Down and Out

“Okay, wait, so you and Declan are. . .” Macy turns to face me, her warm, chocolate eyes narrowing as she folds her legs up on the couch. “Roommates?” she asks, grabbing her pint of Chunky Monkey off the coffee table.
Looking down to my own half-eaten pint of Cherry Garcia, I nod and scoop out another healthy dose of the only therapy I can afford. “Roommates” isn’t exactly true, but it’s easier than telling her the truth—that I was living in my car until Declan took me in.
Macy might be a friend, but I’m not ready to share that little tidbit with anyone just yet. I still have my pride, damn it, even if I have scarfed down two pints of Ben & Jerry’s finest already.
“And you slept together,” she says, reiterating what I just told her.
I cringe and nod again, saying, “Twice,” like that could somehow make it okay to do something monumentally stupid.
Macy grins and pops her spoon out of her mouth, pointing it at me. “You’re screwed, you know that, right?”
Groaning, I set my ice cream on Macy’s coffee table. I suddenly don’t feel so good.
“Don’t get me wrong, babe, he’s f*ckin’ hot,” she says, chuckling. Her little term of endearment has me smiling, despite my mini-meltdown.
I’ve really enjoyed hanging out with Macy lately. She’s cool as hell and funny as shit. Who knew?
“I’d trade my left tit for a chance to ride him to O-town, but I’m not the one who has to live with the guy.” She shakes her head, making the curly tendril that escaped her bun bounce. “What the hell were you guys thinking? You never hook-up with your roommate. That’s co-ed living 101.”
Well, apparently I didn’t get the rulebook at orientation. My bad. I sigh and sink back onto the plush, pale blue couch pillows. “What do I do? He’s being such a twat about this whole fight thing.”
Actually, that’s not true. Being a twat would imply he’s being mean, and he’s not. He’s not being anything to me, because he’s avoiding me.
Declan swapped our work schedules since he can’t train right now, so I’m opening and he’s closing. Now I’m gone before he gets up, and he waits until I’m asleep to come home. The only time I see him anymore is when I train right after my shift, but even then he’s usually holed up in his office.
It’s like he saves all his work for the few hours I’m training, so he doesn’t have to come out and see me.
A thud against Macy’s front door makes me jump. Muted sounds of giggling and moaning drift from outside, and Macy rolls her eyes. “Kelsey’s home. Yay.”
Ah. The “roommate from hell,” as she so lovingly puts it.
The door bursts open and in stumbles a mess of tangled limbs, roaming hands, and searching tongues. Kelsey somehow manages to notice us sitting here and turns her head away from the guy trying to eat her face. Her hazel eyes widen as the guy’s fingers knot in her short brown hair, trying to get her to resume the world’s grossest makeout session. “Oh,” she says. “You’re home.”
Jesus, this dude either doesn’t care that he’s got an audience or he’s got a serious case of tunnel vision. And by “tunnel” I mean Kelsey’s vagina, because he’s about two seconds away from unbuttoning her pants right in front of us.
Macy gives them a tight smile. “Sorry. Guess that means you’ll have to screw in your room tonight.”
The guy grins and lifts a squealing Kelsey up in his arms. She wraps her legs around his waist and he says, “If we make it that far,” as he leads them out of the living room and down the hall. A second later, a door shuts loudly and more muted giggling drifts out.
Macy clears her throat and digs her spoon back into the half-melted ice cream. “Sorry ’bout that. They’re not housebroken yet.”
“Geez, you weren’t kidding about her.”
She scoffs. “No shit. Word of advice—never find a roommate off Craigslist.” Her cheeks puff out as she exhales slowly. Swirling her spoon in the lumpy mixture, she lowers her voice and says, “I kind of envy them in a way.”
I snort and grab my ice cream off her coffee table. “What, you want to have sex in public too?”
“No,” she says pointedly, pressing her lips together to keep from smiling. “But it’d be nice to be that passionate about somebody. To get so lost in someone that you have to have them, right then and there, even if there’s no bed.” She frowns and sets her ice cream down. “I’ve never even come close to having that kind of passion with anyone.”
The snarky, jaded part of me wants to roll my eyes and tell Macy that passion’s overrated, but it’s not. It makes you feel alive in a way that nothing else can.
My teeth scrape my lip as I stare down at the pink mess inside my Ben & Jerry’s cup, reliving the heated, spur-of-the-moment car sex Declan and I had. We hadn’t cared where we were. We hadn’t even stopped to make sure no one could see us.
It’s crazy how in two weeks, something that hot can fizzle. Just goes to show that I was right. Nothing lasts forever.
But it sure is fun in the meantime.
Macy shakes her head, like she’s clearing it. “So Declan’s being a twat, huh? Has he said anything to you about the fight?”
I shrug and set the container next to Macy’s, then wipe my hands on my yoga pants. “Don’t do it.”
“That’s it? He hasn’t said why?”
“He’s afraid I’m gonna get hurt.”
Macy arches a brow and looks away. Her expression says, “Well, duh, you will,” as clearly as if she’d said it aloud.
I scowl and look back to the train wreck of a reality show that’s on her TV screen. “That doesn’t help, Mace.”
“Sorry, just. . . Are you sure you want to do the fight? There’s gotta be an easier way to pay for tuition.”
I shoot a glare her way. “You really want to talk to me about taking on a shitty job to make some quick cash?”
Macy’s lucky. She has parents who actually give a shit about her and can afford to pay for her school and books. She only works to cover her half of rent and utilities, which is next to nothing. Things like her car, phone, and insurance are all taken care of by mommy and daddy.
And unless her parents want to adopt me or I decide to sell a kidney, I don’t see a whole lot of other choices for coming up with the kind of money I need.
“Bitch.”
