Chapter Seventeen
This comedian is bombing.
It’s hard to watch.
I’m sitting at one of the wooden tables at Toohey’s, one of only two full-service restaurants on campus.
They are hosting a stand-up comedy night, and thankfully it’s not students who are performing, but instead, they’ve hired a few actual comedians.
The first few that I’ve watched have been pretty good, but this guy?
I have to hope it’s an off night.
I’m with Tyrell, and he’s brought his roommate, Avery McCleery.
I did ask Zarmenus if he wanted to come, but he said he had plans with one of his frat brothers.
He’s been out all day. I’m pretty sure he’s been spending most of his time hooking up, and you know what?
Good for him. As long as he does it somewhere other than our room, I don’t care at all what he gets up to.
Unfortunately, he still hasn’t started cleaning up his side of the room. I caved and threw out a few food containers he hasn’t touched since move-in day, as they had started to go moldy. If he noticed, he didn’t comment.
But I’m not thinking about Zarmenus tonight. I am here with Tyrell, and Avery, who seems nice. He’s a business major who loves anime and has a self-described second life as a drag queen called Red Velvet.
Even though Toohey’s doesn’t accept meal plan swipes, we decided to split the bill and ordered a bunch of appetizers: chicken wings covered in buffalo sauce, waffle fries, and jalapeno poppers.
It’s all so absurdly delicious I am starting to think I’ll eat here all the time when I get a part-time job.
“So I’ve been trying to get in shape,” says the comedian. “To impress the ladies. Good thing a circle is a shape, am I right?”
Crickets.
“Er, so how about dating,” he continues. “It’s tough, right? Like, you judge people based on their profiles, but everyone is lying. You know it’s true. Nobody is going to write on their profile: ‘I’m flaky and I chew with my mouth open,’ you know?”
That earns a few chuckles from the crowd, the most he’s gotten.
“Nobody is going to write: ‘I’m not over my ex! I have crippling self-esteem issues that make me question if I’m even worthy of love!’”
The room goes quiet again.
“Wow, too real? Okay, that’s the line then, no making fun of people with self-esteem issues, gotcha.” He lifts both his eyebrows. “That’s fair, you know. They’ve probably been bullied enough, no need to make it worse for them.”
A few people chuckle. It feels more sympathetic than anything.
“Anyway, that’s it from me. If you liked me, my name’s Eddy Gluck. If you didn’t, I’m someone else! Goodnight.”
He walks offstage, and that wraps up the comedy section of the night.
Even though he wasn’t as funny as the first few acts, he tried his best. Plus, the show was free, so it’s hard to be too critical.
I take a bite from another jalapeno popper.
It’s perfectly crispy and has just enough spice to it.
I’d say these are the best jalapeno poppers I’ve had in my life.
“What’s the plan now?” asks Tyrell as he eats a waffle fry. “The night is young and I’m in the mood for some gay chaos.”
“Me too,” says Avery. “Have you been to Somewhere yet, Owen?”
“No, what’s that?”
“Gay meeting spot on campus, it’s good. I’ve performed there a few times as Red. We could go tonight, if you’d like? There are no drinks but there are cute boys.”
It’s after nine, and I don’t have plans for the rest of the night. I’m hit with a flicker of annoyance at Zarmenus, because going to a gay venue with them sounds fun. But even now I can feel my energy levels are nowhere near where they should be for anything like that.
“That sounds fun,” I say. “But to be honest I’m so freaking tired.”
“Did Zarmenus wake you up again?” asks Tyrell.
“No,” I say, a little too quickly.
“Is there drama?” asks Avery. “Spill, I love drama.”
“There’s no drama,” I say. “Seriously. I just haven’t been sleeping well.”
“Well, that’s no fun,” says Avery. “If you change your mind, I’m all ears.”
The three of us leave Toohey’s and start heading back to our dorms. I glance around and marvel once again at just how pretty the campus is. It’s so nice here, and even though I haven’t been a student that long, I already feel so much, ahem, Point pride.
As we walk down the street-lit path in comfortable silence, I start to wonder about Zarmenus. What’s he up to tonight?
We reach Clark Hall and stop outside the doors.
“Say hi to your roommate for me,” says Avery as we hug.
