Chapter 4The Jock, The Catfish, and My Bed

I went back to my desk. He saw the box on my chair. "What did you buy?"

I lied without blinking. "Shoes."

Ethan frowned slightly, looking at the box again.

My heart skipped a beat. I kicked the box under the desk.

It's just a plain cardboard box, right? The logo is tiny. He bought it online; he shouldn't know what the shipping box looks like.

I calmed down. This is what happens when you do bad things; you get paranoid.

I really regretted it sometimes.

I remembered the day I overheard them. The door wasn't fully closed.

"Sht, he... likes men? Sht, hope he doesn't look at me."

I rolled my eyes outside. Look in a mirror, I have standards.

Then another roommate: "Nah, heard Luca has someone he likes."

Then, that voice I thought was so nice said coldly: "Disgusting."

Crack.

My filter for Ethan shattered.

I wanted to burst in, but I chickened out and sat on the lawn for ten minutes feeling sad.

I thought we were okay. Not friends, but civil. I didn't know he was like that.

From then on, the other two avoided me but sucked up to Ethan. I blamed him for everything.

So I decided to gross him out.

Now, there's no turning back.

Not only did I not reflect on my actions, I felt I was losing out.

Emotional labor is exhausting.

I picked up my phone, switched to the alt account.

[Annie: Hubby, show me your... you know.]

I sent it, then panicked and recalled the message immediately.

Ahhh! Too far!

My face burned red.

I slammed the phone face down.

I peeked at the handsome guy next door. He was staring at his screen, brows furrowed, expression subtle.

Did he see it?

He didn't reply. Probably ignored it.

I'm used to it. Being a lick-dog for revenge is a losing business. Never again.