I carefully peel his arm off my waist, holding my breath as he shifts slightly but doesn’t wake up.When I finally manage to slip out of bed, I sigh in relief.Glancing over at him one last time—just to make sure he’s still asleep—I quietly step out of my room and into the hallway.
The mess from last night is just as bad as I expected, and maybe even worse.Three beer cans are scattered haphazardly on the floor, and I can already imagine the state of the living room.I drag a hand through my hair as I make my way there.It’s only past 7 in the morning, but the aftermath of the party is far from over.Fox’s friends are still passed out—Blaze, lying sprawled on the couch with some blonde girl tucked into his side.A half-naked guy, who I don’t even recognize, is on the floor, his arm dangling awkwardly across the rug.The apartment looks more like a frat house than an actual place where people live.
I shake my head in disbelief.This is disgusting.The smell of alcohol and cigarettes clings to the air, and as I enter the kitchen, I’m hit with a wave of nausea.Half-eaten chips, bottles of beer, and cigarette butts litter the counter.I can’t believe this is my life now.I know I need to have a serious conversation with Fox today.This isn’t something I can live with anymore.
By the time I tiptoe back to my room, Fox has shifted in my bed.He’s now lying on his back, one arm draped over his eyes, his breathing still steady.I pause for a second, staring at him again—unable to stop the conflicted emotions that swirl inside me.
Why does he make me feel this way?
I don’t even know him—he’s been nothing but trouble since I moved in, yet here I am, torn between irritation and an unwanted attraction I don’t understand.I walk into the bathroom, trying to shake off the confusion and brush my teeth.There’s no point in showering right now; I’ll be spending most of the morning cleaning up this place and washing my sheets.Hopefully, I can get Fox to help clean up too—if he’s even sober enough to comprehend the disaster his party caused.
When I return to the bedroom, Fox is sitting on the edge of my bed, his head in his hands.His posture screams of a hangover, and the way he groans quietly tells me he’s not in the best shape this morning.After a moment, he lifts his head, and our eyes lock.
“What the fuck are you doing in my room?”he asks, his voice hoarse and disoriented.Is he serious right now?
I cross my arms and lean against the wall.“You’re in my room, Fox,” I say slowly, emphasizing each word.
“What?”He looks around the room, his eyes scanning every object.Slowly, realization dawns on him.He stands abruptly, his body tense, and my eyes unwillingly trace his movements.He’s still shirtless, still way too attractive for someone so awful.
“What did you do?”he demands, his voice dripping with suspicion.
I narrow my eyes at him.“I should be asking you that.I woke up, and you were sleepingin my bed.” I leave out the part about his arm around my waist, knowing it’ll only escalate things.
Fox’s eyes widen in disbelief.“Why the fuck would I be in your room?”
I shrug, my irritation growing.“Maybe because you were so wasted last night, you couldn’t tell the difference between your room and mine.”
His face flushes with embarrassment, though he quickly hides it behind a mask of anger.“What did you do to me?”he spits.
My patience snaps.“What the hell is wrong with you?You think I’d do something to you just because I woke up next to you?God, you’re such an asshole.”
Fox moves closer, his blue eyes narrowing as he towers over me.“Stay the fuck away from me.”
I raise my chin defiantly, refusing to let him intimidate me.“I’m not the one who ended up inyourbed, remember?”I counter, my voice steady despite the tension crackling between us.
Fox glares at me, his jaw clenched.“I wasn’t sure before, but now I’m fucking sure.You’re gay.”
I laugh, the sound bitter and dry.“Your reasoning skills are seriously lacking.”
Before I can react, Fox shoves me hard against the wall.The impact sends a jolt of pain down my back, but I refuse to show it.“Fuck you,” he mutters before storming out of my room.
I rub my back, wincing.He’s such a jerk.This has nothing to do with me being gay—Fox is just a terrible person, full stop.
After finishing my laundry, I finally muster the courage to leave my room.
I’m starving.But stepping into the living room feels like crossing enemy lines.I already know who’s going to be out there—Fox and his ever-present entourage, taking up space like they own the damn apartment.I hate how small they make me feel in a place that’s supposed to bemine, too.
But I can’t avoid them forever.
Sure enough, as I step out, the scene is exactly what I expected: Fox is on the couch, cigarette balanced between his lips, eyes locked on the TV.Blaze is beside him, gaming controller in hand, elbows resting on his knees like he’s been glued there all morning.Some blonde girl I’ve never seen before is curled up with her head in Fox’s lap, giggling at something only she can hear.Her fingers trail up and down his forearm like she’s marking territory.
Carter is slouched on the floor, texting with one hand, a cigarette dangling lazily from the other.
It smells like smoke and stale cologne.I inhale through my nose and try not to gag.
I’mdefinitelymoving out this week.
I say nothing as I walk past them.Just keep my eyes on the floor and head straight for the kitchen, praying I can get in and out without drawing attention.Not that they care.They never say hi, and I don’t bother pretending I want them to.
