Jesse Goes Str8 - Chapter Four
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The Return of the Water
As Jesse experiments with strength and proximity, the mermaid reappears—not just as a dream, but as a reminder that some urges don’t disappear when ignored. They wait.
By the third morning, I realized the problem wasn’t that Caleb and Liam were loud.
It was that they were comfortable.
They moved through the room as if it belonged to them already, even though it didn’t. Or maybe it did, now. They didn’t ask permission to open drawers or claim desk space. They didn’t apologize for the smell of protein powder or whatever citrusy body wash Caleb used that made the air feel scrubbed clean and aggressively awake.
They just… existed.
I lay on my back pretending to check my phone while they talked above me, their voices blending into something low and steady. Caleb laughed at something Liam said. Liam corrected him. It sounded like a rhythm they’d been keeping long before me.
I wondered, not for the first time, how long it would take before I disappeared into the background of my own room.
“Hey,” Caleb said suddenly. “You ever work out?”
I didn’t look up right away. “Like… emotionally?”
Liam snorted.
“I mean the gym,” Caleb said. “We’re heading there. You’re welcome to come.”
Welcome felt like the wrong word. It implied I had been waiting.
“I’m good,” I said. “I’ve got class.”
“It’s Saturday,” Liam said.
“Independent study,” I replied, which was technically true if you counted lying still and thinking as research.
Caleb shrugged. “Suit yourself.”
They left in a burst of motion—keys, shoes, bodies brushing past mine. The door closed behind them, and suddenly the room felt too quiet, like a joke had just ended and everyone else was already laughing somewhere else.
I sat up slowly.
The mirror across from my bed caught me mid-movement. Shirt rumpled. Hair doing that thing where it tries to look intentional and fails. I didn’t hate what I saw, exactly. But I didn’t recognize it either.
I thought about Zoe.
Not in a dramatic way. Just… her door. Her laugh. The way she leaned too close when she talked, like distance was optional. I told myself I needed to check on her, housing-wise. Practical reasons. Normal reasons.
I stopped at my desk instead of heading out right away. The room felt too quiet, like it was waiting to see what I’d do next. I peeled off my shirt, then my jeans, until I was standing there in just my underwear, the air cooler against my skin than I expected.
The mirror caught me before I could look away.
