Page 4 of Balance

I ordered a selection of dishes from an airport restaurant, sticking to safe foods, things that most people liked. I got a medium pepperoni pizza. A burger with an order of fries. I even ordered a mushroom alfredo in case he was vegetarian.

By the time the food arrived, Troye was still in the bathroom, though the shower had turned off.

“I ordered us dinner,” I said through the door. “Did you want to come out and eat, or should I just leave food at the door? I will need to use the bathroom eventually, though, so you can’t stay in there all night long.”

Troye’s response was muffled, but he’d definitely told me to eat shit.

I grinned. “Well, I’ll be eating my choice of the food I bought, or you can come out and have first pick. The choice is yours.”

I went over to the small desk they’d tucked against the wall and laid the food out. I was about to make my selection when the bathroom door opened. Troye came out, still sulking.

The fact that the room only had one bed hadn’t seemed to bother him. Or maybe he hadn’t noticed.

“I didn’t know what you liked, so I grabbed a few things. Pepperoni pizza, a cheeseburger with fries, and a mushroom alfredo.”

Troye stomped over to the desk and opened each container before settling on taking the pizza, and then the mushroom alfredo. He shot me a look like he was daring me to challenge him on his decisions. But I didn’t care. Secretly I liked that he was still working himself up. He’d tire himself out eventually, and then he’d either calm down or crash out. I was prepared for either.

I grabbed my burger and fries and went to my side of the bed and sat down. Leaning against the headboard, I rested my food in my lap, mirroring Troye perfectly.

“What are you doing?” he asked. His hands stilled, the pizza box open, but the food remained untouched while he gaped at me.

Flipping open the cardboard container my food was in, I snatched a fry up and bit it in half. “Eating.”

I grabbed a different fry and held it out to him. Two people could play the brat game. I knew perfectly well what he meant, but playing stupid was infinitely more fun. “Want a fry?”

“I don’t want a fry. I want… what are you doing in my bed?”

“Well… there’s two people. There’s one bed. So unless there’s a spare bed in your backpack, it looks like we’ll be sharing tonight.”

The color drained from Troye’s face, and I’d have found his reaction funny if he didn’t look genuinely upset.

“What?” he squeaked. “I thought… usually there’s like a fucking couch or something. Where’s the couch?”

“No couch. Just a bed and a super uncomfortable cuck chair.”

“A what?” Troye blinked at me, then shook his head. “I don’t care, actually. And I might share my room, but I draw the line at sharing my bed.”

“I’m not sleeping on the floor.”

“Then sleep in the bathtub. Or in the cuck chair.”

“I’ll stay on my half, I promise. You can even have your pick of the blankets. You won’t even know I’m here.”

“I promise you that’s not possible.” He glowered at me. “I’m not sharing my bed.”

“Well, I’m not sleeping on the floor. If you want to, be my guest.”

Troye wrinkled his nose. “I try to make a habit of staying off the floor of public spaces.”

“I wasn’t exactly thrilled about the idea of sleeping on the floor at the gate either. So thank you for letting me stay in your room. As much as this whole thing is your fault, I still appreciate it.”

Troye’s stomach let out an angry-sounding growl that went on so long that his eyes widened and some color returned to his cheeks.

“Eat up,” I told him, motioning to the pizza.

He sighed then closed the box and set it on the bed between us.

“I probably can’t eat the whole pizza and the mushroom alfredo. So we might as well share the pizza.”