ROOM 7
Chapter Nineteen: The Roast
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The bruises faded over the next week.
Jay's cheek went from purple to green to yellow. Her knuckles scabbed over, then healed. Keifer's hands did the same. They moved around the room like mirrors of each other—matching wounds, matching silences, matching looks that said things neither of them voiced.
The room stopped hovering. Yuri stopped asking if they were okay. Mica stopped leaving extra food by their beds. Things settled. Not back to normal—something had shifted after that night—but into something new. Something that didn't need words.
Jay noticed things she hadn't noticed before.
The way Keifer checked the locks before bed. The way he positioned himself between her and the door when they walked anywhere. The way his jaw tightened when someone knocked too loud or moved too fast. He thought she didn't see. She saw everything.
She also noticed he wasn't sleeping.
---
Part One: The Setup
"You look terrible," Jay said across the breakfast table.
Keifer looked up from his coffee. "Good morning to you too."
"I'm serious. You look like you haven't slept in days."
"I've slept."
"When? I've been watching."
He raised an eyebrow. "You've been watching me sleep?"
"I've been watching you not sleep. There's a difference."
He set his cup down. "I'm fine."
"You're not fine. You're walking around like a ghost. You put salt in your coffee yesterday."
"That was one time."
"You put your shirt on backwards last week."
"The lighting was bad."
"It was noon."
"The sun was in my eyes."
"Inside?"
"The sun is powerful."
She stared at him. He stared back. Around them, the room had gone quiet. Yuri was holding his spoon in mid-air. Lyra was grinning. Mica had her hand over her mouth.
"You're a disaster," Jay said.
"I'm a functional disaster."
"You're a barely functional disaster."
"Same thing."
"It's not the same thing."
"It's our thing."
She picked up a napkin. Threw it at him. He caught it.
"You have a catching problem," she said.
"You have a throwing problem."
"I have a you problem."
"The worst kind."
She grabbed another napkin. Held it up. "I'm going to keep throwing things until you admit you haven't been sleeping."
"I've been sleeping."
"You've been staring at the ceiling."
"I was thinking."
"About what?"
He opened his mouth. Closed it. His ears went red.
"See?" she said. "You don't even have an answer."
"I have an answer."
"Then say it."
He looked at her. "I was thinking about the way you said my name when you walked into the room that night."
The napkin dropped from her hand.
"Full name," he continued. "Mark Keifer Watson. You said it like you were angry. Like you were scared. Like you were—" He stopped.
The room was silent. Yuri's spoon clattered onto his plate.
"You said it like you were calling me home," Keifer finished.
Jay's face went through several shades of red. Her hands found another napkin. She threw it. He caught it.
"I'm going to need more napkins," she said.
"I'm going to need more hands."
"Then grow more hands."
"That's not how biology works."
"That's how our biology works."
Lyra snorted. Mica covered her face. Yuri was openly laughing now.
---
Part Two: The Roast Begins
By noon, Jay had assembled an audience. The whole room gathered in the common area, drawn by the sound of her voice and the promise of entertainment.
"Sit down," she said, pointing at the couch.
Keifer sat. "What is this?"
"This is an intervention."
"For my sleep?"
"For your everything."
She stood in front of him, arms crossed, looking down at him like a prosecutor about to deliver a closing argument.
"Mark Keifer Watson," she began.
"Uh oh," Yuri whispered.
"Born twenty years ago. Firstborn of the Watson shipping empire. Competitive. Charming. Annoying."
"Annoying is subjective."
"Annoying is objective. I have witnesses."
Lyra raised her hand. Yuri raised his. Mica raised hers. Calix raised his. Care raised hers. Cole raised his. Freya raised her camera.
"See?" Jay said.
Keifer looked at the raised hands. "I feel attacked."
"You should. You've been awake for approximately one hundred and sixty-eight hours."
"That's an exaggeration."
"It's a calculation. I did math."
"You hate math."
"I hate you more."
"You don't hate me."
"I hate you right now."
"You don't hate me right now."
"What do I hate?"
He leaned back on the couch. "You hate that I'm always right."
She grabbed a pillow from the chair behind her. Held it up.
"You wouldn't," he said.
"Watch me."
She hit him with the pillow. It smacked him square in the face.
The room erupted. Yuri fell off his chair. Lyra was crying with laughter. Mica had given up pretending to be calm. Calix was holding her up. Care and Cole were arguing about pillow fight regulations.
Keifer pulled the pillow away. His hair was a mess. His face was red. He was laughing.
"You hit me," he said.
"You deserved it."
"With a pillow."
"With a pillow. Next time it'll be a book."
"You wouldn't hit me with a book."
"I would hit you with the dictionary."
"That's a thousand pages."
"Exactly."
He threw the pillow back at her. She caught it.
"Now who has a catching problem?" he said.
