Fell In Love With My Roomy Chapter 39

I was taken aback by how sensitive Kent could be. I had always assumed that Kent disliked people getting close to him or touching him, and I thought he was merely tolerating my presence because he didn't like me at all.

As we lay in his dimly lit bedroom, I began to realize that the brusque manner in which he spoke to me wasn't necessarily a reflection of his feelings toward me. It was just his way, but deep down, he did care to some extent. If he genuinely disliked me, he wouldn't have shared stories about Dartmouth or football, driven me to work, assisted me in getting back at Piper, or been here with me right now.

I struggled to recall the last time I had been in bed with another guy, and it had been years since I had been this physically close to someone else. The way I felt around Kent was unlike anything I had ever experienced before, and most of the time, I couldn't determine whether that was a positive or negative thing.

The soothing circles he was tracing on my back had an almost immediate calming effect, and I stopped shedding tears. He allowed me the space to release my emotions and work through them.

"Feeling better?" I nodded in response to his question. "Will this help?" He seemed uncertain about whether the answer would be yes or no. But one thing was clear to me: this wasn't the usual Kent I was accustomed to.

"Yeah," I whispered, and he acknowledged my response with a nod. "Do you want to talk about something?" I asked softly, feeling my heartbeat gradually returning to a more normal rhythm. "I don't mind discussing whatever you want."

"Um, sure." He shrugged. "Would you like to hear how Mark, Kyle, Carlo, and I ended up living together?" I agreed when he posed the question. "Well, my freshman year, my roommate was Mark. We had a lot in common and got along famously, so I couldn't have asked for a better random assignment." I took a deep breath as his hand continued to trace those comforting circles on my back.

"So, one evening, we decided to check out a party to see what was happening. Mark knew someone on the football team who was hosting it for the fourth consecutive year. We went, and it was a wild gathering full of lively people, but we had a great time. After a few hours, the police showed up, which was pretty much expected at the start of the academic year and at a loud party."

"Right," I softly nodded.

"Well, we were underage and didn't want any trouble, so we made a dash upstairs to avoid the commotion. Upstairs, we stumbled upon Kyle, who we later learned had attended with his high school girlfriend, but she had just broken up with him and left."

"That's unfortunate." I chuckled when I mumbled my response.

"Yeah, I thought so," he shrugged.

We informed him about the police downstairs, and the three of us hurried into the room at the end of the hallway. When we entered, we found Carlo seated in the corner with a girl on his lap. They appeared to be having a heated argument, and we knew we were walking into a situation that was about to escalate. So, as we heard the police boots approaching the door in the hallway, we turned to leave!"

"What did you do?" I asked with newfound interest in the story, and he laughed.

"They were banging on the door, so I locked it to buy us some time." I nodded in agreement as he recounted the events. "This caught Carlo's and the girl's attention, and they noticed that we were all standing in the room with them. Carlo inquired about who we were and why we were in there. Mark whispered that we were trying to hide from the police." He recounted it with a faint chuckle.

"Carlo used to reside there before we met him. He was a year ahead of us and had moved in with some friends from his program. So, he did us a solid and stuffed the three of us into his closet. I'm not sure what happened to the girl. But he let the police in and told them he was simply trying to get some peace and quiet in his own room during the party. They looked around but didn't open the closet, which was a good thing, and they eventually left."

"What happened next?"

"We sneaked out and hid in his room until the police left their house. We talked for hours about everything under the sun. Most of us were drunk and making each other laugh by doing stupid things. This made the girl he was going to kiss mad, so she waited in the corner until she could leave. Then we spent more time together, and we all realized we thought each other was funny," he says with a shrug. "We found a place and decided we all wanted to live there."

"That's rather endearing," I chuckle and shrug, and he laughs. "You guys seemed really close."

"We had a blast," he agrees. "Carlo, though, was a year ahead of us, so we all knew he was going to move out. We hadn't really thought about him leaving, so it was sad when he did last spring."

"I do feel like I've changed things around here," I whisper, and he shakes his head.

"No, I don't think so," he assures me. "I actually think it's a good thing we got you instead of some weirdo who creeps me out. Having you here isn't any worse than when Carlo was living here; it's just different. We make an effort to remember that you're a girl."

"What do you mean?" I ask, raising an eyebrow.

"Well, nobody walks down the hallway wearing just a towel after a shower anymore," he says with a shrug. "We don't discuss girls in front of you, and we avoid talking about locker room stuff out loud. You haven't overheard anyone fooling around, except for that one time with Mark, right?"

"No," I sigh and confess, "yes," and he nods.

"When it was just the four of us guys living here, it was kind of like a frat house. It's not that we think you can't handle it or that we want to exclude you. It's more about acknowledging that this is your space too, and we don't want it to turn into a stereotypical bachelor pad," he explains. "We want you to feel comfortable living here, even though we're all guys, and Carlo emphasized that before he left."

