20 Days In His Bedroom

Chapter Nineteen

I spent most of the evening talking to Jace about his girlfriend and her family. I didn't talk to Kyle again. Didn't even see him.

"I'm so sad the party ended so quickly," Jace says.

"Thank you. I had a good time with you," I say with a small smile.

"Me too. I hope I see you again."

"Oh, sure. I have your number. After I get a new phone, we can text and arrange to meet. I still want to see Chloe."

"Oh yeah, definitely. I'm sure you two will get along," he says, smiling.

"Me too."
We stop in front of my room—Kyle's room. Our room. My subconscious rolls her eyes at me.

"Bye," he says before walking away.

I knock on the door, but there's no answer. God. Is he not inside? I'll have to wait.

Fifteen minutes pass. Then I hear his laugh echoing down the hallway. I rush toward the sound and see him with her—that tall girl.

"Twi? What do you want?" he asks as I approach. I can't take my eyes off her.

"To get inside," I say through gritted teeth.

"Oh, right." He turns to her. "Sorry, babe. This chick is crashing with me tonight."

This chick? Annoying them? No way he's bringing her into the room. He can't be serious.

"And how exactly will this chick annoy you?" I ask sharply as we walk together.

He doesn't answer, but she laughs.

He unlocks the door, and I let them enter first. I don't understand what he's doing. I'm leaving tomorrow—why does he want to leave things on such a bitter note?

The girl heads to the bathroom. Kyle leans against the mini fridge.

"Why is she here?" I ask quietly, leaning on the door.

"She's... my guest."

"When is she leaving?"

"She's staying the night," he says casually, opening the fridge for water.

"Staying the night? Why? Where is she going to sleep?"

"On the bed," he says with an infuriating smirk.

"Oh, with you?"
Of course. What was I thinking? That this room was meant for peace and healing? No, clearly he needed his distractions while staying with me, the miserable roommate. I won't be asking him for help tomorrow. I'll ask Jace.

"Did you think I'd give her the bed and sleep on the floor?" he laughs.

"Why not? You offered me the bed and slept on the floor. Remember?"

"She's not you." Another laugh.

Wait—is he drunk?

"Are you drunk?"

"Maybe," he admits, with a crooked half-smile. "Just a little."

"Ah. So this was planned? The whole night?"

"Are you mad at me?" he asks, blinking like a confused kid.

"No. It's your health," I say coldly.

"I meant about the girl," he presses, his fingers tapping on the fridge.

"No. It's your room," I reply flatly as she walks out of the bathroom. Her makeup is redone. Figures.

"Do you need anything before I go?" I ask.