Chapter Forty-Four
It took us a while, but we’ve figured out the exact script for our breakup.
We set up the framework of our conversation surprisingly well on our first attempt, minus all the real questions and responses we added. The ones that were tangled up in real emotion and were messy and painful and confusing have been cut.
I don’t miss them.
I go over the script in my mind. We deemed it too risky to write it down, but we’ve practiced it enough we both know exactly what to say.
We’ve revised it so it’s clear that we’re both devastated about the breakup.
Our roles? Two heartbroken boys accepting that our lives are far too different for us to work as a couple.
The setting will be the dance, and the scene starts with Zarmenus finding me on the dance floor and asking to talk.
I’m going to say that whatever he wants to tell me, he can say it to me here.
I’m going to cross my arms and stand my ground.
The hope is that should be enough to get some eyes on us, mostly because:
A) people love drama, and
B) people always pay attention to Zarmenus, no matter where he is. This is especially true now that he’s always in his true demon form.
If all goes to plan, someone will start filming us. Then he will tell me we should do the smart thing and break up, and I will agree with him. We’ll hug, I’ll cry if I can, and that will end both the scene and our fake relationship.
“You okay?”
I’m startled back to reality as Evie sits down on the couch next to me.
We’re in the middle of the Gaymers’ last meetup for the semester, although at this point more people are drinking and talking than playing any games.
Almost everyone else is drunk, and every room of the house now smells like alcohol or smoke.
Loud music is playing from Madison’s playlist, which is primarily rap by artists I’ve never heard of mixed with Taylor Swift.
When I asked her about it, she told me she contains multitudes, which was a good enough answer for me.
“I get it,” she says. “If I knew Madi was going to Hell I’d be devastated.”
Right. That fits.
“I’m going to really miss him,” I say.
“I know. But hey, he hasn’t left yet. Why don’t we stop moping on the couch and go find him?”
It’s brutal but fair.
We find Zarmenus in the living room. He’s playing a game of beer pong against Madison and Avery.
He’s on a team with Tyrell, and by the looks of things neither of them is particularly good at beer pong.
They only have one cup left, while only two cups have been taken from Madison and Avery’s side of the table.
“Do a spell,” says Tyrell to Zarmenus.
“No, no magic,” says Madison. “That’s cheating.”
“Well, do something,” says Tyrell, his voice slightly slurred by the alcohol. “What’s the point of having a magical teammate if you can’t do anything?”
Zarmenus lines up and throws, and his aim is way off.
“You’re going down, Hell boy,” says Madison.
“That’s offensive,” he says, before grinning. “Kidding.”
She throws the ball and it lands straight in their final cup. It’s about as perfect of a throw as one could ever hope for.
Given the rules of the game, it means that Zarmenus and Tyrell have to finish their opponents’ drinks. Zarmenus tips some of his potion into the first cup before drinking it.
“I don’t think I can drink anymore,” says Tyrell, who is now leaning against the wall, drunker than I’ve ever seen him. “I’ll be sick.”
“I’ll do it,” says Zarmenus as he tips more of his potion into the next cup. Wait, is he drunk? I’ve seen him tipsy, but never like this.
He proceeds to drink the remaining beers, one after the other, pouring an increasingly messy splash of the potion into each one.
When he finishes the last one, he staggers, only just managing to stay on his feet.
He’s not out of the ordinary here; a lot of people are completely wasted and one guy has already thrown up in the bathroom.
But it’s strange seeing this side of Zarmenus.
“Owen, do you want a go?” asks Madison. “I just demolished your boyfriend. I want the set.”
“I’m good,” I say. I probably would say yes, if it weren’t for Zarmenus acting this way.
He puts down the last beer cup, and I instantly know something is wrong.
He lurches forward, and I rush to his side, catching him at the last moment.
He puts his hand on my shoulder, steadying himself.
He lifts his head to look into my eyes. Even through the haze of the alcohol I see a spark of something, of familiarity and affection I’d swear was real if I didn’t know better.
We’re only inches away from each other, and all the things I try not to notice or feel come rushing in, too strong for me to resist. I remember kissing him, his smile, the glow I feel when I make him laugh.
“You’re always coming to my rescue,” he says.
“It’s what I’m here for.”
I’m aware that everyone in the room is watching this interaction.
We’ve had this happen before, but this is different.
They aren’t watching a moment we planned.
This is genuine, and Zarmenus being this drunk is dangerous.
He’s clearly not in control of himself, and given the huge secret we have, that’s terrifying.
