Chapter 4 ~ It Can’t Be… Right?
1967 Words
{Macy’s POV}
Living with someone you don’t like is bad.
Living with someone you don’t like who also happens to be Nathan Cole?
That feels like a personal attack from the universe.
I stared at my ceiling for a solid two minutes after waking up, just to confirm that yesterday had actually happened.
It had.
Unfortunately.
Because no matter how long I blinked or how many times I mentally refreshed my life like a faulty webpage, one fact remained very real—
Nathan Cole was in the room across from mine.
My roommate.
I sat up slowly, dragging a hand down my face.
“How is this even possible?” I muttered.
Yesterday I was— you know what?
Everything’s just great.
I decided to force myself past the shock, but nothing was great.
Not even slightly great.
I got out of bed anyway, because life does not pause for emotional crises, and because I had decided last night that I would not let this situation control me.
We were not going to interact.
We were not going to interfere in each other’s business.
We were going to exist in the same space like two civilized strangers who accidentally signed the same lease.
That was the rule.
Simple.
I stepped into the small kitchen area, already mentally preparing myself for a quiet, uneventful morning, which lasted for exactly…
Three seconds.
Because the door behind me opened.
I didn’t turn immediately. I didn’t need to.
I knew.
You just know when someone like him enters a room. There’s a shift. Not dramatic and not loud. Just… tangible.
I poured out a calming breath and kept my focus on what I was doing— pouring water into a cup like my life depended on it. Meanwhile, footsteps sounded. Close.
Then closer.
Then— too close, ‘causing me to turn slightly to acknowledge he was actually there.
Of course he was.
Tall, annoyingly composed, and wearing a plain shirt that somehow still looked like it had been designed specifically to make other people insecure.
And, as expected— no greeting.
No acknowledgment.
Nothing.
Even though I was staring at him, he walked straight past me like I was part of the furniture and reached for the counter in front of me.
There was a brief pause. A very small, very noticeable pause.
Then… “Move.”
I blinked.
Not because I didn’t hear him.
I heard him.
I just needed a second to process the fact that that was the first word he chose to say this morning.
We agreed not to relate, but in my own opinion, greeting is ethically necessary. Courtesy demands it.
I turned my head slowly now. “So we’re just not doing basic human interaction?”
He didn’t look at me.
“Move.”
Oh.
Okay.
That’s how we’re doing this.
I stepped aside, not because I agreed with him, but because I preferred not to argue with anyone before breakfast.
It ruins my appetite; and I like food.
“You should say excuse me,” I said still.
But nothing.
No response.
No glance.
He just set a small bag on the counter and opened it like I didn’t exist.
I watched.
Not intentionally. But also not accidentally
He pulled out food. Actual food. Organized and prepared. Like this was an apocalypse and he had planned for survival.
Of course.
He started making something without hesitation, moving around the kitchen with quiet efficiency.
No wasted movement.
No unnecessary sound.
Still no acknowledgment of me— like, at all.
I stood there for a second longer than necessary before turning back to my cup.
Fine.
We were really committing to this whole “no interaction” thing.
I finished making my tea, took a sip of it, and tried not to look at him again… or complete he looked
He was still moving and he did so like he didn’t need the space.
Like he didn’t need anyone in it either.
I pushed myself off the counter and sighed; because this kind of atmosphere wasn’t one I was comfortable with in any sense.
“Enjoy your… whatever that is,” I said now but nothing.
Right.
I walked out of the kitchen.
Because clearly, that conversation had gone well.
**
The kitchen incident was crazy, but the bathroom situation was worse.
Much worse.
I had just stepped under the shower, letting the warm water wash away dirt and the irritation from earlier, when I heard it.
The door opening.
At first, I froze.
Because no.
No, it couldn’t be—
But then I heard footsteps. Inside.
I blinked water out of my eyes like it was a set of wings and opened them to almost have my heart jump out of my chest.
I saw a blurred outline beyond the curtain… and there was only one other person in this house.
“Hello?” I called.
No answer. So my heart jumped into my throat.
You’ve got to be kidding me.
Slowly, I reached forward and pulled the curtain just enough to see—
Him.
Standing by the sink.
Like this was normal.
Like this was acceptable.
I gasped heavily and then grew a tight frown at once. “What are you doing? Get out!” I snapped.
He didn’t even act like I had just complained.
“I need the sink.”
I stared at him.
“This is a bathroom.”
“I know.”
“I’m in the bathroom.”
“I can see that.”
“Oh my— then leave!”
He didn’t move.
Did not move.
“Lock it next time.” He said finally.
…
I actually forgot how to speak for a second.
Because what?
“Excuse me?”
No response.
He turned on the tap like this was a shared, scheduled activity.
I stood there, dripping, stunned, deeply offended on multiple levels.
