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This living situation just went from bad to catastrophic. But I'll be damned if I let him run me out of my territory. As long as I can lace up my skates and keep him in my rearview on the ice, I can handle having to see his smug face off of it.
For now.
4
RIOT
Over the next few days,London and I circle each other warily, two predators forced into close proximity. I've taken over the living room, my gear and books spread across every surface as I silently dare him to encroach. So far, he seems content keeping to his room except for occasional forays to grab food from the kitchen.
Navigating around each other is a delicate dance. I time my shower schedule around when I hear him get up to avoid any awkward bathroom encounters. I make sure to finish cooking and have my plate loaded before he can come scrounging for leftovers. In the rare moments we do cross paths, terse nods and averted eyes are the only acknowledgement given as we brush past, both unwilling to breach whatever fragile truce we've fallen into.
But the forced civility is exhausting. I find myself monitoring noises from his room when I should be sleeping, irrationally annoyed by his off-key singing in the shower or loud video game noises at two a.m. Don't get me started on his alarm—some shrill pop song I've had stuck in my head for days now despite not even knowing the words.
What the hell is watermelon sugar, anyway?
In those moments, it takes immense restraint not to storm across the hall and break his door down with an equipment check. But causing an all-out brawl would just undermine what little tolerance we've managed to build up.
So I settle for blasting my rap playlists when I know he can hear it, taking petty satisfaction in the resounding bang of his door closing.
Maybe creating some simple house rules would help establish boundaries and avoid future conflicts. But suggesting that level of civility makes my stomach roll with disgust. The thought of sitting down for some stereotypical roommate mediation session is unimaginable. What's next, chore wheels and movie nights? I think the fuck not.
I'll stick to cold shoulders over compromise, thanks. The less interaction, the better.
"He did what?" Tris almost chokes on his beer before dissolving into wheezing laughter. "Oh man, that's cold even for London. Did you find all your stuff?"
I scowl and take another swig of my IPA. "Eventually. He thought it was so damn funny to hide my gear around the apartment. Found one skate in the freezer this morning."
We're at our usual spot, a pub just off campus. I normally look forward to Thursday wings and brews with Tris and Eli, but tonight I'm wound tighter than my sticks. Between London's little prank and the mounting frustration of him squatting in my apartment, my temper is primed to blow.
"Okay, yeah, that's pretty uncalled for." Eli frowns, ever the empathetic one. "Have you tried talking to him? Maybe setting some boundaries about what's not cool?"
Tris snorts into his beer. "Riot? Talk about feelings? Might as well ask him to join the damn theater club."
"Hey, I talk about feelings," I protest half-heartedly. It's true though—the thought of having a reasonable discussion with London about anything makes my skin crawl.
"Uh huh," Tris's knowing look says he's not buying it. "Anyway, look at it this way—the fact that he's pushing your buttons means you're getting under his skin too. That's a win in my book."
Tris makes a fair point. London's clearly as on edge with this arrangement as I am if he's acting out. And I can work with mutual hostility better than pretending we'll ever see eye to eye.
Eli just sighs at Tris's logic but doesn't argue further. We steer the conversation to lighter topics, like which underclassman might make varsity this year and how badly we're gonna throttle Ravenloft when we face them.
But my mind keeps drifting back to London, poking at the frustration like a sore tooth. I can't stand feeling so on edge in my own home. This blows any notion of sanctuary or relaxation out of the water.
My phone vibrates with an incoming text. It's FallingDown. Seeing his name eases some of the tension knotting my shoulders. What I wouldn't give for the easy support of our conversations right now instead of the constant agitation London brings.
Eli notices me checking my phone. "Everything alright?"
"Yeah, it's just my friend checking in."
"Ooh, which friend?" Tris wiggles his eyebrows suggestively. "Got a hot date tonight?"
I roll my eyes, accustomed to Tris's constant teasing about my lackluster dating life. Yeah, chicks throw themselves at me and for the first couple of years I had fun with it, but now all the hookups are the same. Boring and unsatisfying. For me, not them. "It's not like that. We're just talking."
"Uh huh, sure." Tris's grin widens. "That's why you've been smiling at your phone all night, not because of a mystery girl."
"There's no girl," I insist, knowing I sound defensive.
Eli just smiles and claps my shoulder. "No pressure. You know we're just messing around. But seriously, don't let things with London ruin your night. Have another round and try to relax."