“I will. Actually, um, there’s this game night tomorrow. Would either of you like to go?”
“I’m free,” says Tyrell. “Message me the details.”
“Sweet.”
I go inside. I get to my level and stop at our doors. I’m on cloud nine. I’m still not over how delicious those jalapeno poppers were. Plus, hanging out with Tyrell and Avery was really fun.
I freeze.
There’s a sock hanging on my door.
Zarmenus has to be playing some kind of joke on me, surely. Like this is a bit. We have our agreement.
How is this happening?
I don’t know what to do. I have a key, so even if he locked the door, I could unlock it.
But I don’t want to. I want him to be a normal freaking roommate who doesn’t have guys over seemingly every second.
I have no problems with him enjoying hooking up as much as he does.
But seriously, he is the prince of Hell.
Even if currencies are different or whatever, surely he has enough money to get himself a single room.
I take out my phone and send Zarmenus a message.
Hey, I’m home, what’s going on?
Maybe, just maybe, this is an accident and the sock is on the door because he hooked up earlier and forgot to remove it. I still don’t love that, but it’d be better than being kept out of my room when I’m this tired.
Normally I would rewrite the message to try to dial back some of the hostility. But screw it. I’ve had a big day today, and I’m tired. I don’t want to freaking have to wait out here for him to be done. What I want is to be able to go to my bedroom and just relax. That’s all I freaking want.
I check my phone again. He hasn’t seen the message. Of course he hasn’t, he is busy with whoever he is.
I sit down on the floor. I don’t know what to do. I could ask Tyrell and Avery if they are doing anything, and maybe hang out in their room until Zarmenus is done. But how long will that be?
I wait for five minutes. I start pacing back and forth to try to burn off some of this annoyed energy.
I check the clock on my phone as it ticks over to fifteen minutes of waiting.
It’s now past ten at night, and I am completely and utterly over this.
He still hasn’t seen the message I sent him, and it’s making my blood feel like the rivers of lava in Hell.
If I were to open my mouth, flames would come spilling out.
It’s pretty new for me. I normally only ever feel something close to this whenever I’m playing a video game and up against a really tough enemy.
This is unbearable, it’s under my skin, pure frustration with nowhere to go, and the only way to fix it is for this to stop.
The door flies open. Zarmenus is half-dressed, with a shirt half on and his bottom half only covered by underwear. He tugs the shirt down, covering himself.
“I’m so sorry,” he says. “I just saw your message.”
Behind him is not one, but two shirtless guys. One of them is @Braydenliftsthings.
“Five more minutes?” he asks.
“No,” I say. “I’m sorry, but I’m so tired, and I’ve been out here for like fifteen minutes already.”
“You’re right. Give me a second.”
He shuts the door. I take a step back. As the seconds pass by I start to worry that he was just saying that to get rid of me.
But then the door opens again and Brayden emerges.
His hair is ruffled and he’s done a terrible job of buttoning his shirt back up, as the first few are undone, showing off a stretch of pale skin.
Behind him is a skinny guy with red hair.
“Sorry,” says Brayden. “He told us you’d be out for the rest of the night.”
“It’s fine, I’m not mad,” I say. “At you, anyway.”
“You know,” says the red-haired guy, “jealousy isn’t a good look.”
With that, they go down the hall.
What does he mean? I’m not jealous. I’m annoyed. And I think I have every right to be.
I go into our room. Zarmenus is on his bed. He’s put on his headphones. Bell is nowhere to be seen. I figure him putting on his headphones is him sending a very clear message: he does not want to talk.
Which is fair enough. I don’t want to talk, either.
I change into my pj’s in the bathroom, trying my best to ignore the shadowy figure that appears in the mirror.
I’m too annoyed to be scared. I furiously brush my teeth.
As I do, I try to think of a solution to this.
I shouldn’t have to feel like I’ve stepped on his toes instead of the other way around.
He’s the one who is being a bad roommate.
I’ve tried my best to come up with something that could work for both of us. I truly have.
I flick the light off and get into bed.
I try to get the flames to die down with sheer willpower. Being this annoyed is no good for anyone. It’s an emotion I’m unfamiliar with, and one I don’t really want to get used to or to feel for even a second longer than I have to.
Beneath me, Zarmenus starts to snore.