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I don’t know what catches me off guard more, the fact she thought of me at dinner time or the heart she left next to her name. I shouldn’t care if my new roommate expects me home for dinner, but suddenly I do.
And I shouldn’t really care about the heart, but seeing it next to her name warms me in ways it shouldn’t.
five
Thea
For the fourth time in a row, I find myself waking up in the middle of the night. I’ve been all over the place this week, what with starting my classes a couple of days ago and moving to a new house and meeting new people, and the excitement and adrenaline has caught up with me. While I thought I’d be exhausted and would fall into a deep slumber as soon as my head hit the pillow, my mind has been running overtime in the quiet of the night. The only way I’d be able to get some sleep when I was younger was to drink some hot milk with honey, so I decide to try the old trick now in hopes it will work. The last thing I want to do is turn up to class tomorrow dead on my feet.
I quietly creep down the stairs, trying not to wake my housemates. These guys need all the sleep they can get given their hectic schedules. Since school started, they’ve been up at the crack of dawn almost every day for pre-season weight training. I should be used to it since Jude has been playing hockey for years, but NU hockey is a whole other level. I can’t even maintain a gym membership for longer than two weeks, so I admire their dedication.
As I reach the ground floor, a faint glow of light emits from the kitchen. I’m not surprised when I walk in and see a dark figure sitting at the breakfast bar. Dressed in black jeans, a black long-sleeved shirt rolled up at the sleeves, and a black cap on his head, I’d be worried this was an intruder if he wasn’t currently diving into a familiar plate of food.
“Hi,” I say to him, making my presence known. Kyler startles suddenly before swallowing his mouthful of food and slowly looking up at me.
“Do you always make a habit of creeping up on people?” he asks, his voice a deep, husky tone which resonates through me.
“I do when I think they’re a figment of my imagination,” I tell him, hoping he’ll pick up on my playful snark. I may as well call him out on his notable absences while I have the chance. Kyler takes another mouthful of the chicken casserole I made earlier. As usual, he wasn’t at home when the rest of us ate dinner, and as usual, I plated a portion for him and left it on his shelf in the fridge. Given the fact there is always an empty plate in the dishwasher the following morning, I know he eats whatever I leave. It helps to ease the unfamiliar burn of disappointment I have at him seemingly not making the effort to be more present. No one wants to share a house with someone who gives the impression they don’t want you there, regardless of what the others tell me.
Either he doesn’t hear what I say, or he chooses to ignore my comment, because he doesn’t grace me with a response other than a small smirk. Having a conversation with this guy is like getting blood out of a stone and once more I find myself wondering what his story is. I reach up to get a mug from the cupboard before trying again but he beats me to it.
“Trouble sleeping?” he asks, indicating to the mug in my hand.
“It’s been a hectic week. My mind can’t switch off.”
“I hear a good cup of hot chocolate can help solve insomnia,” he tells me and if I’m not mistaken, I detect a hint of a smile in his voice.
“Good to know, but this girl likes to eat healthy, so I’ll stick to warm milk and honey for now.”
Kyler doesn’t respond and I wonder if this is a breakthrough in this weird strangers-in-the-night relationship we seem to have, or whether it’s just another one-off conversation lasting more than five minutes. Either way, he doesn’t make an effort to continue, and leaves me to make my drink and to try and get something more out of him.
“I’m glad you eat what I leave for you. I mean, I assume you don’t go without food, but it’s still a relief to know you’re getting at least one meal a day.” And now, I’m blabbering for the sake of filling the awkward silence.
“It’s really nice of you Thea, and don’t get me wrong, I appreciate it, but you don’t have to cook for me every day.”
“It’s no trouble,” I tell him, “I’m cooking for the others, so I might as well make a bit extra for you.”
“No, please,” Kyler continues, and the tone of his voice has me turning around to face him. His meadow-green eyes meet mine, and for the first time, I notice the exhaustion in his demeanor. Gray circles under his eyes, eyebrows drawn together, his body slumped as he rests his arms on the counter—he looks as if he carries the weight of the world on his shoulders.
“I can’t . . . I don’t contribute to the grocery bill, so it’s not fair to include me in meals.”
“Surely you contribute in other ways?” I ask, curious as to how on earth Jude, Devon and Nolan agreed to become roommates with this guy.
Kyler shrugs and takes a gulp from the glass of water sitting next to his plate. “We have an arrangement,” is all he says by way of explanation.
“Well, maybe we should come to our own arrangement,” I counter, hoping he’ll take the bait.
Kyler stands and takes his now-empty plate to the sink, rinsing it under the faucet before placing it and his glass in the dishwasher. Closing it, he leans against the counter and crosses his arms, and my eyes are instantly drawn to his defined muscles straining against his shirt.
“What kind of arrangement?” he asks, and I feel slightly triumphant because his curiosity seems to be piqued.
“I continue making you a plate of food,” I say slowly, giving myself time to come up with something that will work for him. “And . . . you pay me back in kind with this ‘good cup of hot chocolate’ you’ve told me about.”
Kyler laughs and the change in him is startlingly obvious. A brooding Kyler is one thing, but a laughing one is a sight to behold. His body relaxes, the stiffness in his shoulders falling away. His face transforms into a stress-free version of the one who has been constantly scowling during the few times I’ve seen him, and he looks like a younger, more relaxed version of himself. I immediately make it my mission to try and make him laugh more often.
“What happened to being the girl who ‘likes to eat healthy’?” he asks, using air quotes with his fingers as he repeats my own words back to me.
I take a leaf out of his book and shrug my shoulders as I reply. “Maybe she likes to live life on the edge every once in a while.”
