Fell In Love With My Roomy Chapter 26

My focus at work has never been so scattered as it is right now. I keep trying to concentrate on the water, but my heart rate seems to have a mind of its own, fluctuating without any apparent cause. I can't pinpoint what's bothering me.

Part of my unease stems from overhearing a conversation involving one of my roommates when I shouldn't have. It's been on my mind every time there's a moment of silence, and I'm dreading going home to face Mark.

I'm pretty sure I confessed to Kent during our car ride that I can be quite spoiled. Figuring out the right balance when it comes to intimacy has always been a struggle for me. I don't have a strong desire for it, but I also don't want to feel like a social outcast for not craving it. I'd rather not discuss it, but when I'm forced to, my thoughts become all too clear.

Back in high school, I only engaged in it a few times with my boyfriends. When they wanted it, it was usually hurried and not particularly enjoyable. I never truly understood what it felt like to derive pleasure from it. Perhaps I did, and that was the extent of my experiences.

During my shift, my mind rarely wandered to thoughts of intimacy. People my age seem to have an extensive list of casual encounters and dating apps to keep them satisfied. I can't help but wonder what's wrong with me.

My biggest lesson from my past experiences with intimacy is that I should never engage in it if I'm not genuinely interested. It just wasn't worth it, and I wish I hadn't done it during high school.

"Julianna." I turn to see Michaela approaching. "The swim session is over. Could you please inform everyone?" She asks, and I blow my whistle, clear my throat, and do as she requested.

"Sorry," I mutter.

"You've been nibbling on that whistle's edge for ten minutes. What's on your mind?" She inquires, and I shake my head.

"Nothing, I'm fine." I reply, shaking my head again to emphasize the point.

"Have you done your laps this week?" She queries, and I shake my head.

"Not yet," I shrug. I'm required to do cardio every week since I'm a lifeguard.

"Just remember to log them by Sunday, alright?" I nod and clear my throat in response. "Why don't you take care of the chlorine, and I'll ask Brittany to clean the pool?"

"Okay." I sigh and remove my rescue tube, placing it on a rack in the main office.

As promised, Michaela made me a supervisor. Over the past few weeks, she's been observing me to help boost my confidence in this role.

I've always felt a bit nervous about handling the chlorine. Each pool has its nuances, and our pool requires us to perform the task in a cramped closet at the end of the hallway while wearing safety gear. It's not the most pleasant chore, but I get it done quickly and exit just in time to see Brittany finishing up cleaning the pool before leaving.

"You can go too, Julianna. You did a great job today." She smiles, and I return the gesture. "I've got some office work to take care of, but I'll see you next time you're in."

"That sounds great, Michaela, thanks." I smile, and she waves me off.

Before leaving, I slip my shoes back on and put my jacket over my lifeguard uniform. But as I grab my coat from the hook, I hear one of the metal doors close, and footsteps echoing across the pool deck catch my attention.

"Excuse me, but the pool's—" I stop mid-sentence when I spot a familiar figure walking across the deck. "—closed," I inform Kent, who nods and surveys the area. Why is Kent here?

"I said I'd pick you up." He casually shrugs. "Then I got a bit bored waiting and realized I've never been inside a pool before."

"Well, I'm heading out." I shake my head and sigh. "If you're planning to stay, take off your shoes."

"Seriously?" He questions, and I confirm that it's serious with a nod.

"Yes, some folks do walk around without shoes," I reply, urging him to stop, but he offers an unnecessary salute and instructs them to leave. I roll my eyes and retreat to my office, shutting down the computer and slipping on my running shoes.

"I guess that's it," he says, standing by the door and sighing. I nod in agreement.

"Yep, that's all," I confirm as I guide him out of the office.

"Why don't you give me a little tour?"

"You're acting quite peculiar tonight; let's go," I huff, switching off the lights and leading him to the separate entrance we use to access the pool. Once he's put his shoes back on, I swing open the door and usher him towards the exit. "Why did you come in?" I inquire, and he just shrugs.

"I wanted to catch a live Baywatch show," he teases, and I roll my eyes.

"It's pretty dull in there, no girls running in slow motion with swimsuits," I remark, shaking my head and expressing my confusion over his unusual behavior. "I'm curious about what's gotten into you tonight."

"Whence?" I laugh at his question.

"Just a friendly, slightly odd manner," I respond, and he merely shrugs.

"At the beach, you mentioned you didn't like me because I hadn't revealed much about myself." He states something, leaving me momentarily speechless. "I'll show you another side."

I sigh and accompany him through the front door, baffled by his abrupt change in demeanor.

"Look, Julianna," he says, gently tugging me towards his car by the shoulder. "I already know how you feel about me," he tells me, and I turn around to face him, gasping. Those eyes are truly captivating.

"No, you really don't," I reply, feeling somewhat guilty. It's as if the warmth from his hands has seeped into my shoulders. "I didn't mean that, it wasn't true. I shouldn't have said it," I mumble, my mouth growing increasingly dry. Is this what it's like to feel so awkward around someone that coherent thoughts escape you?

