The Roommate Agreement

“Not really. I work a lot, so I mostly spend my free time watching TV and telling my roommate to pick up his dirty socks and food wrappers.”

Great. That’s how this was going to go. Point: Shelby.

“You have a roommate?”

“Mm.” Her lips pulled into the tiniest smile. “We’ve been friends for years, but he’s a bit of a dork. Only just figured out how to use a washing machine. The dishwasher is still a little foreign to him, but he remembered to clean the sink out after he shaved today, so I figure I’m making progress in training him to be the perfect roommate.”

It was so fucking hard not to laugh. Training me my ass.

The worst part? It was all true, and that’s why it was so damn funny. She’d gone into the bathroom after I’d shaved, and two minutes later, she’d found me in the living room with a bright yellow Post-It note.

She’d drawn a smiley face on it and wrote, “I cleaned up after myself!”

Then she’d stuck it onto my t-shirt before running away.

I sincerely hoped that wasn’t going to be a new tradition.

“Nobody’s perfect,” I replied. “In fact, I have a roommate, too.”

“Oh?” She raised one eyebrow, sipping her wine.

“Yeah. Like your roommate, we’ve been friends for years. She’s a little bit neurotic at times, especially if you eat her Oreos, but she makes some mean pancakes. I don’t even care that she yells at me about all my shortcomings, because yesterday I found a Kit-Kat wrapper stashed in the bathroom drawer and I know it isn’t mine.”

Shelby pursed her lips and looked away for a second. “Maybe she likes to snack in the bath.”

“She also likes to sing while she mops and uses the mop as a microphone. She’s a little bit crazy.”

“Sometimes a little bit of crazy is a good thing.”

Slowly, I curved my lips into a smile. “A little bit of crazy is definitely a good thing.”

CHAPTER TWENTY – SHELBY

No Judging On Snacking Habits

A little bit of crazy was a good thing, but this date was a lot of crazy.

Yet, at the same time, it was kinda cute. It was fun to talk to each other and tease him the way I just had, and I wasn’t going to lie and say my stomach wasn’t fluttering like hell.

It was.

I was nervous.

I hadn’t expected to be. After all, I knew Jay. But this set-up, pretending like we were strangers, was weird. It actually felt like a real first date, no matter how stupid it was and how ridiculous I felt.

Mostly, I was nervous because I didn’t go home with someone after a first date.

Tonight, I didn’t have a choice. What would happen when we got there? Would we just disappear into our own rooms? Would there be another sexually frustrating make-out session on the couch?

Would there be a make-out session that led to more?

I didn’t usually sleep with someone on the first date, but as I said: I didn’t have to go home with them after.

For now, though, I wanted to carry on pretending we didn’t know each other. I’d never wanted to laugh as much as I had in the last fifteen minutes, and since laughter was a measuring stick of mine for dating anyway, he was doing pretty good.

Even if he was a dork for this idea.

“Tell me about your family,” Jay said, leaning forward a little more. His eyes flashed with laughter, like he knew just how stupid it was.

“Well, my parents own this bar.”

“Shit. This is awkward, isn’t it?”

Oh, my God. Stop it.

“Just a little bit.”

“Who are your parents?”

This is so ridiculous.

“My dad is the tall guy with not a lot of hair, and my mom is the one with dark, curly hair.”

“Ah. I see where you get your good looks from.”

I bit my lip to stop myself laughing. “Don’t say that to her. She might start planning our wedding.”

Jay gave me an over-exaggerated wink. It was something he’d said to her every single time he wanted something, and it always ended up with Mom whipping him with whichever cloth she had in her hand at the time.

“What about your family?” I asked, hiding my grin by drinking from my wine.

“My dad owns a small chain of gyms as I said, and my mom mostly does the books for them. She’s an accountant by trade.”

“So it’s a family thing.”

“Pretty much.” He smiled. “Then there’s my grandmother. She’s terrified of snakes but has a tiny dog who likes to bring them to her as presents, and she’s developed a habit of guilting me into going to see her and doing things for her.”

“I’m not a fan of snakes, either, to be honest. Spiders I can do, but not snakes.”

“Really? Even the big spiders?” His eyebrows shot up, even though his eyes were shining with mirth.