Fell In Love With My Roomy Chapter 15

It had been a while since I'd attended a party. Back in high school, whenever my friends returned home, there was always some party to attend. However, most of them now spent their summers working or doing research in their college towns. Tonight, I needed to make an effort to be sociable, strike up conversations, and hopefully make some new friends.

After a refreshing shower and some hair care, I left my hair slightly wavy. As a child, I had struggled to straighten it, but I now found its natural texture rather charming.

Opting for a simple outfit to avoid drawing too much attention, I settled on a tank top and shorts, given the expected heat. I laced up my trusty old Converse and secured my belt bag. It was the perfect accessory for carrying a few essentials on a night out.

We were waiting for Mark and Kyle to return home. Mark's practice had run late, and Kyle wouldn't be back until eight, so he suggested we head out without him if we were eager to get going.

Surveying myself in the mirror, I felt plain, especially since my brown hair lacked highlights. I applied some minimal makeup, knowing it would likely sweat off later. I didn't feel the need to match the glamour of Piper and her friends, and it had taken me a while to realize that was perfectly fine. It was like being back in middle school.

I mustered the confidence to leave my room and head to the kitchen. Kent and I rarely found ourselves alone at home. When we were, he usually kept his door shut, creating a sort of unspoken boundary. So, it was rather surprising to spot him at the dining room table.

We seldom conversed, as he often didn't respond when I tried. I stood there, contemplating what to eat, aware that I needed some sustenance.

I retrieved a container of pasta I'd prepared a couple of days ago, thinking it was better to eat it now than let it go to waste. I opened it and pulled the microwave away from the wall. After placing it inside, I turned around to put the lid in the dishwasher and found myself locking eyes with Kent. He was just staring at me, his fork poised in mid-air.

Whenever I met those eyes, my throat tightened, a familiar sensation. They were captivating, making me wish my piercings were equally enchanting.

"What?" I inquired, unsure of how else to react.

He promptly cleared his throat, shook his head, and resumed eating. "Nothing," he mumbled with a mouthful of food. I gazed at the dirty frying pan and spatula on the stove, noticing his displeasure. I placed his dishes in the dishwasher, pressing my lips together. "That's not necessary," he grumbled.

"Well, it's more efficient to put them in here," I shrugged and positioned them on the racks. "If we each use two dishes per meal, they accumulate quickly."

"Yeah, Julianna, I'm aware," he responded. "I've been here longer than you."

"Yeah, I know," I sighed, my gaze drifting to the floor. "Just forget it," I added, frustrated by his surly attitude. I wasn't sure what had changed, but he had become increasingly difficult to converse with. When we first met, he had been pleasant and eager to get to know me, even excited about me moving in. Now, it felt as if he couldn't stand to be near me.

"Have I made a mistake?" I leaned against the counter, my voice barely above a whisper. I was hesitant to even ask, given his existing frustration. Kent let out a sigh, and I crossed my arms.

"No," he replied, looking at the table. I nodded.

"Because that's how you're acting," I told him.

He rolled his eyes, exasperated.

"Everything's fine, Julianna," he reassures me, and I nod, focusing on the wall while the microwave beeps. I retrieve my meal and a fork from the drawer, opting to eat while standing at the counter. "Why do you always do that?" he inquires, and I raise an eyebrow.

"Do what?"

"Like, don't sit with everyone or eat in your room," he explains with a casual shrug. "You know, you live here too," he adds, poking at his food without making eye contact.

"What about your behavior suggests, 'Hey, Julianna, come sit with me?'" I respond, blowing on my pasta before taking a forkful.

"I don't bite," he says, nudging the empty chair beside him out of the way. I sigh.

"I'm not so sure about that," I mutter as I make my way to the now-vacant chair.

"You hate me, don't you?" he asks, almost smirking, and I narrow my eyes.

"I don't hate anyone," I reply with sincerity. Whatever this was, it would eventually unravel. I'd glimpsed another side of his personality, but he was keeping it hidden. "Though I'm sure you'd disagree."

"I don't hate you, but you can be quite a handful," he states, offering a cocky smile as he continues eating.

"That's not funny to me," I admit, feeling hurt.

"Who's laughing?" he retorts, and I chew on the inside of my cheek. "I'm just saying, you could relax a bit and stop acting like your mere presence is bothering everyone."

I sit there, feeling miserable about myself. My cheeks burn as he exposes a significant source of my insecurities. I'd always been anxious and eager to please others, not wanting to be disliked. I'd thought I'd concealed it better, but apparently, he'd noticed.

"I'm not uptight," I say quietly, not wanting to give him the satisfaction of getting to me.

"You're right, and that's okay," he concedes, surprising me. "I'm actually quite surprised you want to go to the party tonight," he adds with a shrug.

"What's that supposed to mean?" I ask, sensing something inside me ready to snap. "You think I'm not good enough to hang out with? I always knew you had that 'peak in high school' vibe, but I didn't think you'd regress back to high school lunchroom standards as a fourth-year college student."

Is that all you've got, Julianna? You're stronger than this. I hadn't been this harsh with him before, but my outburst seemed to amuse him.

"That's more like it," he chuckles. "But let's be clear: I didn't peak in high school," he asserts with a hint of darkness, making my heart race. I'd hit a nerve.

"Really? Because your black Jeep and Air Force Ones might suggest otherwise," I retort as I rise from the table, offering a smile. His expression turns sour, so I carry my bowl back to my room and return to my bed. "Oh, and could you please consider moving your dishes those five feet to the dishwasher as a favor to me?"

It was a daring statement to make to my new roommate, but I wouldn't let him belittle me and chip away at my self-esteem for no reason.

"But you seem to enjoy it so much; why should I spoil your fun?" he retorts, to which I don't respond.

"You're insufferable," I tell him, and he laughs. It's the first time I've heard him laugh, and if it weren't for him, it would be a pleasant, joyful sound.

"I'm well aware that's what you think," he shrugs. "There are people worse than me."

"It's hard for me to believe that," I reply as I walk back down the hall and close my room's door.

I couldn't stand how easily he got under my skin, and all it took was that. I wasn't sure if I wanted us to get along or if I wanted to punch him in the face.