Sunlight sneaks past the curtains and lands warm and annoying on my skin. God, why do I always forget to close these before bed? I groan and drag myself upright, blankets falling to the floor like a sad surrender. The sun can have its victory today, but I swear, it better not wake me up again tomorrow.
I shuffle to the bathroom, brushing my teeth half-heartedly, the mundane routine doing little to clear my head. Shower's refreshing, but it won't wash away the knot of irritation twisting in my gut.
I pull on my usual white shorts and oversized black t-shirt—comfort over style. Perfect for ignoring the world.
Steeling myself for the inevitable confrontation, I creep out of my room. And there he is—Jason, perched on the couch, casually shoveling cereal into his mouth like last night never happened.
"Hey," he says, like we're normal roommates sharing a morning.
"Hey," I half-smile, trying to keep things civil.
But then, I hear the slow footsteps behind me. Oh, of course—he's coming over. Like clockwork.
I grab the Coco Pops box, heading for the fridge. "I apologize for what happened last night," he mumbles, eyes glued to the cereal box.
Here we go again.
"I hope I didn't give you a hard time," he says, mouth full, totally casual.
I finally stop and turn to face him. "Why did you do it, Jason?"
He just shrugs like it's nothing.
I fight the urge to scream. If you keep coming home drunk, I swear, I'm leaving.
"Listen," he starts.
"No, you listen," I snap. "If you're going to come home wasted, at least bring one of your... hoes to take care of you."
His eyes flick up, confused.
"Sorry, forgot you're cheating on her," I say bluntly, rolling my eyes.
"Look," he sighs, "I was a jerk. I'm sorry."
I grit my teeth. "Fuck's sake, Jason."
He admits, "I was stressed… had to get some things out of my head."
I storm into the living room and throw on Stranger Things—anything to drown out his mess.
"Annoying cunt," I mutter under my breath.
He plops next to me, chuckling, "Is this all because I came home drunk again?"
His laugh is bitter. If this is his way of apologizing, I'm not buying it.
"You ignoring me now?" he sighs.
I sip the milk I poured and set the glass down firmly.
"Jason, I don't mind if you come home drunk. But if you do, bring Kate. She can take care of you."
He raises a brow, puzzled.
"Oops, forgot you're cheating on her," I repeat, sharp.
He looks like he wants to say something, but instead, he just nods, defeated.
"I'm going out today," I say, grabbing my bag.
"Where to?" His voice is low.
"Out with a friend," I say, trying to sound casual.
"And where'd you meet this friend?" His brow raises again.
"Does it matter?" I snap, walking away.
"Wait! It's a he?" he asks, louder this time.
"Yeah. Got a problem with that?" I challenge.
He backpedals, "No, no, of course not."
I stop dead, baffled by his mixed signals.
"You know what? Do whatever you want," he mutters.
Why is he acting so strange?
I shrug it off and start getting ready.
Then—out of nowhere—he grabs my arm and pins me to the wall.
I squawk, breath catching.
His eyes lock on my lips.
"You're not going anywhere," he murmurs, his hand cupping my cheek gently.
I struggle, heart hammering, mouth dry.
He leans in, breath warm, lips just inches from mine.
"Marie…" he whispers, brushing a strand of hair behind my ear.
"I shouldn't be doing this. You should stop me."
But I can't. I don't want to.
His lips meet mine softly, possessively. His hand slides from my side to my neck, pulling me closer.
I sigh, lost in the sensation—his name falling from my lips like a prayer.
Then reality crashes back. Memories of those other girls, those fake moans, flood my mind.
"I can't do this," I push him away, breath ragged.
He stays silent, eyes dark with something I can't read.
"Take that as my apology," he finally says.
What kind of apology is this? What the hell am I even doing?
I step back, trying to steady my racing heart, but the ache in my chest isn't from his touch—it's from everything unsaid between us.
Jason just stands there, his eyes dark, searching mine like he's waiting for a sign—any sign—that I'm not completely done with him.
"An apology doesn't mean shit if you don't mean it," I say quietly, voice cracking a little.
He swallows hard, runs a hand through his messy hair again, looking torn. "I do mean it. I'm sorry, Marie. For all of it."
"Then prove it," I snap, then immediately regret the harshness.
He steps closer, slower this time, like he's afraid I'll break if he moves too fast.
"I want to," he says, voice rough. "But I don't know how to fix this mess we're in."
I look away, blinking back the sting of tears. "Maybe you can't."
Silence falls heavy between us, broken only by the faint hum of the city outside.
Jason reaches out again, this time gently brushing my cheek with his thumb. "I'm not giving up."
I swallow hard, torn between wanting to push him away and craving the warmth I feel when he's near.
"Neither am I," I admit, barely above a whisper.
He smiles, a real, soft smile that makes something inside me flutter and ache all at once.
"Good," he says. "Then maybe we start over."
I bite my lip, heart pounding. "Maybe."
And just like that, everything feels fragile—hope and fear tangled together in the quiet morning light.
We stand there, inches apart, the air thick with everything we haven't said. For a moment, I almost forget about the nights, the jealousy, the anger. All I feel is this fragile thread pulling us together.
Jason's hand drops from my cheek, but instead of stepping away, he lingers close, like he's anchoring himself to me.
"I don't want to mess things up with you," he murmurs.
I meet his eyes, searching for truth, for the part of him that's real beneath the bravado and the messy mistakes.
"Neither do I," I admit.
He takes a slow breath, like he's making a decision.
"So… what now?" he asks.
I shrug, suddenly nervous. "I guess we try. But it's going to take time. And patience."
He nods, his eyes serious. "I'm willing to wait."
A small smile tugs at my lips despite the knot in my stomach. "Good. Because I'm not easy to figure out."
"Challenge accepted," he says, a playful glint sparking in his gaze.
I laugh softly, feeling lighter than I have in days.
Maybe this—whatever it is—could be the start of something real.
But deep down, I know it won't be simple. Not with Jason.
And maybe that's okay.