The Heartbreaker

“Hi,” two of them say. I give a wave. Jagger ignores me completely.

“We have a few slices of pizza left,” Jordan says. “Pepperoni.”

“Thanks.” I feel myself smile a little even though he’s no longer looking at me and I’m already moving to the kitchen and out of their line of vision.

I open the fridge and am pleasantly surprised with how organized it is. Jagger lined up all of the sodas, sports drinks, beer, and water. He also put everything away in a way that’s easy to find, from vegetables to fruits. I grab a bottle of water and open the pantry to see it’s in the same shape as the fridge. I grab a handful of cashews and a banana from the counter. I start eating the cashews because I hate taking things like that to my room.

“What the fuck,” Jordan screams, while Jagger laughs. “Damn you. I thought I had you that time. I’m gonna go outside to smoke.”

“I’ll come with,” one girl says.

“Do you have anything to drink besides water?” another asks.

“Let’s pre-game before the party,” another says.

“Shit. At what time is the party?” Jordan asks.

I walk to my room as they discuss whatever party it is they’re going to. Hopefully they’re going somewhere and it’s not a party that Jagger decided to have here without consulting me. Honestly, even if he somehow decided to pull that, I don’t care. I’m spent. I’d probably sleep through it anyway. I’m pushing my door open when I see Jagger walking in my direction, his light brown eyes taking me in and zoning on my face.

“What happened to you?”

“Huh?” I push my door open and walk in, setting my snacks down on my nightstand along with the folded-up white paper I’ve been holding on to since I saw Lawrence. “What do you mean?”

“Did something happen?” Jagger asks behind me.

“How would you know? It’s not like you even bothered to look at me when I got here or say hello like a cordial human being. Your mother would not be pleased.”

“At least my mother knows I’m living with you.”

“You told her?” I gasp, turning to face him quickly.

“Of course I told her. Don’t worry, she won’t tell Rosa.”

“Right.” I scoff. “Because they don’t gossip all the time.”

“I asked her not to tell your mother and she won’t.”

“Okay.”

“Are you going to tell me what’s wrong?” He searches my eyes and for a moment I think there may be a flicker of concern in his before I look away. Instead of answering, I gather my pajamas and underwear and brush past him, locking myself in the bathroom. Even with the door between us I can see the shadow of his feet on the other side of the door. “Some privacy, please,” I call out.

“You act like I walked in there with you.”

“No, but you’re standing on the other side and I need to pee.”

“Performance problems?” I hear the smirk in his voice and roll my eyes.

“Don’t you have a video game to play? Girls to screw? Whatever it is you were planning on doing before I walked in the house.”

He doesn’t answer, but he does step away from the door and I go back to doing my business. Instead of just washing my hands and going back to my room, I decide to shower. Standing under the spray of warm water always helps me forget my problems. I lose track of how long I’m in there, but when I’m done, I towel dry my hair for a few minutes before getting dressed in my favorite gray cotton shorts and cropped Duke T-shirt. I should get rid of it being that I’m not planning to attend any Duke football games this season, but Misty goes there now so I wear it with pride. I notice Jagger’s door is open as well as mine and the television looks like it’s off. I assume they left and tiptoe to my room, shutting the door behind me.

“So.” Jagger’s voice makes me jump.

“What the hell, Jagger?” I whip around to see him sitting at the edge of my bed, watching me with a bemused expression on his face that I want to slap off.

“You took forever. I bet you used up all the hot water.”

“What are you doing here?”

“Waiting for you to tell me what’s wrong, but I figured it has something to do with this.” He taps the paper on my nightstand.

“You’re going through my stuff?” I walk forward, snatching the paper from the nightstand and backing away quickly. “Get out of my room. I thought we set boundaries.”

“We did.” He stands and walks over to me. “I never said I intended to follow them.”

“What’s the point if you’re not going to follow them?” I know I should lower my voice, but I can’t. I also can’t seem to stop shaking. “I can’t believe you went through my things.”