The Holt Conundrum

first october

It's October and Holt is starting to make jokes.

            He wasn't exactly comfortable at first after moving in. I don't think it had anything to do with me in particular and everything to do with living with a stranger.

I think I kind of hit the roommate jackpot with Holt. I barely even hear him when he's around the apartment. He stays in his room most of the time, like he's scared he can't use the living room. When he makes food he puts all of his dishes in the dishwashes and cleans up his pans before going to hide again in his room with his meal. He uses the microwave, but I never hear it ding, and one time I walked in the kitchen and saw him opening the door right before it ends, probably to not make any sound.

I've told him that he can use the TV in the living room and that he can eat in the kitchen multiple times, but I guess he just doesn't want to make any noise.

When I've told this to Eloise, she said he was like a battered wife. She was kind of joking saying it, but it's made me think that maybe he was beat up as a kid. I hope it's just because he's a quiet dude though.

Aside from going to his classes, he's always at the gym. I don't know how he could like it. Sometimes it's nine in the evening and he'll leave the apartment with his bag and his hood on and he'll walk to the gym. I go to the gym, but I take a lot of rest days. Not Holt. He never rests.

So we're Saturday morning and there's a knock at our door. I'm in the kitchen eating my cereals but Holt is in the bathroom so I go get the door. It's a girl. I've seen her once or twice. I think she does athletic with him, but I think they're not sleeping together.

I've been teasing Holt a lot, any chance I get because I'm hoping it'll loosen him up a bit. So when I see her I yell, "Holt! It's yo baby momma!"

She rolls her eyes at me and follows me back to the kitchen.

Holt joins us a few seconds later with a smile and grabs one of his bottles of Gatorade from the fridge. "Do you want to come play tennis with us?" he asks me.

I'm wearing one of my sleeveless hoodies, sport shorts and slippers which is really my equivalence of fuzzy bathrobe and curlers. Momma ain't going out any time soon. "And just hit a ball back and forth? No thanks," I answer, and shove a spoonful of cereals in my mouth.

"Why? I thought you liked playing with balls?" he says with a smug little smirk and I actually spit out milk and cereal because I was so not ready for that.

He laughs at that. And he looks proud of himself. I can't help it, I'm shaking with silent laughter. That adorable Holt. I just want to pat his head like a good dog that just learned a new trick.

"Not any balls, just yours Smooches," I tell him and wink. He rolls his eyes at me. "You guys have fun. Don't forget to use protection," I add and blow him a kiss.

He flips me off before saying, "Sure thing, Boo."

After they leave I just keep eating my cereals staring at the wall.

And then I open my phone and go look at Holt's instagram profile like a creep, which I've been doing way too often lately, especially the part where I read all the comments to figure out who he's banging.

I seriously need help. I'm an emotionally compromised teenage girl. I am not okay.