Smith
"Daya, are you fucking kidding me," I hiss in a low tone. She sighs at my upsetness while going towards the closet. "You're actually being serious right now?"
The girl sighs once again. "My cousin is sleeping over tomorrow and using the guest room," Dayanara explains while shoving a stack of blankets and pillows into my arms. "It's just for a few days."
Just a few days? These few days are going to feel like a million. I don't want to imagine the amount of arguments we're going to have if we share not only a room, but also a bed. "Why can't Diego sleep on the couch?"
"Because if anyone accidentally wakes him at 5am, he'll be pissed," she remarks.
How is that my problem? How is any of this my goddamn problem? "So, why can't I sleep on the couch?"
Dayanara groans at my attempt to argue my way out of this. I think we both know that I have no chance of getting my way. "Mateo doesn't want to share a bed because apparently Diego kicks in his sleep." Great. Fucking great. "You two need to learn to get along. You've known him for almost 15 years."
"Yeah, and I'll despise him for 15 more." I don't want to use the word hate since it's such a strong word, but it seems like the best one to use right now. There's probably more vulgar, powerful words I can use to describe how I feel right now. "Why can't-"
"Smith, you're sharing a room with Diego whether you like it or not."
I rather sleep on the porch and freeze to death than spend an extra second with Diego.
Dayanara begins setting the bed, making sure to put more than enough space between the pillows and blankets. However, I don't think there's enough space in the world that can be put between Diego and I. I could be across the world from that boy, and it still wouldn't be far enough.
Steam rolls off of me, and my best friend doesn't fail to notice. "Look, you don't need to become his bestie, but you need to be civil, at least. I'm tired of you two being dicks to each other." A deep scowl remains on my face. There's nothing in the world that can brighten my mood right now."It's not like you have to spend every minute with him. Just at night."
And in the mornings. Why would I want to see Diego the second I wake up? It's hard enough for me to get up when it's freezing outside, seeing Diego to moment I open my eyes won't help.
"I'm sleeping on the rocking chair," I declare, pointing to the wooden structure tucked in the corner of the room.
"Okay, Smith, okay."
After grabbing our bags from the vehicle and helping each other unpack, Dayanara leaves to settle down for bed. I complain to her for a handful of minutes, which she waves me off while saying, "you'll survive." I don't know if I'll survive, though.
What if Diego stabs me in my sleep? Or strangles me? Or suffocates me with a pillow? Or shave my head in my sleep? I'm nothing without my hair, so he better not.
When I go back to the room, Diego is out of sight. Before I can wonder where he's at, a melodic sound comes from the bathroom. Diego's voice mixes with a song, the sounds harmonizing together in the most beautiful way possible. As much as I hate to admit it, but Diego has the singing voice of a literal angel. If he were a musician, I'd listen to him on repeat. Secretly, of course.
I stare at the bed and frown. How are we going to do this? Maybe we can just...not speak? Will that work? I doubt it. We tried that on the drive up here and still had tension. A breath passes through my lips at the little hope I have left in this trip going remotely well.