"I don't have a catching problem. I have a Keifer problem."
"The worst kind."
---
Part Three: The Roast Continues
She wasn't done.
She picked up another pillow. Held it like a shield. "Let's talk about your sleeping habits."
"Let's not."
"You fall asleep at your desk. You fall asleep on the couch. You fell asleep in the library last week and Yuri had to carry you home."
"That was one time."
"You fell asleep standing up yesterday."
"I was resting my eyes."
"You were snoring."
"I don't snore."
"You snore. Freya has video evidence."
Freya held up her phone. "I have video evidence."
Keifer stared at her. "You've been filming me sleep?"
"I've been documenting. There's a difference."
"There's no difference."
"Documenting is scientific. Filming is creepy. I'm being scientific."
He buried his face in his hands. Jay grabbed another pillow.
"You have a problem," she said.
"I have a roommate who throws things at me."
"I have a roommate who thinks he can function on two hours of sleep."
"I function fine."
"You put salt in your coffee."
"That was—"
"You put your shirt on backwards."
"The sun—"
"You tried to open the door with your ID card yesterday."
He opened his mouth. Closed it.
"For ten minutes," Jay added. "You stood there, swiping your ID card against the door, wondering why it wasn't opening. David had to show you that you were at the wrong building."
Yuri was on the floor again. Lyra had tears streaming down her face. Mica was holding her stomach. Calix was trying to stay upright. Care had given up on pretending to be calm. Cole was laughing so hard he couldn't argue.
Keifer's face was the color of a tomato. "I was distracted."
"By what?"
He looked at her. "By you."
The room went quiet again.
"You were standing by the window," he said. "The light was hitting your hair. You were smiling at something on your phone. I forgot what I was doing."
She stared at him. Her face was red. Her hands were gripping the pillow.
"That's not—" she started.
"It's the truth."
"You can't just say things like that."
"I just did."
"While I'm roasting you."
"You're the one who started throwing pillows."
"Because you're a disaster."
"A disaster who was distracted by you."
She grabbed another pillow. Held it up. "I have more pillows."
"I have more truths."
"You're impossible."
"You like it."
She threw the pillow. He caught it. She grabbed another. Threw it. He caught it. Another. Another. He caught them all, piling them in his lap, laughing the whole time.
"You have too many pillows," he said.
"You have too many opinions."
"My opinions are facts."
"Your facts are wrong."
"My facts are correct."
She grabbed the last pillow. Held it up. "Say one more thing."
He looked at her. "You're beautiful when you're angry."
She threw the pillow. He caught it. She had nothing left to throw.
"I win," he said.
"You caught pillows. That's not winning."
"I caught everything you threw at me."
"You caught pillows. I threw pillows. That's not a competition."
"Everything's a competition with you."
"Then why aren't you winning?"
He looked at the pillows in his lap. At her empty hands. At her red face and her messy hair and the way she was trying not to smile.
"Because I'd rather watch you throw things," he said.
She picked up a napkin from the table. Threw it at him. He caught it.
"That's a napkin," he said.
"It's all I have left."
"Then you're out of ammunition."
"I'm out of pillows. I'm not out of ammunition."
"What else do you have?"
She looked around the room. At the pillows. At the napkins. At the audience watching them.
She picked up a chip from David's bag. Threw it. He caught it. Ate it.
"Thanks," he said. "I was hungry."
She grabbed another chip. Threw it. He caught it. Ate it.
"These are good," he said. "David, where did you get these?"
David pointed at the bag. Keifer picked it up. Ate another chip.
"Those are David's chips," Jay said.
"They're my chips now."
"You can't just take David's chips."
"I caught them. They're mine."
"That's not how catching works."
"That's how our catching works."
She stared at him. He stared back. The room was silent.
"I hate you," she said.
"You don't hate me."
"I hate you right now."
"You don't hate me right now."
"What do I hate?"
He stood up. Walked toward her. The pillows fell from his lap. The chips were forgotten.
He stopped in front of her. Close. Too close.
"You hate that I know you," he said. "You hate that I know you keep the shark on your pillow. You hate that I know you drink my coffee even when it's cold. You hate that I know you talk in your sleep."
She went still. "I don't talk in my sleep."
"You do. Last night you said 'Keifer stop being so—'" He stopped.
"So what?"
He smiled. "You fell asleep before you could finish."
She stared at him. Her face was on fire. Her hands were fists. Her heart was pounding.
"I'm going to need more pillows," she said.
"I'm going to need more time."
"Time for what?"
He looked at her. "Time to figure out what you were going to say."
She grabbed his shirt. Pulled him down. Her face was inches from his.
"I was going to say 'Keifer stop being so impossible,'" she said.
"That's not what you were going to say."
"Yes it is."
"You're lying."
"I'm not lying."
"Your face is red."
"It's the heat."
