"I'm sorry about before. I misunderstood. I shouldn't have treated you like that."

Zachary held the food out.

"It's for you. An apology."

I stared at what he was carrying, my mind completely blank.

How did he know I wanted those noodles?

I'd never told him.

After that, things became even stranger.

I didn't have to send a message. At mealtimes, Zachary appeared with two portions of food.

Any packages that arrived were placed neatly on my desk.

There was only so much hostility I could maintain toward someone who kept bringing me things.

After everything he was doing, continuing to glare at him would have made me seem petty.

So I started nodding when we passed each other. Sometimes I even managed a smile.

But I still complained to Z.

Me: My roommate has been acting so weird lately. He's hovering around me like a mosquito. Should I find him a therapist?

Z: Maybe he realized he was wrong and wants to make it up to you.

Z: Do you still hate him that much, baby?

I frowned and considered it.

Me: Not really. I'll just treat him like any other classmate. We won't see each other after graduation anyway.

Then I added another message.

Me: You're my lucky star, babe. Ever since we agreed to meet, everything's been going better. Even that jerk has started acting normal.

Z: That's good.

How cold.

A mischievous idea occurred to me.

I lifted the hem of my shirt, angled my phone toward the mirror, and took a photograph.

My waist. My stomach.

And just a little of something else.

Me: This one's for you. Can I see a picture of your abs, babe? For extra luck?

I added an innocent kitten sticker and waited eagerly for his reply.

Across the room, there was a sudden crash.

Zachary had shot to his feet.

His chair scraped harshly across the floor.

In the quiet apartment, it sounded deafening.

I flinched, then immediately got angry.

He'd been treating me with so much deference lately that I'd been waiting for a chance to get my own back.

Now he'd handed me one.

How could I possibly waste it?

"Would you be more careful? Does the chair owe you money? You're always making a scene. You're so annoying."

He'd said much worse to me before.

I even had my next line ready.

All he had to do was snap back, and I could finally return some of the humiliation he'd put me through.

Zachary slowly turned toward me.

His neck was faintly pink, nothing like his usual icy self.

His lips parted as though he was struggling to suppress something. His throat bobbed.

When he spoke, his voice was hoarse.

"Sorry."

Then he turned and hurried into the bathroom, his steps almost unsteady.

A moment later, water began running inside.

I sat on my bed, completely lost.

What was wrong with him now?

Was he running low on water? Was that why he needed a shower so urgently?

A message from Z appeared.

Z: You're so beautiful, baby. I like it so much.

Z: You're driving me crazy.

Z: Only I get to see that. Nobody else.

Z: Can I touch you when we meet tomorrow?

The day arrived before I knew it.

In the end, I chose a hotel.

Z didn't object. He seemed to understand what that meant.

The night before, I secretly took out the dresses I'd prepared and tried them on one by one.

The skirts were too short. The necklines were too low. The fabric was too sheer.

They barely covered anything.

Cheap really did mean cheap.

But it was too late to order something better. Even returning them would take too long.

They would have to do.

They were coming off anyway.

Before leaving, I slung my bag over my shoulder and checked my hair in the mirror.

As I turned, I caught sight of Zachary standing in front of another mirror.

He wore a sharply cut black shirt with the sleeves rolled to his forearms.

His shoulders were broad, and the sunlight traced the clean lines of his pale profile.

He almost looked respectable.

Still couldn't hide the fact that he was a complete asshole underneath.

I rolled my eyes to myself.

Whoever he was meeting today had my deepest sympathies.

Good luck to her.