Fell In Love With My Roomy Chapter 27

I've made a colossal mistake.

The atmosphere in the apartment has been tense for the past two weeks. I regret the argument with Kent, not just because I realized that day he was attempting to make amends, and I dismissed it. But also because my actions had soured the entire apartment's mood. Things were getting increasingly strained, and I felt compelled to do something about it.

I put on a façade of indifference, avoiding eye contact with Kent and refusing to show any remorse.

Yet, a part of me acknowledged that I had been right to call him out for his mistreatment. I never would have met him if we hadn't shared this living space, and I had always made an effort to steer clear of people who treated me poorly, dating back to high school.

I believed he had once felt the same way about me, but I was mistaken. He had become moody, rude, irritable, and, worst of all, messy. He consistently left behind colossal messes for me to clean up. Mark and Kyle were also growing weary of Kent's behavior and how he treated our shared living space.

I had just finished cleaning the kitchen, spending about 30 minutes loading dishes that weren't mine into the dishwasher.

The one redeeming quality of this apartment was that I got along well with Mark, Kyle, and some of their other friends. Abby and Chase, in particular, always enjoyed spending time with me. Chase had even invited me to join his study group, and we had become quite effective study partners.

In about 30 minutes, Kent was supposed to leave, and I needed to do some laundry. I sighed and headed to my room to fetch my laundry basket. Carrying it down the hall to the half-bath, I opened the washing machine, only to discover that my clothes were still damp. Whose laundry was this? They hadn't retrieved it for quite some time.

"Hey, Julianna," Mark greeted me with a smile, which brought one to my face as well.

Things hadn't turned out as awkward as I had initially anticipated after Mark had a girl over. We had sorted things out, and now it was a running joke that occasionally made us laugh.

"Hey, do you know whose stuff these are?" I asked, making a face.

"Kent's," he mumbled, prompting a sigh from me. "I've got to head to work, but we'll catch up later."

"Okay, see you," I replied, waving as he left.

I quickly closed the washing machine's door, straightened up, and walked down the hall to Kent's room.

I knocked once, but there was no response. This was infuriating because Kent wasn't some special person who could leave his belongings everywhere without consequence.

"Kent!" I knocked again to get his attention, but to my surprise, the door swung open abruptly, leaving my hand hanging awkwardly in the air. I took a deep breath because, when it came down to it, Kent could be quite intimidating.

"Julianna," he greeted me, and I rolled my eyes at his tone. He had started doing the same thing, addressing me by my full name after spotting my credit card. "What brings you here?" he asked, crossing his arms and flexing his biceps.

"I need to do laundry," I replied, trying to sound resolute.

"And you need my assistance, I presume?" He chuckled sarcastically, and my eyes narrowed while my lips tightened. "That's a shame, but I've got something going on right now."

"I don't care, go dry your clothes," I retorted, my frustration growing.

"No," he shrugged, and my eyes widened. "I'll do it when I'm ready, which will be in about 20 minutes. But if you're really in a hurry, you can move it."

What a jerk!

"I'm not your servant," I stated firmly, but he merely shrugged.

"You had me fooled, always helping me clean up," he shrugged again, attempting to suppress a smirk. "Well, if that's all you needed, you should be on your way," he said, closing the door in my face. I stood there, utterly flabbergasted and seething with anger.

I'll take care of his belongings.

Returning to the laundry room, I retrieve the empty basket he had left at the base of the washing machine. I promptly place his damp clothes in it, opting not to use the washer.

I couldn't recall the last time I had been so unkind to someone else. It weighed on my conscience, but I couldn't bring myself to care.

I put my own clothes in the washer, added some detergent, and started the machine. I moved Kent's basket out of the way before heading back to my room. Chase informed me of his impending visit via a message on my phone. Grabbing my books and laptop, I made my way to the dining room.

A few minutes later, he knocked on the door and entered the apartment with his bag.

"Hey, Julianna," he greeted me warmly as he closed the door.

"Hey."

"How was your week?"

I agreed with him that it had been "kind of long." "And it's not getting any shorter. I have my first paper due on Tuesday, and I'd like to finish it so I can turn it in."

"Are you a one-shot kind of person?" he inquired.

"Yeah, I tend to do the readings and prep ahead of time, but once I know what I want to write about, it's not too difficult," I replied nonchalantly, shrugging my shoulders as I gestured for him to take a seat. "I just need to put on my blue-light glasses."

He nodded, and I turned, heading back down the hallway to retrieve them from my desk drawer.

I had found that I could work more effectively when someone else was around. They served as a motivator without even realizing it. After a few minutes of focused work, I heard the washer chime, indicating it was time to transfer the clothes to the dryer.

The stackable washer and dryer were always a bit too high for me to reach comfortably, but I usually tossed the clothes in and called Kyle if I needed help getting the rest out.

Returning to the table, I put my glasses back on, pulled my hair back, and resumed working.

"How's it going?" Chase's question pulled me from my thoughts, and I shrugged.

"So far, so good, but I haven't made much progress yet," I admitted, acknowledging that I had only read the introductory section.

"How long does it need to be?"

"Fifteen hundred words," I replied, confessing that I had to revisit my sources to find a highlighted section. "It's not too bad." He smiled at me, appearing thoughtful.

"What?" I asked, puzzled by his intense gaze.

"When you wear those glasses, you look so different," he commented softly. I smiled and adjusted my glasses on my nose.

"Julianna!" A loud shout made me jump, and Kent came storming down the hallway toward me. "What the hell did you do with my laundry?" he demanded, and I struggled not to laugh.

"You told me to move it, so I did," I replied, mimicking him by placing my hands under my chin and squinting my eyes. "You should be more specific."

"Who do you think you are? Now I have to rewash the entire load, even though it could have been drying this whole time."

"I don't fit into your plans," I retorted, reiterating my point. "Maybe you should keep that in mind."

A look crossed his face, as though he had just realized something, and I immediately stood up because I knew what he was about to do. He rushed down the hall, and I chased after him, entering the bathroom. When he reached for the dryer handle, I leaped and used my elbow to keep the door shut, grabbing his wrist in the process.

"Stop it," I admonish him. "It'll be done soon, and you already need to redo your laundry." I come up with a new strategy and grip both sides of the dryer with my arms, standing on my tiptoes, which looks rather comical, but I'm not quite tall enough to handle this properly.

"Julianna," he grumbles, persistently trying to pry the door open, but I shake my head.

"No, it's staying right here," I assert firmly, and finally, he ceases his pulling and withdraws his hand. I'm relieved because I had thought he might attempt to snatch my laundry and be done with it. I'm locked in a sort of standoff with this massive machine, and if he genuinely wanted to dislodge me, it wouldn't take much effort.

Then, to my surprise, he begins to tickle my ribs, causing me to let out an uncharacteristic scream. I release my hold on the dryer instantly. I burst into laughter so intense that tears stream down my face, attempting to squirm away from him, but he refuses to relent.

"Stop!" I tug at his hands and plead with him. My plea doesn't sound all that convincing; I sound as though I'm enjoying it, even though I couldn't desire anything more. "What the heck, stop!"