Rival Roommates

16 ☁︎

My breath stops in my throat. My mouth falls open but no words come out. Not a whisper. Not a snarky comment. Not even a well prepared insult that usually rolls off my tongue like routine. My body stills and shock unfurls around me like the first time I felt out of place. Out of body, almost living vicariously in my own life.

Two bodies in a bed. Drugs in a bag. Me drowning in my tears in the only sanctuary I had at the time.

No. We're not there again, and I'm not falling down that rabbit hole again.

My ears are welling with tears at just the memory and I try to internally shake the thoughts free, to instead focus on the dimly lit room we're in and how we can possibly get the fuck out right now. The thudding of my heart in my ears is and the small breaths we're taking is the only thing I can hear in the room, the two people stirring as they toss and turn in bed.

"Are they still asleep?" Jordan asks, not even attempting to stay quiet.

Probably not anymore.

"Shh-" I shut him up with my warning glare and he holds his hands up in mock surrender, mimicking me like a child. I widen my eyes as I furrow my brows, giving him a 'what the actual fuck' look and he rolls his eyes, looking at the ground as he carries on muttering under his breath.

The couple start to snore again and I release a quiet shaky breath as I tiptoe closer as silently as I can. Once I'm at the foot of the bed, I see a lady and man, of old age and grey hair, sleeping peacefully tucked into bed. I'm about to step back when I notice a picture frame turned down on the bedside table, facing so the picture is covered instead. Huh. That's weird.

I pick it up, and a small smile lifts my lips at the image of a family, the parents when they must have been much younger, the son whom I presume is Nate in his youth and a small ginger-haired girl with a goofy grin. I didn't know Nate had a sister.

"What're you doing? Hurry up." Jordan hisses from his spot plastered against the door. "This place is fucking creepy."

He's not wrong. In the daylight, the olden styled curtains with the floral patterns and funky smell might seem normal, vintage even, but with the darkness cloaking around us and occasional creaks of floorboards in the background, this place was a fucking horror-movie set. And I wasn't gonna be the dumbass asking to get killed, who went and investigated the noises. Usually, at the first sign of danger I would bolt, but having someone else here also seemed to ease the discomfort. Even if it was fucking Jordan.

My feet work silently to creep back to the door, beside a squirming Jordan whose doing everything he can to not jump out the window right now. I quietly shove him to the side and began grating the door open, it's rusted hinges squealing to be oiled.

"Is that my hoodie?" Jordan's warm words are right against my back now, his face in thought when I turn my head around to look up at him. I shove my hand in my pocket, slipping out of the room as I scoff.

"As if." I can feel my cheeks heat up with my lie.

"You sure about that?" He asks, his brow raised as he follows in my exit from the gloominess of the never ending corridor. I don't know why he's following me, it's not like I know where I'm even going.

"Course I am." I roll my eyes, crossing my arms as I laugh through my nose. I'm about to take my next step when a weight from behind me tugs me back in my spot. Frowning, I turn around to see Jordan's large hand wrapped around my hood as he peers down the back.

"Perv! Get the fuck off." I hiss, slapping his hand away as he chuckles lightly, his cloudy grey eyes gleaming even in the dark.

"Thought you said it wasn't my hoodie? 'Cause the name on the label begs to differ." He gives a knowing smirk and I nearly melt into a hot gooey mess right there from the pure sexiness on his face. I internally shake myself, reminding my crazy hormones that me and him will never, ever, in a million years, get along.