But then I tried to calm down and address this quietly. “Who walks into a bathroom when someone is inside?” I demanded.
But no answer.
Not even a glance.
Just water running.
I stared at the ceiling.
Because clearly, I had done something in a past life to deserve this.
“Unbelievable,” I voiced in frustration.
Still nothing.
He finished, turned off the tap, and walked out like the last few minutes didn’t exist.
I stared…
The door closed behind him, and I stood there in silence.
Then… I exploded.
“Then lock it??”
I pushed the curtain back harder than necessary.
“Oh, I’m sorry! I didn’t realize I needed security protocols in my own bathroom!”
I stepped out of the bath compartment
“Should I start putting up warning signs? ‘Occupied’? ‘Human inside’? ‘Do not enter unless you have lost all sense of logic’?!”
I held my towel tighter as I got to the door.
“Unbelievable,” I repeated and locked the door.
How can someone be so annoying?!
**
The apartment was quiet after that.
Too quiet.
I sat on the small couch later, laptop open, trying to focus on an assignment that was due on Monday.
Trying.
Keyword.
Because my brain refused to cooperate.
It kept circling back to the same thing— Him.
Not in a “wow he’s so amazing” way everything sees him as.
Absolutely not.
More like— this doesn’t make sense.
A human being, thriving amongst other human beings should not be this rude, arrogant, and nonchalant.
And then there was also the part that someone like Nathan Cole should not be this quiet and passive.
He should be out.
With his level of popularity in school, I expected him to be at a party.
At multiple parties.
He should have people calling him. Texting him. Showing up uninvited. Creating chaos.
That’s what people like him do. I mean, he is the most popular boy on campus. That’s what attractive people like him attract.
But here?
Nothing.
No noise.
No movement.
No crowd.
Just— silence, and hostility.
I tapped my pen against the table.
“Okay,” I muttered to myself. “That’s not weird at all.”
I didn’t like that I noticed.
I liked it even less that I was thinking about it.
I shook my head and went back to my screen.
Focus.
Assignment.
Grades.
Future.
Not him.
Definitely not him.
**
By the time evening rolled in, the silence had settled into something heavier.
Not peaceful. Just there as an uncomfortable fog.
I stepped out of my room, heading toward the kitchen, and almost ran into him.
Of course.
Because clearly, timing was not on my side lately.
He stopped— barely, but just enough to avoid collision. Then he moved to walk past me like nothing had happened.
And for some reason, I spoke.
I don’t know why. But I did.
“You know,” I started, already regretting it, “normal roommates talk.”
He didn’t look at me but he responded.
“We’re not roommates.” He said, and didn’t wait for my response.
He left. Just like that.
And I stood there, staring at the doorway because I had just willingly walked into another bad decision.
“That was my mistake,” I muttered under my breath. Because clearly, expecting anything different from him was unrealistic.
I exhaled sharply and turned away.
No.
I was not dealing with this alone.
I needed to complain to Ria immediately.
And so I grabbed my keys and stepped out, heading straight to the next apartment.
I knocked.
Once.
Twice.
No answer.
I frowned.
“Seriously?”
I knocked again.
Nothing.
Of course.
Of course, the one time I actually needed someone to talk to, the universe decided everyone should disappear.
“Perfect,” I muttered.
I turned and walked back.
Because where else was I going to go?
I pushed the door open and stepped inside. His door was closed.
Good.
Stay there.
Preferably forever!
I went back to my room, sat down, and opened my laptop again.
Assignment.
Focus.
Ignore everything else.
I forced myself to type now, line after line. Word after word, and slowly, my mind began to settle.
Just a little.
Enough.
After a while, I stood up, stretching slightly. I needed water… which meant I would need to go to the kitchen again.
Thankfully, he was still in his room. So I stepped out of my room and walked down the hallway.
But then I heard something that caught my attention.
Nathan’s voice.
It wasn’t just his voice but the intensity of it. He wasn’t yelling but it was tight, stripped of even more liveliness.
Now whatever he was saying was none of my business but have you ever been in a situation where your ears couldn’t just help themselves?
“I can’t stay there any longer.”
…yeah. This was one of those instances.
“I don’t need them hovering over me.” Nathan’s voice came again and now, I tried to leave, respectfully… but then his next utterance stopped me cold.
“I only have sixty days left.” He said first.
“You’re my kid sis. I don’t want you to be in shock when the time comes and I’m not here anymore, that's why I’m telling you.” He added and I just froze.
That couldn’t mean what I thought it meant… right?
“No tears, remember?” he said now and ended the call with a flat bye… and for the first time since meeting Nathan Cole, I didn’t feel pissed, or frustrated, or enraged.
I just stood there, staring at nothing, trying to make sense of words that didn’t make sense. And hoping that it isn’t what it sounds like it is.
It can’t be.
…right?
- Writer
