ROOMMATES
1243 Words
Mason was lying flat on his back, eyes open in the dark.
He couldn’t sleep.
He kept seeing her face.
The way her mouth trembled when she saw him and Wendy.
The way she stood frozen like the air had been knocked out of her.
He didn’t know why he cared so much.
He didn't want to care so much.
He regretted finding out that she was a girl.
But her expression had been etched into him like a song stuck on loop.
Then came the knock.
He sat up instantly. “Yes?”
The door creaked open.
Emily stepped in slowly, half-hiding behind her overnight bag.
Her eyes were wide and nervous. “Uhm… I… Mr. Edward said I needed to stay here. Just for a while. They need my room.”
He stared at her.
Oh no.
No way.
He was already losing his mind with her down the hall. Now she was going to sleep a few feet away?
In his space?
She said quickly, "I can sleep on the couch" after glancing at his shocked expression. I swear I won’t interfere. Or... or exhale too loud.
Mason gave a blink, "What kind of person says they won’t breathe loud?"
Panicked, she muttered, "I don't know. Someone attempting to avoid death?"
“Why can’t you stay with one of the other guys?”
“Mason, you know you’re the only one that knows,” She said quickly now scared.
He exhaled and rubbed his temples, “Fine. Just—stay on your side of the room.”
She nodded fervently and tiptoed to the corner like a kicked puppy.
He watched her unpack her blanket slowly. Her hands were still trembling.
And suddenly…
He felt worse than before.
There was an intolerable silence in the room. Emily prayed that she wouldn't catch fire as she layed on the edge of the couch with her hands clasped and her knees together.
Mason continued to sit rigidly on the edge of his bed, his back straight and his arms crossed as if he were getting ready for combat. She was in his room. She was in his personal area. Even worse, she kept looking at him as if he were a vicious creature who might suddenly throw her out.
He finally stood with a sharp sigh, “I’m going to take a shower.”
Emily nodded like a bobblehead, “Okay.”
“Don’t touch anything.”
“I won’t.”
“Don’t make noise.”
“I’ll be quiet as air.”
He narrowed his eyes. “Air makes noise.”
“I’ll be quiet as… dead air?”
He rolled his eyes, “Whatever.”
He grabbed his towel and pajama pants, muttering under his breath as he disappeared into the bathroom.
Emily let out a breath as soon as the door closed.
Her heart was pounding wildly. The entire setup felt off, and the couch was scratchy and hard. However, what options did she have? Her secret was only known to him. Although being in his room, with his belongings, his scent, and the subtle reminders of him all around... Her stomach twisted and fluttered. She needed to concentrate. On remaining unnoticed. On being her brother; not of the picture of his lips meeting Wendy's.
Facing the wall, she rolled onto her side. The sound of the water running had stopped. However, she closed her eyes in the hopes of falling asleep.
With his hands pressed against the tile wall, Mason stood beneath the hot spray inside the bathroom. Even after the water poured over his face, his thoughts remained clouded. She was in his room sleeping feet away. Even worse, he could still see how she had gazed at him earlier in the evening.
Why do I care so much?
The kiss was for show. To kill the rumor.
When he kissed Wendy… it hadn’t felt like anything. Just cold gloss and pretense.
He turned the faucet off roughly and dried himself, slipping on a black t-shirt and joggers. As he ran the towel through his hair, he took a breath. Composed. Calm. Unbothered.
He pulled the door open and stopped. On the couch, she was curled up. She was so tightly curled up that she might have vanished into herself. She had her arms wrapped around a pillow as if it were her only defence, and her hoodie was pulled up exposing her thighs. He felt a sharp pain. She appeared... tiny, vulnerable. Like a kid trying to hide from the world. He moved closer, then stopped.
No. No, no, no.
This wasn’t his job. He wasn’t here to protect her. He wasn’t her babysitter or her brother or her—
He shook his head violently and climbed into his bed.
The lights were already off, but the space between them felt louder than thunder.
Minutes passed. Then an hour.
He couldn’t sleep.
The silence was too thick.
The guilt was louder than it should’ve been.
He rolled over and looked toward the couch.
“Emily,” he said.
No answer.
He tried again. “Hey, Are you asleep?”
A tiny voice came back, “Yes.”
He blinked, “That’s not how sleep works.”
“I mean… no.” She sat up, eyes sleepy and nervous even in the dark, “Do you need something?”
He didn’t know what he was doing. His voice was quieter than he meant it to be, “I can’t sleep.”
She didn’t say anything.
A beat passed. Then she whispered, “oh.”
His hand tightened around his blanket, “You know what, nevermind.”
He then laid down quickly on his bed, muttering under his breath.
Emily sat up straight on the couch, her heart thumping too loudly in her chest, and she stayed motionless. It felt like a wall of darkness between them, dense, quiet, unbreakable. He had said, "I can't sleep."
She hadn’t known what to say to that.
Neither could he.
And now he was lying down again—back to her, probably regretting he even opened his mouth.
Her fingers clutched at the edge of the pillow.
What was she supposed to do?
It was too quiet in the room. She became acutely aware of him at every sound the bed made and every change in the sheets, of his existence, of their true proximity. She closed her eyes tightly and pressed her face further into the pillow. Put an end to it, you're being foolish.
She was on a mission to look for her mother.
That's all this was.
However... Before she could stop, she was whispering, “Mason?”
No reply.
She waited a second, then—
“Are you still awake?”
A beat of silence.
Then, his voice came—gruff, but not angry. “What is it now?”
Her voice faltered, “Thank you, for earlier.”
He didn’t respond right away. The silence dragged out like the edge of a cliff.
Finally, he muttered, “Don’t thank me. I didn’t do it for you.”
She nodded, even though he couldn’t see her, “I know.”
Another beat.
Then—“Go to sleep…Emily, That’s your name... right?”
Her chest tightened. But she said nothing more.
“Yes.”
She lay back down, curling up again, pillow still tucked against her chest.
Sleep didn’t come quickly. But eventually, exhaustion pulled her under.
- Writer
