Chapter Fourteen
Like usual, Zarmenus is gone by the time I wake up.
This morning, there’s no matcha latte sitting on my desk.
There is, however, more mess. It seems as if this morning he went through his entire closet when trying to decide what to wear, as now there isn’t anywhere in the room that’s free from clothes.
It’s a shit show, basically.
There are clothes pretty much all over the floor, and even on his desk. Kicked over onto my side of the room are sneakers that, from the looks of them, are years old. And they smell like they haven’t been washed in that entire time.
I need to talk to him. I know I do. But conflict isn’t something I’m used to. My family don’t really fight.
But I’m trapped in a room with him. For months.
And as hard as it is to see right now, I’m worried that this version of Zarmenus is him on his best behavior.
He was at the meeting with Leeke, and I know his parents are hanging a lot on this going well.
What that means is his behavior is going to keep on sliding, with things getting worse and worse until … well, what, exactly? I explode?
Bell appears on Zarmenus’s desk. As cute as she is, she’s in my bad books as well, after last night. I haven’t been able to forget what I saw. I doubt I ever will.
Bell jumps down off Zarmenus’s desk, then starts making a wet, retching sound.
Oh no.
“Bell, no!”
She doesn’t listen and throws up onto the carpet.
Only it’s not regular cat sick, which would be gross enough.
She’s thrown up what appears to be molten lava. The carpet catches fire and sends up foul-smelling black smoke. I sit up and try to figure out what to do. Bell doesn’t seem to be throwing up anymore, which is good.
But there’s still the burning puddle of lava to deal with.
I saw a fire extinguisher down the hall. I jump over the lava, grab my key card, then run down the hall to retrieve it. I sprint back to my room. The lava is spreading, eating into the carpet. Bell is now sitting on Zarmenus’s desk, licking her paws.
I aim the extinguisher at the lava and pull the trigger. It coats the lava, killing the flames.
I drop the extinguisher on the floor. I’m so worn out it takes me a moment to come to my senses.
The door swings open. Zarmenus comes inside, clearly back from a run. He’s holding two coffee cups, as well as a white paper bag that’s filled with what appears to be some kind of pastry.
He pauses. “What are you doing?”
“Bell was sick.”
“Oh, really?” he says. “I’m so sorry.”
We survey the damage. Bell’s burned a huge black patch into the carpet.
“Can you fix it?” I ask.
“I think so. It might be too damaged, though. Don’t be mad. She can’t help it.”
I set my teeth on edge. I don’t want to be told I can’t be upset that his forbidden cat’s lava vomit burned a huge mark into the carpet. One that, if I am hearing him correctly, he may have no means or intentions to fix.
“Is something wrong?” asks Zarmenus. “I got you a coffee. And something called a cronut.”
As nice as both sound, I’m far from hungry. He woke me up again last night. When I did get some sleep, I had nightmares about the ghoul in the mirror. And now this.
Remember the internship. Remember the internship.
“Talk to me,” he says. “Tell me what’s wrong.”
I nearly put on a fake face and smile and tell him that everything is okay. It’s what I would’ve done in the past, and all my instincts are telling me to do that to him now.
For the most part, I think people who keep the peace are given a bad rep.
People say they aren’t being genuine, but I think there’s more to it than that.
It’s a choice, because I can tell what will happen if I open my mouth and tell Zarmenus how I feel about how he’s been acting.
It will create tension. We will probably fight.
I don’t want that. What I want is for him to be more considerate, and to take better care of this room we’re sharing.
It would probably also be good if he could deal with the ghoul, but I’ll settle for the first two.
I have to decide if fighting for it is worth getting that, when I could just as easily swallow these emotions.
But his cat nearly burned down our room. Turns out even I have a line.
“We should talk,” I say.
“About what?”
Where to start?
“About you coming home late at night,” I say. “When you’re hooking up.”
“Dude, I’m so sorry I woke you.”
“It wasn’t just last night. You woke me up the night before as well.”
His eyes widen. “I did?”
“Yeah.”
“Why didn’t you say anything?”
“I didn’t think it was going to happen again.”
He shoves his hands into his pockets. It seems this is sinking in, and I feel a little bad. I know it’s justified, but he looks like a scolded puppy. I was expecting him to act annoyed, or to dismiss me completely.
“I’m so sorry,” he says. “I truly thought you were asleep.”
“It’s on me, too. You’re right, I could’ve told you. And I don’t want to stop you from having a good time. I just, you know.”
“Like sleep?” he interrupts with a grin.
“Yeah. But how about this. If you ever need the room for yourself to, you know, hook up or whatever, why don’t you let me know? I can go to the library or something.”
“You’d do that?”
“Of course. I don’t want to be some, like, party ruiner. It’s just hard for me when you wake me up because it feels like you don’t respect my space.”
“I get that. I’m sorry.” He chews his bottom lip. “From now on I’ll tell you, okay?”
“I’d appreciate that.”
“Would it be possible to have the room this afternoon?”
I blink. I am aware this was my idea. But I thought it was obvious it was a once-in-a-while kind of thing, something that he could use, like, once a week.
