Fell In Love With My Roomy Chapter 20

"Mr. Matchmaker, tell me about the type of girl you'd consider dating," I say as I sigh and shut down my laptop, figuring we can continue our conversation here at home.

"Who knows? Maybe someone fun. I just don't have the time to go out with anyone," he replies, highlighting how his busy schedule revolves around training and traveling for games. "Given my hectic life, I think she'd need to be easygoing and laid-back. I'm easy to get along with and talk to."

"Good with people, huh?" I ask with a chuckle. "We're not talking about a pet here; we're discussing a girlfriend."

"I'm sure you get it," we both laugh, and I respond with a casual shrug. "But yeah, just someone who's pleasant and goes with the flow."

"I understand; that makes sense," I nod in agreement. Chase certainly embodies an easygoing demeanor, something I sometimes find hard to fathom.

"But you're not actively searching for a date," I reiterate what he's already mentioned.

"No, but you never know when something good might come along," he shrugs, and I find myself nodding along.

What would that even feel like? How does it feel when you genuinely like someone, and they reciprocate? While dating my previous boyfriend, I thought I knew, but as time went on, I realized we weren't as compatible as I had initially thought, and I was forcing the relationship.

"I suppose you're right," I offer a nonchalant shrug, then check the time on my computer's bottom corner. "Oh no, I need to head home. I have to grab dinner before my shift at work."

"Cool, I'll walk you," he suggests with a shrug, which surprises me a bit. Another person offering to walk me home? Do I come across as that vulnerable?

"That's really not necessary; it's not far," I reply as I start putting away my notes and sliding my laptop into its case.

"It's no trouble, and I live nearby, plus we're headed in the same direction," he says with a casual shrug. "Besides, it's nice to chat with you, and I wouldn't mind not walking home alone."

I'm pleasant to talk to? I've always thought I talked too much and rambled on, but maybe he finds it enjoyable. Either way, it's refreshing to have a new friend.

The weather is still quite warm and sunny as we stroll home, a reminder that summer hasn't completely faded away yet. Chase proves to be a good conversationalist, making me laugh a few times along the way. We soon reach the corner near my house, and I sigh because it's such a short walk.

"Hey, I know I haven't texted you much, but I'm not really good at it, and I've been quite busy," he says, suddenly broaching the topic.

"I haven't been upset or anything, so it's all good," I reassure him with a smile. "Studying together sounds like a great idea, though."

"Perfect, we can catch up," he replies, tucking his hands into his pockets and offering another shrug. "We usually meet on Tuesdays at 7 p.m. If that doesn't work, just shoot me a text, and we'll figure something out."

"Sounds good," I smile. "Well, I've got to go now, but I'll see you around."

"Yeah, take care, Julianna," he returns my smile, and as I descend the metal steps to our front door, I give him a friendly wave. I use my keys to unlock the door and enter, only to find Kent already in the kitchen, clearly agitated and on the phone with his newest iPhone.

"No, tell them I'm not doing it," he snaps in a harsh tone, still unaware of my presence. "No, I won't do that. I've made up my mind, and I'm not leaving. I've got great friends here, and I-"

This seems like a heated call, and I'm curious to know who he's talking to.

"I won't be going there," he says sharply. "You can tell them 'no' because I'll have my degree in a year. You made me choose this school, right? Just not the one you were hoping for."

From the tone, it's evident that he's talking to a parent on the other end of the line.

"I'm not leaving, and I'm not leaving now," he asserts. "I mean it, I've got something here that's more valuable than any paycheck anyone can offer." He raises his voice, and I stealthily begin walking down the hallway, but I have to pass by the open kitchen. "I'm staying, and that's final!" he exclaims angrily before tossing his phone onto the counter.

He covers his face with his hands, and under different circumstances, I might have tried to offer comfort. But Kent and I don't have a good relationship, and he's not the type to easily open up. I continue to move quietly, but just as I'm about to slip away, a creaky floorboard betrays my presence.

Swiftly, he turns to see who's there, and I fall silent. He's clearly upset; his chest heaves, and his flared nostrils reveal his agitation. Strangely, though, he doesn't appear angry with me. He seems more surprised by my presence and still in the process of calming down from the phone call.

"When did you get here?" he asks, his voice now calm and direct, and I swallow hard.

"Not long ago," I respond. "It was only for about 20 seconds, and I wasn't eavesdropping; I just wanted to give you some space." Kent's a very private person, so I need to clarify this. My heart races, almost as if in anticipation, and I'm taken aback by how he's holding my gaze, considering he usually avoids eye contact. "I'm really sorry—"

"No, I'm the idiot who had a private conversation in our shared living space," he mutters to himself, running a hand over his face. "I'm sorry you had to hear that."

He's never apologized to me before, so whatever was said on that call must have deeply affected him.

"It's okay," I nod, awkwardly fidgeting with my hands. "I know you're not particularly fond of me, but I'll be in my room if you ever want to talk about it." I doubt he'll take me up on the offer, but I want him to know I'm here if he needs someone to talk to.

"You... you'd actually want to talk to me about this?" he asks, genuinely surprised, and I simply shrug.

"Kent, caring about someone doesn't require you to like them," I affirm. "And if you feel like you're in the right place with something worth staying for, trust your gut. I'd do the same." I offer a smile and another shrug as I walk down the hallway to my room, hoping it conveys my understanding.

