But then he turns on me, eyes burning, and spits out, “I couldn’t give a fuck what you think, Thatcher.”
I rear back like he just swung at me. I mean, sure, we’re not exactly besties, but I didn’t think we were on ‘fuck you’ levels of hostility.
“What’s your problem?” I shoot back, standing up as that hot rush of adrenaline hits me all at once.
And then he gives me this look, this twisted, smug little smirk like he knows something I don’t, and shakes his head. “You’re all just a bunch of sorry-ass excuses for players and even worse fucking roommates. Don’t come at me about my shit when you haven’t even dealt with your own.”
Then he turns and stomps upstairs, slamming his door behind him with enough force to shake the walls.
There’s a thick silence before Mack finally says what we’re all thinking.
“What the actual fuck?”
And all I can do is shake my head, still stunned. Because yeah, what the fuck indeed. I don’t respond right away because, honestly, I’m still trying to figure out what just happened.
That whole thing spiraled fast, like blink-and-you-miss-it fast, and now I feel like someone dumped a whole gallon of cold water down my back and slapped a ‘fuck you’ sticker on my forehead for good measure.
And maybe what really gets me is that Sam looked at me like he knew something I didn’t. Like he had this little secret burning behind his teeth and he was one deep breath away from spitting it out just to watch me unravel.
“Okay, what the actual fuck was that?” I finally ask, the words scraping out of my throat as I drop back down onto the couch.
Terry doesn’t answer immediately, and that makes it worse, because if even Terry is speechless, then I know we’ve crossed into uncharted territory. He just sits there for a beat, jaw tense and brow furrowed trying to find the logic in Sam’s spiral.
“I don’t know,” he finally mutters, “I really don’t fucking know.”
I walkinto physiology class feeling about aspresentas a zombie. My brain is still foggy from last night’s lack of good sleep, my shoulder is still a little sore, and emotionally…I feel a little like a mess.
But then I see Jacob already in the room, sitting in his usual spot a few rows in, and I feel this strange little tug in my chest.
So I do something I absolutely do not normally do.
I sit beside him.
Not across the aisle. Not somewhere near the exit so I can make a quick escape if the professor decides to call attendance early.
No. I sit right fucking next to him.
My brain has approximately one functional thought left in it, which is either a sign of emotional growth or I’m just really fucking tired. Still not sure which.
He glances up from his notes with this adorable slightly startled look. And I feel this weird little jolt in my chest as his cheeks heat up to be that pretty red again.
His hair falls perfectly into place even though it definitely did not fall into place on purpose, and those eyes look at me for a split second before he glances back at his notes like nothing’s up.
And in that split second I realize something that makes my brain gouhhhh whoa.
I don’t know if I sat beside him because he’s Hughie’s best friend and I feel like that might give me some indirect insight into whatever emotional hurricane Hughie’s quietly drowning in, or if it’s because Jacob has this almost infuriating calmness that makes his presence comforting.
But also?
Holy shit.
He’spretty.
Like, not “oh he’s kind of cute if you squint and tilt your head” pretty. No. I mean “probably got scouted for modeling in a Target while buying deodorant” pretty.
Sharp jaw, clear skin, stupidly full lips, and a smile that looks like it was built by the gods to ruin lives. The kind of guy who probably makes professors offer extra credit just for existing.
And then there's the brain. The guy is scary smart. He’s top of the class, probably knows the syllabus better than the prof does. I swear I lose IQ points just sitting next to him.
