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 three siblings, 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.
That makes it twice in one night.
Maybe it’s because it’s early and I didn’t sleep well, but frustration, an emotion I’m not that used to, surges within me. Would it be so hard for him to close the door quietly? That way I could catch up on the sleep he cost me by hooking up on the bed about ten inches from mine.
I sit up, and my mouth drops open.
Our room is a mess.
Zarmenus has left a bunch of clothes on the floor. There is even a pair of bright red underwear slung over his desk chair. How did he not think he should put them away?
There’s a coffee sitting on my desk. It has my name on it, next to a heart.
Zarmenus’s apology for last night?
Probably.
I get out of bed, grab the coffee, and angrily take a sip. It’s another matcha latte. Which is nice, it really is, but I don’t know if it undoes what he did last night.
I’m annoyed, but this matcha latte is delicious. I take another sip and try to figure out if him bringing me such a delicious drink cancels out him waking me up.
My phone buzzes. It’s a message from Tyrell.
Hey Owen! It was so nice meeting you last night, hope you aren’t too bruised from our fight, haha. Anyway, I was thinking of going to Green Oaks Mall this morning, and I was wondering if you’d like to come with? I can buy you a smoothie for the favor you did me last night? Totally okay if not.
I forget all about being annoyed at Zarmenus. He reached out! This is amazing!
I’d love to! And you don’t have to get me a smoothie. But yeah, sounds good ?
About an hour later, I stroll up to the bus stop in front of my dorm room to discover Tyrell is already waiting for me.
His outfit is a palette-swapped version of last night: now his shirt is pink, but it’s still tucked into a pair of chinos leading to a pair of well-worn dress boots.
He looks bright and refreshed, and I can feel the heavy bags under my eyes.
“Did you go out last night?” he asks.
Oof. Seems I look as tired as I feel.
“No, I just didn’t sleep very well.”
“Ah, fair. It takes a while to adjust.”
I notice just how cute Tyrell is. Not that I even think that’s where this is going.
My dating experience in high school was pretty much defined by me having crushes on guys that were unavailable, and I don’t want to continue that here, even though Tyrell Finch is objectively adorable.
Even more attractive is how sweet and thoughtful he seems. I know I can’t control my feelings and who I like, though I wish I could. But that’s not what I want from Tyrell.
I want a friend. Someone I can talk to about how increasingly annoying Zarmenus is becoming.
The urge to vent comes on, hard and fast. So far, I’ve barely told anyone what it’s really like sharing a room with Zarmenus.
Tyrell knows I’m sharing a room with him, but last night I decided to keep the more painful parts a secret.
I haven’t even told Ashley, because that would truly cement that I’m having roommate issues, something I’m not sure I’m ready to accept.
“Actually, something happened last night,” I say.
“Ooh, spill.”
The bus arrives. We climb on, taking a seat near the back. Now I’m second-guessing my decision to tell Tyrell. Not because I don’t trust him, but because there is a bunch of other people on this bus within earshot.
“Does this have something to do with Zarmenus?” he asks.
I nod. “I’ll tell you when we get there,” I say, glancing around the crowded bus.
We talk about TV shows (he is currently rewatching Abbott Elementary) and comics (his favorite character is a tie between Nightwing and Spider-Man) until we reach the mall and go inside.
“How about this,” he says, as I peer into a Hot Topic that has a Hell display in the front, offering a bunch of red-and-orange T-shirts and hoodies. “I buy you a smoothie, and you tell me everything.”
“Deal.”
Once our smoothies are ready, he and I take a seat at one of the tables.
The food court is clean and nice and has all the fast-food options I was rarely allowed to eat back home, since both Mom and Dad agree those foods are “more chemicals than food.” I liked to argue that all foods are technically chemicals, but that never got me anywhere.
I decide I’m about to vent, and tell Tyrell everything Zarmenus has done since we started sharing a room.
No clean, sanitized version. I am going to tell him what it’s actually like sharing a room with the prince of hell.
“Actually, before you say something,” he says. “There’s something you should know.”
He takes out his phone and swipes a few times, then hands it to me.
On it is a TikTok profile called @My_Classmate_From_Hell.
It has nearly half a million followers, and nearly two million likes.
The TikToks are all of Tyrell, and in some, you can see Zarmenus.
One is of the shadow monster he created to scare the protesters, and one is of him possessing the demon hunter at the school fair.
“I told you I’m a journalism student, right?” he says. “Well, I started this little project to, like, document what it’s like going to school with a demon. It’s historic, right? Plus I wanted to counterbalance all that Golden Sun nonsense out there. And, well, it took off.”
“Right,” I say, my guard up. What if Tyrell asking me to join him last night wasn’t random?
