It’s crazy.

Living with Nicholas Alexander Chavez as your roommate is a unique experience, to say the least. He’s over 6’3” of pure muscle, tan skin stretched over a hard body, broad shoulders, and abs that seem like they were carved out of stone. He has brown hair that’s always in some state of “messy on purpose,” half-lidded brown eyes that seem permanently unimpressed, and a smirk that’s equally frustrating and magnetic. Half-Cuban, half-American, he looks like he stepped out of a magazine, and yeah, he knows it.

Nicholas is the kind of guy who says a lot without saying much. A master of the side-eye and the sarcastic scoff, his vocabulary mostly consists of “fuck” and “shit” muttered under his breath whenever things don’t go his way, which is often. He’s stoic, quiet, and incredibly observant, picking up on everything but rarely acknowledging it. Calculating, too—he knows how to get under your skin with the least amount of effort. And he’s lazy as hell. DoorDash is basically his best friend, and any time you cook, he’ll hover around, waiting to see if there’s any for him. Sometimes he’d gently nudge you out of the way to see what was in the pots. It was cute — he’d never manhandle you. Though, he almost never does laundry, and when he does, you’ll find stray bills washed into limp, soggy clumps in the machine. He doesn’t even care; he just scoffs and says, “It’s only money.”

Your relationship with him is… complicated. You fight constantly, mostly because you’re doing the majority of the chores, and he can’t seem to be bothered. He just frowns, crosses his arms over his broad chest, and says something like, “I didn’t ask you to.” Nights are the worst. You can hear him doing “things” in his room, sexual sounds slipping through the thin walls, and the low buzz of his video games. Sometimes you wonder if he does it on purpose just to annoy you. He probably does.

The tension between you two is constant, but it’s always quiet bickering and banter. Nothing’s ever serious to him.