"Really?" I laugh and inquire, and he nods. "I didn't even notice, but I suppose you guys do all that stuff when I'm not at home anyway," I say with a shrug.

"Sometimes I wish I weren't at home when you're not," he admits. "Mark has a lot of girls over, and our rooms share a wall."

"I had no idea," I confess, starting to feel a bit better. "I always had a different image of Mark. I never thought he'd be the one constantly trying to hook up."

"You thought it was me, didn't you?"

"Actually, Kyle," I shrug. "Kent, it's not just about you," I say, looking up at him with a shy smile.

"So, it's clear you're feeling better, back to your quick-witted self," he teases, making my cheeks flush as I smile bashfully. "So, what about Mark?"

"I don't know, he seems like he's either too busy or too put-together for that," I shrug. "In my mind, he's not the kind of person who would do that."

"You do know that Mark was raised as a Mormon, right?" he asks, and I nod. "He was very reserved because they're taught that any kind of sex is wrong. I think he's just trying to make up for lost time."

"I see what you mean," I nod. "It must have been tough sharing a room."

"Yeah, when your roommate is getting intimate, it's always an interesting night in the dorm," he admits. "I used to crash in Kyle's room until it was over. He had a single bed, and a few times I ended up sleeping in his desk chair."

"You're a good person," I tell him, and he smiles.

"I try to be," he replies.

"I'm serious," I insist. "This is much nicer than I could have ever expected. Even back home, I was usually in my room by myself. I appreciate your kindness."

"Don't mention it," he says reassuringly, and I rest my head on his chest, listening to the quiet of the apartment. "Just to clarify, you don't think I'm the worst, right?"

"No," I admit.

"You didn't think I'd be the roommate hanging out with random girls, did you?"

"True."

"Fascinating," I laugh at his remark.

"What's so fascinating about it?"

"Because that's what everyone else assumes," he murmurs, and I shake my head.

"I don't think it's fair when people label others and put them in boxes. I try my best not to make assumptions until someone shares their story with me," I reflect, pausing briefly. "I also believe you've moved on from your past experiences, as you mentioned you were trying to make different choices."

"That's true," he acknowledges with a casual shrug.

"I mean, you might also have certain preferences," I continue.

"Picky?" He repeats, chuckling.

"No, I don't mean it in a shallow way," I clarify, my habit of speaking my thoughts aloud coming through. "I don't think you're the type of person who'd be with just anyone, anytime. Timing matters more to you than who."

"I completely agree," he nods, offering another nonchalant shrug. "I was a bit different in high school, but when I got to college and saw what Mark was up to, it felt like looking in a mirror. It made me pause and reevaluate. After I had that accident and broke my back, well, let's just say I couldn't for a while."

"I hadn't even considered that," I admit with a small chuckle.

"Breaking your back has a lot of downsides," he jests, rolling his eyes. "I'm sorry, I shouldn't be discussing this with you."

"No, it's alright," I assure him. "It lightens the mood and takes my mind off things."

"Well, that's good to hear," he says with a shrug. I sigh, surprised by how much I'm enjoying this conversation. I never liked discussing personal matters or anyone's sexual life, but I appreciate knowing more about him. I like that he doesn't hold back from sharing things with me.

"Can I ask you something?" I inquire in a hushed tone, and he nods.

"Of course."

"Does it bother you that Mark plays football for Brown?" I venture cautiously, fearing his response.

"It used to," he admits softly. "Not anymore; I'm indifferent now. I haven't played in years, and it's not a part of who I am anymore. But when we first met, it was tough. Seeing someone else do something I once aspired to was challenging," he whispers, and I feel his arms around me tighten.

Clearly, this is a difficult topic for him to broach.

"But I also realized that our friendship initially formed around football. It was something we both enjoyed, so we watched games together. I think he might believe I'm just a really big fan."

"Why haven't you told him?" I place my hand on his chest, softly asking, "What's holding you back?" I can feel his rapid heartbeat beneath my palm.

"It's complicated," he says with a shrug.

"But what did you mean?"

"You're more approachable," he murmurs, shifting his hand from my back to rest it on mine. It feels massive, nearly covering my entire hand. Why did he act this way? It's somewhat easier to talk to you."

"You think so?" I ask, stifling a small yawn as sleepiness creeps in.

"Julianna, you're a kind person," he whispers, running his hand up and down my back. "I just wish we had more in common." My eyelids grow heavier.

"You are," I mumble, snuggling closer to his side.

"That's sweet of you to say, honey," he murmurs softly, making it increasingly difficult for me to stay awake. This will likely be a one-time occurrence, as our other roommates are returning tomorrow. I won't be able to visit him like this or share these moments again.