the roommate → brad simpson | ✓

seventeen - "hawaiian pizza kinda person"

I wake up the next morning, hangover free and I notice a note and a cup of coffee on my desk. I stretch and sit up, taking a sip of the warm drink and pick the note off of the side of my bed, my eyes scanning over it.

I had classes and you weren't awake but I got you some coffee. I'll be back with lunch, we're gonna have our talk. Brad.

My heart starts speeding up inside my chest, remembering that I promised Brad that I'd talk to him today. I didn't know what he wanted to talk about but I could only guess it was about us and our confusing friendship.

One minute, we're both arguing and at each other's throat, throwing insults each other's way through pure hatred. The next moment he's kissing me or helping me in a situation or beating someone up on my behalf. We had an a very peculiar friendship.

I scrunch to note up in my hand and throw it into the bin, sipping on my drink. He knew that I didn't have class until after lunch anyway, and that's why he knew I wouldn't leave for class to avoid him.

Instead, I change into some jeans that were folded on my desk, presumably by Brad, and a simple white shirt. I didn't know what to do in the remaining time between now and whatever time Brad would be back. I could watch a film or read a book but I felt too focused on overthinking what could happen between Brad and I.

While the pessimistic part of me was thinking that Brad and I would argue with each other, the optimistic side was thinking maybe Brad could start a real friendship.

After an hour and a half of overthinking everything, Brad walks through the door with a box of pizza and closes the door with his foot. I notice the black, thick rimmed glasses resting on his nose that I had never seen before.

"I, uh, I didn't know what topping you liked," he shrugged as he put the box in the middle of my bed, separating us as he sits down too. "I just got us cheese pizza, I hope you don't mind."

"No, that's fine," I give him a small and nervous smile and he opens up the box, taking a piece so I copy his actions, taking a slightly smaller bite than he did.

It was silent, a comfortable silence nonetheless, but we both knew we inevitably going to have to have the talk.

"What is your favourite topping, by the way?" Brad asks as he closes the box once we've done. He'd ate two thirds and I, the other third.

"I'm definitely a Hawaiian pizza kind of person," I tell him. "Unpopular opinion, I know, but it's actually really nice."

"Finally someone who appreciates pineapple on pizza," he laughs and stands up off the bed, putting the box in the bin after he's scrunched it up with his bare fists so that it would fit. I shift on my bed to get myself more comfortable. "So, uh, you know—we need to talk."

"Yeah, that's probably a good idea," I agree, as though we hadn't already agreed to talk yesterday and he hadn't already reminded me this morning. I intake a sharp breath. "We should definitely talk."

He sits back on to my bed, perching himself on the end as he looks down at the floor, "I just wanted to sort out our really confusing friendship, you know? Because one minute you're being a major bitch and we're arguing with each other and the next we're getting along perfectly fine."

"And you're kissing me," I add on. "Look, we don't get along and that's very clear. You hate me and I hate you, that's how it's been since we met. So you kissing me and me kissing you back should mean nothing and clearly it did to you because then you went and kissed another girl afterwards anyway and I shouldn't have been annoyed because the kiss meant nothing to me too because I don't like you like that, you know? So—"