Rooming with the Wicked

18 | my friend

The universe decided that digging deeper into Vespyrea wasn't in my foreseeable future. All my professors seemed to have conspired to make this week an absolute academic hell. With Halloween and the Capture the Flag tournament coming up, everyone's focus was elsewhere anyway, and maybe they figured that would be the perfect time to spring multiple papers, another group project, and an entire lab day on us.

Sure, there were worse things than eight hours of combined alchemy and herbology, but not when I'd finally figured out where I could maybe uncover some more information about not only Vespyrea but the situation in Ardua too. But alas, it wasn't meant to be. At least not until I finished this last stupid protocol and one more paper. Great.

By the time I slammed my copy of How To Expand Your Mind shut for the last time four hours later—who knew mental enhancing elixirs were such a pain?—I was wiped. And it wasn't even noon yet. Weren't Fridays supposed to be relaxing? Where was that anticipated feeling of accomplishment and satisfaction?

Too bad a nice long nap was out of the question until I returned from New York. If I wanted to beat Dad to his office, I only had until five if I was extremely unlucky, and maybe seven or eight if he was putting in a few extra hours again. That wasn't unlikely, but my luck was notoriously bad, so I couldn't exactly count on that being the case.

The fridge door opened, and even though I couldn't see due to my curtain, it was pretty obvious someone was taking their time rummaging through the majority of its contents. Bottles clinked, packages crinkled, and then someone sighed loudly. A moment later, the door was shut again, followed by a low curse.

Naturally, I couldn't resist poking the bear.

"If you're looking for dew juice to steal, you won't find any," I said.

Silence.

Swift footsteps approached my niche and a shadow appeared in the thin gap between the curtain and the floor.

"Alright, Cupcake," a deep, almost too calm voice said, "hand over the peanut butter."

"What makes you think I have any?"

"Please, you've been living off PB&Js, instant noodles, and those poisonous-looking smoothies for the past week."

How... Was everyone just naturally more perceptive than me? I couldn't even remember what I'd eaten this morning, but maybe that was the problem. And those smoothies were delicious and healthy, thank you very much.

I snatched my half-empty jar of precious peanut butter and stuffed it into the bottom drawer, right behind my alchemy notebooks. Perfectly hidden. Knowing his general avoidance of schoolwork, he wouldn't think to look there even if he somehow managed to come in here.

"Don't you have something better to do than worry about other people's eating habits?" I asked.

"Nope," he drawled. "Now hand it over."

"Sorry, Zee Zee, I'm all out."

Just when I thought this conversation was over, he asked, "Then what did you just hide in your drawer?"

Dang these supernaturals and their stupid supernatural hearing.

"None of your business, that's what," I grumbled, but it didn't sound nearly as hostile as I'd hoped. I was not going soft. No. This week had just been way too exhausting.

Then why had I initiated this fun little conversation? Right, because even on a bad day, riling him up even a little bit was just too tempting.

"Fine," Haze said coolly, and I could practically see him shrugging nonchalantly on the other side of the drape. "Guess you don't want your neat little study cards back either..."