My eyes fly open.
Shit!.
I'm still on the couch, limbs heavy, head spinning with sleep. One second I was trying to tune out Jason's god-awful singing, and the next, I was out cold. It wasn't even a lullaby, more like a dying cat with a microphone. And yet, somehow, that was what lulled me into unconsciousness? Unbelievable.
Then cold.
A freezing sensation spreads across my chest and stomach. I jolt up as icy liquid seeps through my shirt, soaking the fabric like a cruel prank straight from hell.
"What the hell, Jason?!"
Droplets drip down from my chin, my arms, pooling on the couch. I look like a walking water fountain. He's already laughing, trying to hold it in, failing miserably. His whole body shakes with it.
"Oh, darling girl, you are drenched," he manages between chuckles, the sound of his laughter bright and full, completely unbothered by the crime he's just committed.
At this moment, I seriously consider wrapping my hands around his stupidly attractive neck. But then comes the sobering thought: jail. And something about not looking good in orange.
Instead, I straighten my posture and flash him a sickeningly sweet smile. "Oh my goodness, what a charming way to wake me," I say through clenched teeth.
Jason pauses. He tilts his head, one brow lifted. "You're… smiling?"
"Are you really suggesting that pouring water on me was the best course of action?"
"I called your name. You didn't move.
I panicked," he says with a casual shrug, like this is a normal, acceptable reaction.
"You panicked?" I echo, blinking. "And your first instinct was to flood me?"
He nods solemnly, completely unapologetic. I roll my eyes. "Why am I even awake right now?"
"I made dinner," he announces proudly.
Oh. Well. That's new.
I eye him suspiciously. "Then put on your clothes," I say, turning away and stomping toward my room, mumbling under my breath the entire way as his laughter trails behind me.
By the time I return to the living room, Jason is parked on the couch, completely absorbed in whatever is on the TV. I reach past him, grab the remote, and shut it off.
"Hey," he says, startled. His face falls. "That was my favorite show."
"Really? What about it?" I ask, folding my arms.
"Could you… turn it back on?"
"Nope," I reply, shaking my head slowly. "Why are you so annoying?"
He sighs. "And yet I still feed you."
He marches off to the kitchen, grabs his plate, and leaves mine behind on the counter like a wounded child. Petty. I join him at the table and dig into the food—beef, perfectly seasoned, tender.
It practically melts in my mouth. It's honestly… delicious.
Jason stares at me from across the table, silent, watching. His eyes are always doing that—saying more than his mouth ever does.
"This is amazing," I murmur.
A small smile creeps onto his face. "I'm glad you like it."
I nod back, gentle this time. "You cooked, so I'll do the dishes."
He carries his plate to the sink without another word, and I clean up in silence. It's strange—the quiet between us isn't heavy. It's just… there.
Later, he's on his phone again, completely checked out, while I scroll through movie options. Eventually I just put something on and settle in.
After about twenty minutes of silence, Jason looks over, concerned. "Hey… are you okay?"
I smile.
"Yeah, of course."
"What are we watching?"
"Nothing you care about," I tease.
He laughs. "Let's watch Tom and Jerry."
I blink. "Are you five?"
"Maybe."
I laugh and switch it on. It's ridiculous, but somehow it fits. Jason leans back, relaxing into the couch like a kid who just finished his juice box. As he dozes off, I study him quietly.
For someone who lives to get on my nerves, he looks… peaceful. Even sweet.
But then his breathing gets shallow. Twitchy. Like he's trapped in a bad dream. Without thinking, I rush over and try to wake him.
"No, no—please come back," he mumbles, face twisted in fear.
"Jason, hey—wake up!"
He jerks upright suddenly and pulls me into a tight, almost desperate hug. "Please… stay with me," he breathes against my shoulder.
His arms are wrapped around me so tightly, I can feel his heart hammering through his chest.
"Are you okay?" I whisper.
He pulls away slowly, face pale and eyes wild. He doesn't answer. He just stands and walks out of the room.
When he returns, he's changed into new clothes. "I'll be back. Don't wait up," he mutters, avoiding my eyes as he storms out the front door, leaving nothing but confusion in his wake.
_______________
I'm in bed now, the glow of the city lights dancing across my ceiling. My phone reads 2:34 AM.
Just as I'm finally drifting back into sleep, loud footsteps echo down the hall. A crash comes from Jason's room. I shoot upright.
Heart racing, I creep out of bed, stretch, and make my way down the hall.
The light from his room spills into the hallway. I raise my hand to knock, but before I can, the door swings open.
Jason stands there, clearly drunk. He sways slightly, grinning.
"What brings you here?" he asks, voice lazy and playful.
"Just getting a glass of water," I lie.
He raises an eyebrow. "From right outside my door?"
"I… heard something."
"Mm-hmm." His eyes narrow, like he knows I'm full of it. "Go back to your room."
"Have you been drinking?" I ask, crossing my arms.
"Why does it matter?"
"Because I'm your roommate, and I care whether or not you choke on your own tongue in the middle of the night."
He chuckles darkly. "Marie… go to bed."
"No."
His eyes flicker with something sharp. "What are you so scared of?"
"I don't know," I whisper. "Maybe the fact your shirt smells like alcohol."
He pulls it off without hesitation. "Then I guess I'll take it off."
And suddenly—there he is. Bare chest, messy hair, drunk smirk. My eyes shoot up to meet his, and I hate how drawn I am to them. How blue they are.
He steps closer.
His arm blocks my escape, then the other, pinning me between him and the wall. My breath hitches. His hand tilts my chin up gently, forcing me to meet his gaze.
His breath is warm. Too close. My heartbeat stumbles.
He licks his lips. I glance down. Mistake.
"Do you think I'd kiss someone like you, Marie?" he murmurs, lips curved in a mocking grin.
The words hit harder than they should. Sharp and humiliating.
He steps back and walks away without another word. I slide down the wall, stunned, chest aching for reasons I don't even understand.
Did I really think he was going to kiss me?
I crawl into bed, lights off, heart still racing. The silence feels louder than ever.
Why do I care this much? Why does it feel like he just dropped a weight on my chest?
I shouldn't feel this way. I can't feel this way.
He's just Jason. Loud, annoying, charming Jason—who jokes too much, and drinks too much, and laughs like the sun lives inside him.
And yet… my thoughts spin and tangle around him as sleep slowly drags me under.