I glance at Macy, seeing her mouth tilted up into a smirk. Only she would think that’s another term of endearment.
Grabbing the throw pillow next to me, I smack her with it, making her laugh. Then I sigh and say, “Why does everybody think I can’t do this? It’s not like I’m fighting to the death or going up against The Hulk. I’m fighting a girl who’s not much bigger than your skinny ass,” I mutter, crossing my arms. “I think I can manage.”
I’m actually starting to feel confident in the ring, and I owe it all to Marcus. His training and encouragement have done wonders. And it helps that he doesn’t give out meaningless compliments. If he says something positive, he means it.
Macy frowns. “Wait, who said you couldn’t do this? Did Declan say that?”
I look away from her, wishing I could sink into the couch and have it swallow me whole. “He didn’t have to.”
“Oh, babe. . .” She pulls me in for a quick hug, and I can’t help but stiffen a little in her arms. Macy’s a hugger, I’ve learned, and I’m apparently just going to have to get used to it.
When I’m finally back in my comfortable bubble of personal space, Macy says, “I’m sure you’ll kick her skinny little ass, but it’s still kinda scary. Declan’s just worried about you. You know how boys are. They’re a bunch of pussies who can’t articulate the big, scary things they’re feeling.” She shrugs. “Maybe you should cut him some slack.”
Declan’s not like most guys. He has no problem articulating anything he’s feeling with that beautiful mouth of his. It’s both a blessing and a curse, because sweet baby Jesus are the things that come out of it hot, and damn it if it isn’t part of why I’m even in this mess to begin with.
Sighing, I glower at Macy. “You’re supposed to be on my side, remember?”
“I am. I’m just saying don’t be too hard on him. He obviously cares about you. . .” She nudges my shoulder and grins. “I mean, how could he not? You’ve got such a winning personality, and all.”
My mouth twitches into a smile. “Bitch.”

The front door opens right as I set our plates on the table.
Perfect timing.
I hurry out into the foyer. Declan pauses when he sees me, lowering his eyes before he shuts and locks the door behind him.
He doesn’t look happy to see me. At all.
Smiling nervously, I hitch my thumb towards the dining nook and say, “You’re just in time for dinner. I made spaghetti.” I purposely stayed up late to cook so we could sit down and eat together. Macy’s right, I should cut him some slack, and this is my attempt at extending an olive branch. I won’t admit I’m wrong or back down from doing the fight, but maybe—hopefully—this can be the first step to getting back to . . . us. Normal. Whatever the hell we were before it all went to shit.
Declan glances at the table, but makes no move to sit down. “You didn’t have to make me dinner if you wanted sex. You could’ve just asked.” His mouth turns up into a cocky smirk. “You know I’m up for it.”
My lips purse as irritation flashes through me, and for the millionth time, I regret walking into the shower on that night. What the hell had I been thinking?
Oh, yeah, that I missed his arrogant, bossy ass and I didn’t want to fight with him. Same thing I was thinking tonight before he walked in and opened his stupid mouth.
I feel a sarcastic comeback brewing, and I smile caustically in return. “No, thanks. I’m not in the mood to be left high and dry tonight.”
Declan’s smug look only grows as he walks past me. “By no means did I leave you dry.”
Okay, now Declan’s being a twat. My face flames as I stalk back into the dining nook and grab the plates, then take them into the kitchen. “You want to be an ass, be an ass. I was only trying to— Never mind.” The plates clatter on the countertop as I dig out a Tupperware container from the cabinet.
“You were only trying to what?” Declan’s voice softens as he comes up behind me.
“Doesn’t matter.”
Declan’s like a stranger now, and it really f*cking hurts to know that I’ve lost the closest thing I ever had to a best friend. And on top of that, I feel stupid for missing him, because he doesn’t seem to feel the same way.
How could he give up on me—on us—so easily? And after everything he said, all the declarations he made about winning me over. . . Were they all just lies? Did he just want in my pants like every other guy?
My mind automatically flits back to that night in the shower. He took what he wanted without any regard for my needs. I might’ve provoked him, and I might’ve instigated the whole thing, but that was still a dick move.
And he says I’m the mean one.
Sex wasn’t even my intention that night. Granted, I knew it was almost guaranteed to happen, but that wasn’t my sole purpose. Believe me, if I just wanted to get off, I’d have done it myself instead of literally baring myself like that. It took a lot of courage to strip in front of him and then get in that shower. I’d been so brazen that night, and it was all for Declan. I wanted to show him that I was still trying—that I still wanted him—and it blew up in my face.
So why am I stubbornly clinging to this little sliver of hope that things will go back to normal? They won’t. I see that now.
I’m afraid the damage that’s been done is irreversible. I feel unwelcome around him now. I don’t think he wants me here, but because of that stupid lease, he can’t ask me to leave.
My throat tightens as I wonder if that’s why he’s being an ass. Maybe he’s anxious for me to take the hint and get the hell out of his apartment already.
Yeah, well, I’ve got your message loud and clear, a*shole.
I’m angrily scooping our uneaten spaghetti into a container when I feel his hand on my shoulder and hear his cajoling, “Talk to me, Kitten.”
Hearing that damn name sets off a kneejerk reaction and I turn and shove Declan’s chest, making him stumble back in surprise. “No.” Tears prick my eyes as my chest aches. It feels like it’s been sliced open.
I’ve missed that nickname for two weeks. I never thought I’d hear it again. Now I wish I hadn’t, because the bittersweet feeling tearing through me is too much to handle.
My hand trembles as I point at him. “You don’t get to call me that anymore. You’ve lost that right.”
Declan wisely doesn’t say anything as I walk around him and head back to my room, slamming the door behind me. He can take the slack I’ve cut him and choke himself with it for all I care.