What if he asked me to hang out to learn more about Zarmenus and become even more internet famous?
Last night starts to transform in my memory, with his side of the story ruining the perfect image I once had.
What if what I thought was a really cool friendship origin story was actually a carefully calculated scene put in place to get close to Zarmenus?
“I swear, I didn’t know you were his roommate when I asked you to hang out,” he says. “Dude, I promise it was just a coincidence.”
“Why didn’t you say anything last night?”
“I wanted to. But I thought if I told you you’d get the wrong idea and, I dunno, I love my friends but we all went to high school together and I don’t meet people very often I think I could be friends with.”
“You think you could be friends with me based on one inflatable ring battle?”
“Yes,” he says, not missing a beat.
My gut is still telling me to be careful. If I tell Tyrell anything about Zarmenus, then he could post about it to half a million people.
“I screwed this up, didn’t I?” he says, looking crestfallen. “Seriously, man, you don’t have to talk to me about Zarmenus if you don’t want to. And I won’t post anything about this. But I’d totally get if you want to stop hanging out.”
“No, it’s okay,” I say. “Promise you won’t post about this?”
“Seriously, I never will. Cross my heart, hope to die, my lips are sealed; you get the gist. I don’t want to be the kind of person who would screw over a friend to break a story.”
I trust him. A part of me thinks that could be a mistake, but I do trust him. And I still want to vent. Tyrell doesn’t seem like the type to go back on his word and screw me over. It might still be a risk, but it’s one I’m willing to take.
“Zarmenus is … nice,” I say.
“I feel like a ‘but’ is coming.”
“But he can be a little inconsiderate, I guess.”
“In what way?”
“He hooked up with someone last night,” I say. The floodgates are opening, and I can’t stop this now. “And it wasn’t the first time. And then there’s the whole protest and getting shot with a crossbow, and it’s a lot.” I let out a huff.
“I’ll give him the benefit of the doubt for the other things, because they’re not exactly his fault. But he hooked up with someone when you were there?”
“Yeah.”
“Shit, dude. And he’s done this twice?”
“Yeah, but I think he thinks I’m asleep. And I am, because it’s always really late when he comes home. But he’s loud and he wakes me up and then I have to lie there and listen to them as they, you know.” I use my hands to mime a gross make-out session.
Tyrell frowns.
“This goes beyond acceptable roommate behavior, right?” I ask.
“It most certainly does.”
“Phew. I was starting to think I was the weird one.”
“No. Man, that sucks. I’m sorry.”
“Do you think I should tell him I can hear him?”
“Well, yes,” he says. “Listen, you’re not in the wrong here, he clearly is.
If I wanted to hook up with someone I would for sure wait until I knew I had the room to myself for a few hours, and even then I’d probably try to find somewhere else.
I’m already planning for when Myron comes to visit.
I’m going to book us a night at this motel in Kingsport.
I would never, ever hook up when my roommate was home, and even using the room itself is kinda bad. That’s basic etiquette.”
“See, that makes sense.”
“Yeah.”
I take a sip of my smoothie. It’s mango-coconut and it’s delicious. “What do you think I should do about it?”
“Up to you. You could talk to him, but that has risks.”
“Such as?”
“People don’t like being told what to do. They can react poorly.”
“Right.”
“If you tell him, like, you can’t go bringing people home late at night and waking me up, then he might get annoyed at you. And then there will be.” He bumps his fists together. “Tension.”
“There’s already tension.” I take another big sip of my drink. “It’s just he doesn’t know about it.”
“You need to decide if you’re willing to put up with it or not. Because in my experience, these things never fix themselves. It’ll just get worse and worse until you snap.”
I move my smoothie around on the table. He’s right.
Zarmenus waking me up late at night is annoying, sure, but I don’t think it’s intentional.
And the last thing I want is for things between us to become truly tense.
If he acts like this while he thinks we’re friends, what will he be like if he decides we’re enemies?
I get a sense that he isn’t the type to let things slide, and I doubt he would want to be seen as the loser of anything.
He’s also the prince of Hell. He has magical abilities and is a demon.
I do not want to be on his bad side.
“There’s more,” I say. “Dean Leeke basically offered me an internship at Google if I make it through the semester living with him. So it’s just really complicated.”
I rest my head on the table.
“How about this,” says Tyrell. “Why don’t you give him one more chance. Who knows, maybe he is done hooking up or someone else will make him come to his senses. But if he does it again, then you talk to him. Three times is enough to warrant a conversation.”
It’s a good plan, and it makes sense.
Zarmenus has one last chance to be a good roommate. If he does it again, I’ll have to tell him to stop, no matter the risks.
It’s terrifying, but I don’t have a choice.