Sage had always considered herself a patient person. When the university's housing system had inexplicably paired her with Jaxon—a messy, disorganized guy, she had endured their constant bickering with what she considered remarkable restraint. Those first few weeks had been torture, with daily arguments.
But then something unexpected had happened and their mutual irritation had transformed into friendship, which turned into lingering conversations.
And then came that night in the kitchen.
The memory still burned in Sage's mind—the way Jaxon had looked at her, the sudden tension in the air, the way his hands had felt against her skin. The way he'd kissed her like he'd been thinking about it for months. Then came the sex.
The next morning had been different. Jaxon had woken before her, and when she'd emerged from her room, he'd barely looked up from his coffee. "Morning," he'd muttered, his tone so casual it might as well have been any other day. Like nothing had changed. Like she hadn't just given him every vulnerable part of herself.
It was a humiliation she couldn't shake.
Mila had been the one to suggest she try dating someone else. "Make him realize what he's missing,". And Caleb had been... nice. He texted her good morning every day without fail.
But the moment she started seeing Caleb, Jaxon changed.
At first, it was subtle.Then, he stopped acknowledging her at all. One morning, she'd smiled at him over her coffee and said, "Good morning," and he'd walked right past her like she hadn't spoken.
Then came the mess.
It started small—a coffee mug left on the counter instead of in the sink. A single sock abandoned near the couch. But soon, it was everywhere. His boxers on the bathroom floor, still damp from his shower. Dirty plates stacked in the sink, crusted with food. Leftovers left in the fridge, the stench creeping into the entire apartment.
It was deliberate. She knew it was deliberate.
Because this was exactly how they had started—back when they first became roommates, when Jaxon's carelessness had driven her to the brink of insanity. Back when they had hated each other.
And now, he was doing it again.
She tried to ignore it. Told herself it didn't matter. But every time she came home to another mess, something inside her coiled tighter and tighter.
Until one day, she snapped.
She had just come back from a date with Caleb, her lips still tingling from his kiss, but when she stepped into the bathroom and nearly slipped on one of Jaxon's damp towels. Again. And there, on the floor, were his boxers. Again.
Something inside her cracked.
She stormed into the living room, where Jaxon was sprawled on the couch, scrolling through his phone.
"Are you serious right now?" she demanded, her voice shaking.
He didn't even look up. "What?"
"The bathroom, Jaxon!"
He shrugged. "Oops."
"You're doing this on purpose!"
Finally, he looked at her. His expression was unreadable. "Doing what?"
"This!" She gestured wildly around the apartment— "You've been acting like a complete asshole ever since—" She cut herself off, but it was too late.
Jaxon's eyes darkened. "Ever since what?"
She clenched her fists. "You know what."
There was a beat of silence. Then, his lip curled. "Ever since you started spreading your legs for the first guy who looked at you?"
The words hit her like a blow.
For a second, she couldn't breathe. Couldn't move. The room spun, Jaxon's face blurring in front of her.
She saw the exact moment he realized what he'd said—the flicker of regret in his eyes, the way his mouth opened like he wanted to take it back. But it was too late.
She turned and ran.
Her bedroom door slammed behind her, the lock clicking into place just as the first sob tore from her throat. She collapsed onto her bed, her entire body shaking, his words echoing in her skull like a taunt.
She had known Jaxon was angry. She had known he was being petty. But she had never, never expected that.
Outside her door, she heard his footsteps.
"Sage—"
She didn't answer.
"I didn't—"
She pressed her face into her pillow, muffling another sob.
After a long moment, the footsteps retreated.
But the damage was done.
The next few days passed in a haze of silence. Sage avoided the common area as much as possible, timing her showers and meals for when she knew Jaxon wouldn't be around. Caleb texted her constantly, asking when he could see her again, but she found herself making excuses.
Jaxon, for his part, had stopped leaving messes. The apartment was eerily clean, as if he'd suddenly remembered how to pick up after himself. But the silence between them was heavier than any mess could have been.
It wasn't until Friday night that things came to a head. Sage was curled up on the couch with a book when Jaxon emerged from his room, looking uncharacteristically uncertain.
"We need to talk," he said, his voice rough.
Sage didn't look up from her book. "There's nothing to talk about."
Jaxon ran a hand through his hair. "I was an asshole," he said. "I didn't mean—"
"You meant it," Sage said quietly. "You just didn't expect me to react the way I did."
Jaxon was silent for a long moment. Then, "I was jealous."
The admission hung in the air between them. Sage finally looked up, meeting his gaze for the first time in days.
"Jealous?"
Jaxon's jaw worked. "Seeing you with him... I didn't like it."
Sage let out a humorless laugh. "So you decided to call me a slut?"
"I didn't—" Jaxon cut himself off, shaking his head. "I don't know why I said that. I was angry. I'm sorry."
Sage looked away. "It doesn't matter."
"It does," Jaxon insisted. "Sage, I—"
"Don't," she interrupted. "Just... don't."
Jaxon exhaled sharply. "What do you want me to do?"
Sage closed her book with a snap glared at him before walking to her room.