KOA
I pull into my parking spot in front of my townhouse and shut the engine off on my car. Releasing a long yawn, I rub my eyes attempting to wake up.
I keep telling myself this is the last time I'll go see her, that she doesn’t need me watching over her every shift, and she can handle herself just fine.
I’m going to wear myself out giving 100 percent to my team, balancing classes, and keeping an eye on Sydney every other night into the early morning.
I don’t know how to stop. I tried staying home once. I lasted all of thirty-six minutes before I was grabbing my keys and heading out the door to check on her. That’s what I convince myself I’m doing and it has nothing to do with my need to be near her.
The television flashes through the curtains covering the living room window as I approach the front door. Which roommate will it be?
Wyatt and Wren bickering over who committed the crime on their documentary?
Nash and his buddy Eli or Gage playing video games?
Hart waiting for Lauren to come home from work?
The last scenario would be preferred. Hart and Wyatt both know where I go when we have a night off and she’s working. Hart, however, won’t give me shit about it. He said his piece months ago.
Wyatt on the other hand enjoys heckling me. My only advantage in this situation is he’ll be with his best friend, Wren, and she doesn’t let him get away with anything.
I open the door, drop my head, and inwardly groan when I see it’s Wyatt and Wren on the couch. If I don’t engage with them, maybe they won’t notice me slip into the kitchen and then upstairs to my room.
“The son did it,” Wyatt says, pointing at the television. He’s sitting on the couch with Wren’s legs draped over his lap.Only friends? I call bullshit.There is definitely something more going on there.
“He did not. What’s his motive? He finds his father annoying? If that’s the case, there would be a lot less people on this earth,” Wren snarks as I walk into the kitchen.
“I don’t like what you’re insinuating. Who do you think it was? Colonel Mustard in the library with the candlestick?”
I quietly grab a bottle of water from the fridge and pull out fixings for a sandwich.
“You can’t actually kill someone with a candlestick,” Wren replies.
“How do you know? Have you tried?” Wyatt fires back at her.
“No. I haven’t. A candlestick might be a blunt object but I doubt it’s heavy enough to cause enough damage. Even with a significant amount of force, it would take several strikes. A number of things could go wrong in that amount of time.”
“How would you kill someone then?”
I wish I could sit in the living room and watch the two of them while I eat. They are more entertaining than any reality show I’ve ever seen.
“Poison is a solid choice if done correctly. It would be easier to hide and less to clean up. I’ve watched enough of these shows to learn from their mistakes.”
“It’s scary how fast you answered that,” Wyatt grumbles.
“There’s nothing to worry about until I start insisting on making all of your meals,” she says, as I tiptoe past them toward the stairs.
“And where do you think you’re going so fast, young man? Do you have any idea what time it is? Your curfew was two hours ago,” Wyatt says as soon as my foot hits the bottom step.So close.
“Upstairs to bed. Goodnight,” I reply.
“Is all that lurking making you hungry?” He nods toward my plate of food.
“You have no right to question his habits. You followed me around campus for weeks,” Wren tells him.
“We aren’t talking about me right now, birdie.”
“Your generosity to let someone else have the spotlight for once is inspiring,” she deadpans.