"You think I'm more of a player than I actually am," he states, making me blink in surprise.

"What?" I raise my eyebrows and inquire. "You believe it matters to me who you're involved with?" I ask, delivering the question with such conviction that it almost seems as if I'm telling the truth. Kent's promiscuous behavior and the way he treated girls were far from my favorite traits, but they weren't the primary reasons I disliked being around him.

"Kent, it's not about who you're with; it's about how you treat me. I'd prefer you to be the kindest person ever and have numerous partners than continually make fun of me or loudly complain whenever I'm asked to do something."

"I..." He attempts to respond but falters, and my heart begins to race even faster.

"Do you have anything to say about that?" I inquire, biting the inside of my cheek in frustration. "Why on earth would you think that would bother me?"

"I-I don't know, I thought maybe you'd heard the rumors and assumed I was sketchy," he stammers, and I shake my head.

"You think I'm some old-fashioned, close-minded person," I whisper, even though it's true. "You think I'm a simpleton who disapproves of people having multiple partners."

"No, I—"

"Oh my god," I sigh, pushing his arms away and turning to walk in the opposite direction.

"Julianna!" He calls after me. "Come with me." I hear his footsteps on the sidewalk, his heavy gait. After all those weeks of questioning if I'd misjudged him, he seems to think his only fault is a tarnished reputation. In the end, it only makes things more complicated.

"Kent, it's not about your lifestyle!" I raise my voice, causing him to halt his run, his chest heaving. "Just because I don't share your views on casual hookups doesn't mean I find it revolting, whether it's your thing or not," I assert firmly, arms crossed. "I dislike you because you make me feel miserable, regret moving into this apartment, and every time I enter a room, you distance yourself from me. I hate that I'm uncertain how to behave around you because you always snap and say hurtful things, thinking I won't notice."

"Julianna, you're blowing this out of proportion," he defends himself, and I blink.

"I've been going through hell for a month now." I let him have it, watching his eyes widen in disbelief. "It's been a month since I asked you how your day was, and since then, you've been rude and acting strangely. You constantly belittle me and use me as an excuse to avoid Piper, who only tolerates you because of me. Then, every four or five days, you suddenly want to talk or walk me home or chase me around, and I'm sick of it," I vent, unloading what's been on my mind, and it feels liberating. "And I'm done feeling guilty about things I shouldn't."

As I walk away, a knot tightens in my stomach. I had reached a strange level of tolerance with Kent, even patting myself on the back for finally learning how to communicate with an adult man like an equal. I have no idea what went wrong.

I make my way home along the sidewalk, refusing to give in to his persistence any longer. I'm relieved when he stops yelling at me and doesn't insist on driving me a mere three minutes down the road. He hasn't been kind to me, picking on me whenever I felt vulnerable. I'm tired of always having to be nice and dreading going home.

I'm ready to be as tough as he is. It's been about a month. I don't have to like being around him, and I won't shoulder all the blame anymore. I won't keep telling myself that it's all my fault, and that if I just changed something about myself, we might get along better.

"Julianna." I hear a car slowing down on the street parallel to the sidewalk. "Julia, get in the car," he calls out, refusing to give up. I'm too furious to comply. I can't believe I let this jerk get under my skin so much. Curse that gene that makes people happy.

"Go home, Kent," I mutter to myself, continuing my stride.

"Honey, get in the car," he persists. When he says it, a chill runs down my spine. I stop in my tracks, turning to face him.

"Don't you dare call me that," I retort. "Leave me alone," I add firmly and resume walking.

As I expected, he remains in the car, ignoring the honking cars behind him.

"Sweetheart? Sweetheart?"

Was the intention to make me feel bad? I don't know, and I won't let myself interpret it any other way because it would only make me feel worse.

Mark is tidying up the kitchen when I enter my apartment. His gaze locks onto me, and I feel my cheeks flush.

"Julianna?" He addresses me, sounding concerned. I shake my head and kick off my shoes just as Kent's car door slams shut outside. "Julianna? What's going on?" he asks, his worry evident.

"I'm sorry I got home early," I mumble. "I'm so exhausted that I'm just going to bed." He sets his things down as I tell him so.

"You did this?" He inquires, and I confirm it. "Oh damn, I thought it was Kent or Kyle. I didn't—"

"I don't want to talk about it, Mark," I cut him off with a wave of my hand. "Don't beat yourself up," I convey as I head toward my room. Just as I reach my bedroom, Kent walks in through the screen door. He locks eyes with me, but I shake my head. "I'm going to sleep," I offer a soft response and begin to retreat.

"What's Julianna going to do?" Kent inquires, and I dart into my room to compose myself. I need to regain my composure because I've been lost in my thoughts and it's time to return to reality.

But deep down, I knew I meant every word I said to him. It didn't seem fair that he could hold onto his anger for so long and then occasionally do something nice that made me second-guess myself. It wasn't fair, and I realized we couldn't maintain a friendship after that. At least now, I wouldn't have to keep trying.

At least I could finally put an end to the constant worry about what he thought of me.