I don’t do that anymore.
The second floor is nice.
Mostly unfurnished, with only three rooms. A bathroom, a closed door, I’m assuming is Mike’s room, and another door that he opens and strolls into.
The room is clean, surprising me after the downstairs situation. White walls, a mattress, afternoon light coming through a window. Good-sized closet. Actual room to move around in.
Double the size of the dorm I share now.
It’s damn near peaceful after what I’ve been living in.
“Bed frame’s all yours. I’d probably get your own mattress, though,” Mike says, scrunching up his nose.
“Why?”
“Joel and his girlfriend were, uh.” He tilts his head, searching for the word, chuckling in a way that Ido notfind endearing. “Veryin love.”
I force a laugh because that’s what a normal person does when their potential roommate says something like that. They laugh, and makes a face, and move on.
I am a normal person.
The topic doesn’t remind me of anything. Definitely not an old truck parked somewhere dark. Of going along with things because I thought it was the only way I would ever be loved.
“Noted. I’ll get my own mattress.”
“So, you want it?”
Do I want it?
I look at the room. The window with a view of something that isn’t the building beside it. The actual closet. The bare walls that I could put anything on. A door I could close. A space that would be entirely mine.
But then I look at Mike.
He’s leaning against the hallway wall now. Half out of it from either the joint or just waking up, completely unbothered by his own existence. Eyeliner is smudged under his eyes like he wore it last night and didn’t bother to wash it off. He’s in a band. He’s comfortable in himself. In his sexuality, from what Ryan said.
He’s just—
He’s a lot.
And if I accept the room, he comes with it.
I think about my roommate. The silence. The missing stuff. The way I can’t take a full breath in my own room anymore, and my grades, beginning to suffer because of it.
The unanswered emails.
But I still don’t know ifthisis worth it.
“Actually,” I say, hoping it comes out casual. “Is it okay if I sleep on it?”
Something flickers across Mike’s face as he looks me up and down in a way that feels like he’s seeing every part of me. “Yeah. Sure.”
I nod, already moving toward the stairs. “Cool. I’ll text you.”
I probably won’t.
The dorm is empty when I get back, for once.
I drop my bag on the bed and stand in the middle of the room for a second, doing the thing I always do. Laptop. Chargers. Notebooks. Money.
