Nausea: Sequel to Warcrossed

Spare? What Spare?

When I finally came in, the sun had set and the moon was high in the sky. Both my dogs followed behind me, and I walked up the spiral staircase to my bedroom. The floorboard creaked as the house settled, as it always did, and I opened my door. I'd have to unpack everything tomorrow.

Sport growled, his teeth bared, fur standing up on end. Scout stood beside me, stiff, crouched as if she were going to pounce.

"Guys..." I flipped on the light, and immediately I also had my teeth bared. "Get out of my room, Jayce."

He sat uncaring on my loft bed, flipping through a book he'd gotten off the shelf tucked under it. Thank God he'd left my desk untouched, otherwise I would've started a war. "Nah."

"I agreed to let you stay in the spare room. Not my room. Get out." It was the only place in my house that was safe, and he wasn't about to invade it.

"No. How about you go to the spare room? I like this one more." He never once looked up at me.

"Get out, Jayce. You're on thin ice."

"What are you going to do about it?"

"I'm not about to stand here and fight over my room. Get the hell out."

Finally, he raised his head. "What are you going to-"

The hardback book I threw hit him square in the face. He dropped the one in his hand, then climbed down from the bed. On his way out, he glared at me and his face was inches from mine. "You don't want to play around with me, John. I'll let it slide this time and only this time. Is that clear?"

"You don't want to test me, either. I'll kick you out and cut the deal. Now go."

What kind of nerve did I have, threatening him? Oh well. It worked, because he walked out without another word. I didn't even change before I climbed up and went to sleep. Scout and Sport curled up in their beds, which were really just piles of old blankets and some pillows. For whatever reason, they never slept in dog beds, so I made do with what I had on hand at the time.

I didn't have a dream throughout the night.