is the prince of Hell?
As I wait by the door, I look around the room, trying not to be bothered by the mess.
I’m sure he’ll clean it up soon. Zarmenus puts his controller down, then grabs a packet of Doritos.
He reaches in, then tips the packet over his mouth, getting the last few crumbs—the ones that don’t fall onto his chest or the floor, that is.
He tosses the empty packet toward the bin. He misses, and doesn’t pick it up.
“What are you waiting for?” he asks. “Let’s go.”
We take the elevator down to the lobby, then go outside. I’m bracing myself for another protest, but that’s not what’s waiting for us. Though it’s equally horrifying.
It’s a group of paparazzi.
A group of about thirty are huddled outside. The sound of their cameras starts to give me a headache.
“Okay,” says Zarmenus, lifting his hands. “Let’s do this the right way. I’ll let you get your shot, then you leave us alone. Deal?”
“No dice,” says one of the men, who keeps taking pictures. “Who’s the blond?”
It takes me a second to realize he’s speaking about me. I’m not even blond. Yes, in the sun it looks kind of like it, and if I spend a lot of time outside it gets lighter, but my hair is light brown, thank you very much.
“I said,” says Zarmenus, his tone darkening, becoming fearsome, “deal?”
“Okay, fine, yes,” says the man, his voice suddenly high-pitched.
Zarmenus pulls me closer. “The blond is Owen. He’s my roommate.”
I try smiling as they take their pictures.
“I think that’s enough,” says Zarmenus. “We’ve got a school fair to get to. I would very much appreciate you leaving us alone.”
Zarmenus puts his arm under mine, pulling me away from the group.
“You handled that well,” I say. “But I thought your dad organized them?”
“I thought so, too, but I guess it’s out of even his control. He’d hate that. They shouldn’t be a problem, though. If they keep bothering us, I’ll make them regret it.”