He squeezes my shoulder, feeling me through the thin material of my shirt. “You’re cute when you’re protective.”
“You’re drunk.”
“No, I’m not.”
“Yes, you are.” I lower my voice. “We should get you home, we have a big day tomorrow, remember?”
“I’m fine, see.” He tries to walk in a straight line, but he wobbles all over the place. “I’ll burn it off, I just need to lie down.”
“Is he okay?” asks Madison, who has her arm slung over Evie’s shoulder.
“I’m fine,” says Zarmenus, his voice slurring. “I can handle my poison.”
“I think he needs a minute,” I say.
“You’re really pretty,” says Zarmenus to Madison. “Not as pretty as Owen, but still so pretty. You, too, Evie. If I knew people who liked board games were as hot as you three I would’ve gotten into them way sooner.”
“So he’s wasted,” says Evie.
“The bedroom’s down the hall,” adds Madison. “He can lie down for a second. And Zarmenus, I don’t care if you’re the prince of Hell, if you throw up in my room I will murder you. Got it?”
“Got it.”
“Come on,” I say, trying to pull Zarmenus toward the hall. It’s difficult, because he’s surprisingly heavy.
“What will you do for me if I do?” he asks.
I give him a blank stare, daring him to continue.
“Fine, all right, I’ll come. You sound like my parents. Do this, Zarmenus. Don’t set fire to that, Zarmenus.”
I practically carry the still rambling Zarmenus down the hall. I look over my shoulder as we reach Madison’s bedroom to catch Tyrell watching us. It seems he’s sobered up a little, and his eyebrows narrow as we go into the bedroom.
The room is mostly pink, and clearly, Madison’s put a lot of time, effort, and care into decorating. It’s not my style, but it’s very well put-together.
Zarmenus can barely stay on his feet, and he’s resting most of his weight on me. I help him to the bed, where he flops backward onto the bedspread.
I close the door behind us. He’s finally gone quiet, and is alarmingly still. I’ve lived with him long enough to know that he’s pretty much always moving. “You all right?”
He gives me a thumbs-up, his hand shooting straight into the air.
“Where are you going?” he asks.
“I’m not going anywhere.”
“You can go,” he says. “I know you don’t really like me. It’s all for your internship.”
“Hey, shh!”
His voice was loud, and these walls are thin.
“We should talk about it,” he says. “You only pretend to like me so you can go work at Google. That was the deal, right? Pretend to date me and all your dreams will come true.”
I move even closer, hoping he’ll get the idea that he needs to be quiet. “That’s not true. But please, listen, you have to be quiet.”
“Can you sit for a second?”
I’ll do anything if he’ll keep his voice down. I move over to the bed and sit down beside him.
“I’m sorry,” he says, scooting closer. “I’ve never had this much potion before.”
“It happens to the best of us.”
“Not to you.”
I laugh. “Yeah, well, I’m not exactly the most fun.”
“You are. You’re more fun than anyone I’ve met here. Seriously.”
Would he be saying this if he weren’t this drunk? He’s complimented me before, but this seems deeper, more real.
“Just tell me this,” he says. “Are you glad that we got to be roommates?”
“Of course. This thing with you, it’s been the most fun I’ve ever had.”
“Me too.”
He presses his forehead against my shoulder.
“What if,” he says, but then he stops himself.
I’m split in two. One part of me wants to tell him to stop, because he is moving into territory I’m sure he wouldn’t if he were sober.
The other part of me is so incredibly curious about what he’s going to say, and why he’s doing what he is right now.
Everything is risky and I already know that something enormous is happening, and my whole future hangs on this very moment.
“What if what?”
He rests even more of his weight against me. “Nothing.”
“No, go on. Tell me.”
“I can’t.”
A few moments pass. Should I press him, and try to get a proper explanation?
I decide I should probably leave. No good can come from staying here any longer.
It’s too volatile, too risky. He’s drunk and I really want to confess to him how things have changed for me but I know it’s a bad move.
I have to go before I say something I know I’ll regret.
“Sleep it off, okay,” I say. I pat him on the leg, then get up.
“Owen,” he calls as I reach the door. “I like you.”
I stop with my hand on the door handle. He’s told me that before, sure. But this time, I know with complete certainty what he means. He’s not telling me he likes me as a friend, or as a roommate. He’s telling me he likes me in a romantic sense.
“I like you, too,” I say, not even sure he can hear me.
With that, I slip outside to find Tyrell standing in the hallway. He was listening to us.
He heard everything.