Upon entering my room, a wave of relief washes over me. That might have been the most civil conversation we've ever had. I had braced myself for his anger when he saw me again, or for him to dismiss my words and tell me not to meddle.

I feel uneasy as I wait to see what will happen next, fearing that it could make our already awkward interactions even more uncomfortable.

"Julianna?" Kent stands in my doorway when I turn around. I swallow hard, my heart pounding.

"I'm sorry if that was inappropriate. You shouldn't have to deal with me," I admit, my tension mounting. I don't want him to berate me or make me feel worse than when he told me he didn't want to be my friend.

"You think I'd get angry with you, huh?" he asks, his voice sounding somewhat sad, and all I can do is shrug.

"I know you value your alone time," I reply, my voice so hushed that it's almost a whisper.

"I cooked dinner for you, and I know you have to work soon. I originally planned to save it for leftovers, but if you're interested, we can share it now," he offers with a casual shrug, and I immediately accept without second-guessing myself. You're being impulsive, Julianna, and this could be risky.

However, it's also intriguing. For the first time, he's showing some interest in me, so perhaps we don't need to be at odds all the time. I don't want to constantly feel miserable in my own apartment.

"Sure," I sigh and set my bag on the bed before following him to the kitchen.

He serves stir-fry into two bowls, and I raise my eyebrows playfully.

"What?" I laugh as I ask.

"Seems like you've got your meals all planned out, huh?" I tease. "You eat this every Wednesday."

"Have you been keeping tabs on my dinner choices?" He replies with a chuckle, seeming amused, and my cheeks flush slightly.

"No, I'm just observant," I defend myself as he hands me a bowl. He heads to the table, and after a moment's consideration, I decide to join him. It's been weeks since we've spent this much time together. "So, um, do you want to talk or just eat? Honestly, I'm fine with either."

"Sorry, but that phone call doesn't really matter," he shrugs, and I bite my lip to hold back my true thoughts. But I can't resist.

"You seemed pretty upset after it," I shrug. "It takes a lot to get me that worked up about something." I confess, trying to gently nudge him into sharing.

He gazes at the table, toying with his food, while I sigh. It's clear he's wrestling with various emotions.

"Look, I won't pressure you to talk about it, but you don't have to pretend it doesn't matter," I say in a hushed tone as I take a bite of the meal he prepared. It's delicious and eases my nerves. Mr. Grumpy and Mr. Mysterious both know their way around the kitchen.

We eat quietly for a while until he starts talking again. "My dad went to Dartmouth, got his MBA there, and started his own business with his roommate at the age of 23." I pause eating, looking up at him as he continues to play with his food. It's clear that this is not something he usually shares; it's deeply personal. "I didn't want to go straight to college. I wanted a gap year to figure out who I was. But my dad didn't think that was a good idea, so he made me choose a school and start classes. That's why I picked Brown."

"That sounds tough," I offer a gentle shrug, and he nods, running his hand through his dark hair. I watch as his forearm muscles flex and his bicep tightens. He's undeniably attractive, but I feel out of my league and entirely uncomfortable around him.

"I like it here, and I want to finish this darn degree so my dad will stop hounding me. But he keeps calling, saying he's been talking to the Dartmouth dean and could secure me a transfer." His words make sense to me.

All of this just reinforces that Kent comes from a privileged background. Yet, it seems he hasn't had everything handed to him.

"But you don't want to go," I reiterate, and he affirms.

"No," he says with a sigh. I understand why he's exasperated. That makes me oddly relieved, though I can't explain why. There's no reason to be pleased about a guy staying around who doesn't particularly like me. "He has a lot of expectations, and I can't seem to meet all of them."

"You can't force yourself into something like that," I tell him earnestly. "You'll be dead from a heart attack by the time you're 25." I offer him a small smile, and he looks at me for the first time since he started talking. "I don't know what's best, but I do know it's your life. You have to live it the way you want and make the choices that matter to you."

"I understand," he says, his frustration evident. "That's why I keep pushing back because I refuse to live my life like my dad."

"I had no idea you were going through this," I mutter, and he responds with another brief smile, which oddly comforts me. "Has anyone else caught on to this?" I inquire, and he clears his throat.

"Not really," he shrugs. "Mark and Kyle are aware I have issues with my dad, but they don't know the details because I avoid discussing it."

"Your secret is safe with me," I assure him, continuing to enjoy the meal with my fork. He offers a thankful glance and a nod before resuming eating. "You know, you're quite the cook," I remark. He nearly chuckles at my comment.

"For someone who sells cookies, that's high praise," he teases, and I playfully roll my eyes.

"I'll remind you one more time: you did eat them," I retort, shaking my head, and he responds with a small smile.

"I'll probably hear about it forever," he sighs, shaking his head, and I quietly smile to myself.

I can't believe it, but I now hold a secret that only a few are privy to regarding Kent. It feels strange that he chose to confide in me out of all people. While I shouldn't get too carried away, I can't help but feel a sense of happiness that he shared his dinner and his thoughts with me.

Call me crazy, but I couldn't shake the feeling that everyone should like me. Even the most difficult one to please seemed to be softening towards me.