The Roommate Agreement

Instead of the book-loving girl making the hottest guy fall in love with her, we became best friends.

Now, that asshole was in my spare room, still not on the tenancy officially, and was eating all my goddamn Oreos.

Things had to change.

I had to face the facts: Jay wasn’t going to move out anytime soon.

That wasn’t necessarily a bad thing. I mean, I still needed help with the rent, so I’d just end up having to find a new roommate anyway. Keeping the pain in the ass one I already had seemed like less of a risk than trying to find someone else.

Besides, I had Jay’s mom’s phone number if he annoyed me too much, and I wasn’t afraid to use it. Not to mention that the woman loved me; she often referred to me as the daughter she never had.

I wasn’t sure if that was because she wanted me to actually be her daughter or if she liked having somebody else be ‘bad cop’ when she didn’t like his girlfriends.

As the best friend, that was my job. Right? Weed out the weak and all that.

It had absolutely nothing to do with the fact I had a minor crush on him. Nope. Not at all.

Okay, maybe it did. But in my defense, the crush was relatively new. There’s only so many times you can see your best friend wandering around in a towel, still wet from the shower before it starts to do things to you.

Namely, turn your clitoris into a little heathen.

Because let me tell you this: I do not need to get turned on while flipping pancakes in the morning. Or making a ham sandwich. Or cooking dinner. Or sweeping the floors because the man has the schedule of a two-year-old who’s been left in charge of the day’s activities.

Not like me. No. I like my schedule. I wake up at the same time, eat at the same time, work at the same time and, for the most part, sleep at the same time.

A bit like a cat.

No matter how anal Jay tells me I am, it doesn’t change this: I work from home. If I don’t have a schedule and set work hours, I’ll spend all day lounging in front of the TV wearing last week’s sweatpants and no bra while eating my weight in Cheetos.

Then I’d need three roomies to pay the rent, and I was just about coping with one.

I picked my phone up from where I’d left it on my bed and checked it. I had a ton of Instagram notifications, so I sat down and scrolled, clearing all of those before I checked my email.

I had an email from earlier this morning asking about my ghostwriting rates, so I tapped out a quick response with a note that I hoped to hear from them soon.

Two knocks rattled my door right as I clicked off the email app. “What?”

“Can I come in?” Jay’s voice crept through the crack.

“Sure.”

The door creaked open, and he poked his head through the gap. “I cleaned up. I couldn’t find the vacuum, but I did find the broom and swept, so that’s halfway there.”

It wasn’t, but I’d already gotten on his back enough today. “Thanks. I can vacuum soon. I have some work to do while you’re out and it’s quiet.”

He nodded, pulling his lips up to one side. “I’ll buy you two packets of Oreos on the way back from work. How’s that for an apology?”

“It’s a start,” I replied, trying to glare at him, but my smile was too intense to fight. “Thank you.”

“I’d say you’re welcome, but I owe you.” He shrugged. “I’m going to work. Do you need me to grab anything else while I’m at the store?”

“Do you know where the dishwasher tablets are?”

He stared at me like I was speaking Japanese.

I sighed. “Just water, then. Go to work, loser.”

He grinned and did just that.

CHAPTER TWO – SHELBY

Get The Fuck Off My Oreos

Brie looked at me across the table, a fry dangling between her finger and thumb. “Really? Again?”

I nodded. “All my Oreos.”

“Of course you’d focus on the Oreos and not the mess.”

“Actually, focusing on my Oreos is the only thing making me not freak the fuck out about the mess.” I paused, reaching for my cocktail. “I don’t know if I can do it anymore, Brie. I don’t want to kick him out, but I want my space back. I think he forgets who the apartment technically belongs to.”

She dipped the fry into ketchup and shoved it into her mouth. “It’s like having an overgrown child living with you, right?”

I nodded again, sucking on my straw.

“When Sean moved in, I wanted to claw out my eyeballs with a fork. He’d lived alone for so long that he had zero semblance of anyone else’s space,” she said, referring to her long-term boyfriend who’d moved into her apartment. “It’s been six months, and honestly, he’s only just getting it. I spent far too long hoping he’d just realize it before I broke down and set rules. I don’t think he pays attention half the time.”