Mr Kingston's Roommate | ꪜ

Mr Kingston's Roommate|11

"I do love you! What more do you want me to say!? I'm sorry! I'm sorry that I wasn't here, Leila. I can't control how long I work! I-I've been trying to make more of an effort ⎯ "

"⎯ I buy designer clothes, not bullshit." The words slipped from my mouth before I could contain myself from releasing the pure rage that has been boiling within me for the past two weeks. I want to believe him, I want to believe that he genuinely cannot make time for me but something is not right.

And I won't shake off my gut feeling because of a simple sorry.

"D-do you love me?"

"...I-I don't know, Leila."

"My friends were the ones who were comforting me and they went through the same thing as myself. So many more of us could have died that day, Reese! I could have been dead. So imagine comforting someone in a situation that you yourself were in...one as scary as this! Goddamit my freaking professor comforted me more than you ever could."

"What? Your professor? Why did you feel the need to put that in there unless the comforting was more than just a one-off pat on the back?"

Is that seriously all he heard from what I just said?

"You want to know why?" I found myself spitting venomously as my eyes penetrated his glowering gaze. I want to hurt him. I want to hurt him so badly. "Because that's exactly what it was. You don't even realize that you just admitted to the fact that all you could have given me was a one-off pat on the back when my professor did way more than that."

"What professor?"

"My roommate. I told you my roommate was a guy."

His eyes narrowed, "yeah but you never said it was your professor, Leila. And why else would you keep that from me? It's him, isn't it? The young-looking one from the club? The one you couldn't take your eyes off when you were with me?" He babbled, his voice rising an octave higher with each question that tumbled past his lips.

"I trusted you enough to share a room with a guy. I mean there's nothing you could do about it and neither myself. I've been accommodating with that uncomfortable predicament, Leila. Who the hell allows his girlfriend to share a room with a guy for god knows how long!? Yet you're giving me shit as if I'm the only one in the wrong when you've been lying to me this whole time?"

"You know it's true. I know it's true...we all do."

"That's not true, Mom! Shut up!"

"No, you shut up! You're a fucking hypocrite, Leila! YOU KNOW YOU ARE!"

"I wasn't lying!"

"You were keeping it a secret! Why would you do that!? Why would you not specify that your roommate is your fucking Professor? Do you think that's the craziest shit I've ever heard in my life? It's the guy from the club. It makes sense since he's so young. Why would you not tell me? Why now when you only said it in anger like you wanted to hurt me!? You're sleeping with him aren't you?"

His last sentence simmered into a quiet whistle ⎯ a whistle that danced through my ears, serenading me with its taunting implications. "Answer me, Leila. You're not sleeping with him, are you?"