"It's December."
"GLOBAL WARMING."
He laughed. She let go of his shirt. He didn't move away.
"You're impossible," she said.
"You like it."
"I don't not like it."
He was still close. Still looking at her. Still not moving.
From across the room, Yuri's voice: "ARE YOU TWO GOING TO KISS OR JUST STAND THERE?"
"WE'RE STANDING THERE!"
"YOUR FACES SAY KISSING!"
"OUR FACES ARE NEUTRAL!"
"YOUR FACES ARE NEVER NEUTRAL!"
"YURI!"
"JAY!"
Keifer laughed. Jay tried not to smile. She failed.
---
Part Four: The Night
The room settled slowly after that.
People drifted to their beds. The lights went out. The city hummed outside the window. The pillows were collected. The chips were eaten. The napkins were thrown away.
Jay lay in her bed, staring at the ceiling. The shark was beside her. She could hear him across the room. His breathing was uneven. He was shifting every few minutes. Tossing. Turning. Not sleeping.
She waited. Ten minutes. Twenty. Thirty.
His breathing didn't even out.
She heard his feet hit the floor. Heard him walk across the room. The floorboards creaked. His footsteps were quiet. Familiar.
He stopped beside her bed.
She didn't move. Didn't turn around. She felt the mattress dip. Felt him lie down behind her. His arm went over her waist. His chest pressed against her back. His forehead was against her hair.
She let him hold her.
They lay like that for a long time. His breathing was uneven. His fingers were curled into her shirt. His body was tense against hers.
She turned around.
His arms were still around her. Her face was inches from his. The moonlight came through the window, cutting lines across his cheek.
"Can't sleep?" she asked.
"No."
She reached up. Touched his face. Her fingers traced the shadows under his eyes. The line of his jaw. The corner of his mouth.
"What's wrong?" she asked.
He looked at her. His eyes were dark. Tired. Full of things he wasn't saying.
"I keep thinking about the door," he said.
"What door?"
"The door to the room. That night. When you came back." His voice was low. Rough. "I keep thinking about what would have happened if you didn't come back."
She moved closer. Her forehead touched his.
"I came back," she said.
"What if you didn't?"
"I did."
He closed his eyes. His arms tightened around her. His face was against her hair.
"Tell me something," he said.
"What?"
"Anything. Just—keep talking."
She was quiet for a moment. Then: "Remember the first time you made me coffee?"
He didn't answer.
"You left it on my desk. I didn't ask for it. You just put it there. Black. No sugar. I didn't drink it."
He lifted his head. Looked at her. "You didn't?"
"It sat there for an hour. I stared at it. I told myself I wasn't going to drink it. I told myself it didn't mean anything."
"What happened?"
She touched his face. "It got cold. I drank it anyway."
He stared at her. "Why?"
She looked at him. "Because you made it for me."
He was quiet for a long time. His eyes were on her face. His fingers were in her hair.
"Jay."
"Yeah."
"I'm going to sleep now."
"Okay."
"Will you be here when I wake up?"
She pulled him closer. His face was against her neck. His breathing was slowing.
"Yeah," she said. "I'll be here."
His arms tightened around her. His body relaxed. His breathing evened out. Slowed. Deepened.
She watched him sleep. The tension leaving his face. The shadows under his eyes softening. The way his hand was still in her hair, even in sleep, like he was afraid she'd disappear.
She didn't disappear.
She lay there, in his arms, in the dark, and let herself be held.
---
Part Five: The Morning
Jay woke to sunlight and warmth.
His arms were still around her. His face was buried in her hair. He was still asleep. He hadn't moved all night.
She didn't move. She lay there, watching the light move across the ceiling, listening to him breathe. His chest rose and fell. His hand was on her back. His legs were tangled with hers.
She should get up. People would be waking soon. Yuri would yell. Freya would take photos. The whole room would see.
She didn't get up.
His breathing changed. Slowed. Deepened. He was waking.
"Jay?"
His voice was rough. Sleepy.
"Morning," she said.
"You're still here."
"I said I would be."
He pulled her closer. Buried his face in her hair. "What time is it?"
"Late."
"We slept."
"We slept."
"All night."
"All night."
He lifted his head. Looked at her. His eyes were clear. The shadows were gone. His face was the most beautiful thing she'd ever seen.
"Thank you," he said.
"For what?"
He touched her face. His fingers traced her cheekbone. "For being here."
She smiled. "I'm always here."
He smiled back. "I know."
They lay there, in the morning light, not moving, not talking.
From across the room, Yuri's voice: "ARE THEY—"
"Don't," Lyra whispered.
"BUT THEY'RE—"
"Yuri. Don't."
"But—"
"Don't."
The room was quiet.
Jay and Keifer lay in her bed, in the morning light, and let the world wait.
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End of Chapter Nineteen