Marie's Shit — What the hell do I say now?
Huh? Is that really all I can manage? Why do my words feel like scrambled mess every time he looks at me like that?
"I-I..." I start, but my voice betrays me, faltering like a damn schoolgirl. I lean back, eyes fixed on the window, hoping the glass can swallow me whole.
My phone buzzes in my pocket, yanking me from my panic. I fish it out just as it buzzes again. A text from Mom: "Tomorrow is your first day in college, honey."
Ignore. Focus on Jason.
His question hangs between us: "Why did you walk out like that? Did you get into a fight?"
He says it like it's nothing, but why does that sting so damn much? I mean, duh, I should be worried — he's my roommate, the one person who knows how bad my nights can get. It's not just casual concern, it's everything.
"Nothing to worry about," he says again, and I can't help but mock him silently, repeating the phrase in my head. Trying not to sound desperate, I reach for the radio volume to drown out the silence—and then, his hand wraps over mine.
I freeze.
"Wait—sorry," he murmurs, eyes flickering to me before back on the road.
Slowly, I pull my hand back but don't move it too far, like I'm tethered to him now.
Finally, I break the quiet, voice barely above a whisper, "You need to tell me what happened back there."
He sighs, pulls off to the side of the road into an empty field, parking the car. His eyes catch mine—intense, vulnerable.
"Leaving with me is going to be like hell," he says softly, words almost lost between us.
Without thinking, I meet his gaze, my heart pounding. "I'm ready to face that hell with you."
It's out there now, and somehow it feels right.
He shuts his eyes, struggling with the words. "You don't know what you're getting into. I keep having these visions of someone I loved... someone I couldn't save. I hate myself for it."
I don't know her, but I want to be the one to stand by him. Two broken souls trying not to drown.
"I want to be there for you, Jason. As your friend... your annoying roommate," I add with a soft chuckle.
His hand slides onto my thigh, warm and grounding. I cover his hand with mine, feeling the tight grip loosen.
My heart races, loud enough to drown out the quiet night.
He turns fully toward me, taking both my hands. "There's one more thing..." His eyes drop to my lips. Before I can speak, his mouth crashes onto mine.
Everything inside me flips—urgency, desire, fear—tangled and raw.
I climb into his lap, our bodies pressed together. His hands roam, his groans mix with my gasps.
"Jason," I breathe out, breathless, fog clouding the windows.
His smirk returns—dangerous and irresistible.
"W-what are we doing?" I whisper.
He laughs softly. "Exactly what we want, Marie."
Kisses trail down my neck, and I lean into him, grinning like a fool.
"This is my first kiss," I think, stunned that it's happening with him.
"You're too beautiful, too fragile for me," he murmurs. "You remind me of her... your eyes..."
I freeze again, caught in a storm of emotions.
"Please tell me this was your first kiss," he whispers.
I don't say a word, but the way he curses me under his breath—Damn, Marie, you're too good for me—makes me stay silent.
Still on his lap, I'm drowning in questions: How did I end up here? Two years apart, a world of complications—yet I'm sitting here, caught in this whirlwind.
I finally slide back into my seat, both of us smiling like idiots.
"I've never kissed anyone like you," he says softly, warming my chest.
And there it is.
What the hell is happening to me?
My roommate, the guy who could shatter me if I let him in.
Do I dare let him?
I clear my throat, suddenly feeling the heat of his gaze pinned on me.
"Jason…" My voice wavers, caught somewhere between nervous and reckless. "If we're doing this... I need to know you're not just some reckless guy who'll break me and walk away."
His smile falters for a fraction, replaced by something softer, almost real.
"I'm not," he says quietly, voice low but steady. "I don't do casual. Not with you."
My heart stumbles over itself. For once, the bravado fades, and all I want is honesty.
"So don't keep me guessing," I whisper, barely daring to meet his eyes. "Tell me what you want—what you're willing to fight for. Because I'm tired of being the one holding it all together."
He leans in, forehead resting against mine.
"Then let's stop pretending this is easy," he breathes. "Hell or not, I'm not letting go."
I swallow hard, my breath hitching, and suddenly the world outside that car feels miles away.
"Okay," I say, my voice firmer than I thought possible. "Okay, Jason. Let's do this. Together."
His smile is a slow sunrise, warming all the places I thought were too broken to heal.
And maybe, just maybe, hell won't be so bad with him by my side.
We sit there, the silence thick but no longer heavy—more like a shared breath, a quiet promise hanging between us. The city lights outside blur, but inside this car, everything sharpens—his warmth, the way his fingers still lightly rest on my hand, the steady beat of his heart echoing in the stillness.
I finally break the silence. "Jason… what if this messes everything up? What if I'm just a distraction from what you really need to face?"
His eyes lock onto mine, fierce and calm all at once. "Maybe you are," he admits. "But I'm tired of running from it alone. I want someone who's not scared to stick around—even when it's ugly."
My throat tightens. Ugly—yeah, that's the word I'm most afraid of.
"Me too," I whisper. "I don't want to be afraid anymore."
He nods, squeezing my hand gently before letting go, leaning back and running a hand through his hair.
"So," he says, a slow grin spreading across his face, "what's next for us, then? Because hell's got a new tenant."
I laugh, shaky but real. "One hell at a time, Jason."
His smirk turns into something softer. "One hell at a time."
For the first time in a long time, I believe it.