If he’s going to use it today, does this mean he’s just going to shift his nightly hookups to afternoon hookups, and I am going to find myself constantly booted out of my room?
I should’ve seen this coming, and now I’m the one who is in the wrong if I’m upset. It was my idea, I can’t exactly be mad if he takes me up on it.
“Does one work?” I ask, already thinking I could have lunch in the dining hall, then read in the library. It actually doesn’t sound like a bad afternoon.
“The guy is really hot. Look.”
He gets up and drops down on the couch next to me. I kind of hate noticing it, but he smells really good. It’s not like cologne, but it’s a nice and clean scent. He sits so closely his arm brushes against mine.
He shows me his phone, which has the social media profile of a guy who, if all his posts are any indication, is really into being shirtless.
I feel like this person—who I am guessing is named Brayden since his username is @Braydenliftsthings—and I would have absolutely nothing in common other than we both like guys.
“Hot, right?” says Zarmenus.
“Yeah, really hot.”
He locks his phone. “Speaking of, I hear you’ve been hanging out with Tyrell.”
The question catches me off guard. It’s not like me hanging out with Tyrell is a secret, but I didn’t think Zarmenus had been keeping tabs on me.
“How do you know about that?” I ask.
“You know how gays are,” he says. “We’re all keeping tabs on everyone. Adam saw you and Tyrell get smoothies at the mall the other day. Were you helping him with his TikTok?”
“No, we’re kind of friends now.”
“So it wasn’t a date?”
“He has a boyfriend.”
“Quite a few of the people I’ve hooked up with so far have boyfriends.”
My horror must show on my face.
“It’s all aboveboard,” he says, trying to recover. “As long as they’re open, it’s all good with me.”
I go quiet as I process that. I don’t have a problem with any kind of relationship; I figure everyone should be able to make their own rules, but if Zarmenus were some kind of home-wrecker that would bother me.
“I double-check,” he says. “I don’t want that hanging on my conscience. Have you ever had a threesome?”
I’m glad I haven’t been drinking anything, as I would’ve spit it out.
“I take that as a no.”
I feel this conversation veering into uncomfortable territory, and now what I want is an escape.
I’ve had conversations like this at parties, where people talk openly about what they’ve done.
And even though I’m not ashamed that I haven’t even kissed anyone yet, I don’t like disclosing that.
It makes me feel weird, vulnerable, even when I know it shouldn’t.
Some people have no interest in hooking up, and that’s totally fine. But I do, and yet, I haven’t. It makes me feel like there must be something wrong with me, something that is glaringly obvious to everyone else, something that I’m missing.
Zarmenus is watching me. His expression is soft, and not unkind. It’s more he’s puzzled by me, which I don’t really get. I think it’s obvious that I’m insecure about not having much experience with guys, and I don’t want him to judge me because of it.
“Why are you looking at me like that?” I ask.
“Just trying to figure you out,” he says. “You do know that pretty much every queer guy on campus is talking about how hot you are, right?”
I laugh. Because that’s so not true and has to be an exaggeration.
“Everyone’s trying to figure out what your deal is,” he says. “To be honest I am, too. You could be hooking up, like, all the time, and yet you’re not.”
“No,” I say. My cheeks are now burning. I was not aware he, or anyone, thought of me this way.
Ashley says I’m hot all the time, sure, but she’s my best friend and she has to say that.
Jackson called me hot a few times, but he’s straight and dating my best friend, so again, he had to.
Though I remember every single time he said that.
I keep those compliments tucked away in my memory and think about them all the time.
“Are you religious?” he asks.
“Does agnostic count?” I ask.
“Interesting. What about your parents?”
“Mom thinks that religion is used by the wealthy and powerful to control people. She does believe in crystals, though, so she might not be the best person to listen to, and Dad’s a hardcore atheist. I’m somewhere in the middle.
I think there could be something out there, but if there was I don’t think people would know exactly what it is. ”
I can just make out the outline of Zarmenus’s crystal through his shirt. It’s possible Mom wasn’t completely off base believing in the powers of magical stones, something she’s sworn by for as long as I can remember. Mom is never wrong about anything.
“Interesting. I thought most humans picked up their beliefs from their parents.”
“Most, not all,” I say. “Being queer’s probably a factor in that, but that’s a totally different topic. Do people really think I’m hot?”
“I’ve had three guys ask me to bring you to stuff so they can meet you,” says Zarmenus. “You’re a catch, Greene.”
Him saying my surname hits like a crossbow bolt to the chest.
Back to people saying I’m hot. He might be telling me the truth.
I do feel different from how I was in high school.
I feel as if I’ve grown into myself. I now know more about what clothes I like, and I’ve mostly figured out my hair and skincare.
I feel good about how I look most of the time. So, like, maybe?
Anyway. I shouldn’t get distracted by these compliments. This talk was about resolving what’s been going on between us before things become unbearable.
Yes, our room is still a mess. But maybe he will fix that on his own. I’ll give him another chance to fix things.
I think this went well.