Roomie Wars Box Set

“So, what are you doing this weekend?” I ask, swiftly changing the subject before my head explodes.

“I’m going to the beach down the coast with a couple of guys. I think it would be good for you to join us.”

“Why? You know I hate the sun. It’s a freckle funeral in this heat.”

“Because you need to get out. Ever since you broke up with what’s-his-face, you’ve been down in the dumps, eating rubbish, and watching reruns. You’re young, Zo. How many other single girls at twenty-nine do you see doing the same thing?”

“They don’t because they’re all engaged or married.”

“Exactly.”

“I don’t need a man. I’m fine.”

“When you can say that to me without pulling that ridiculous face, I’ll believe you. And as for tomorrow, go find your bikini because I’ll be dragging you out of bed at six.”

“Six!” I cry out.

Fuck. My bikini will cover only one boob. I haven’t worn it since my ill-fated trip to Fiji with Jess. Back then I was a B-cup. These Ds have no chance of staying put.

“I’m not going,” I say firmly.

Turning to face me, he extends his hand. “Rock, paper, scissors?”

“Argh, you’re so annoying,” I moan, following his move.

We both clench our fists and shake three times. At the same time, we release our hands, both pulling out rock. We repeat the game, and when Drew pulls out rock again, I throw my scissors hand into the air in frustration.

“Okay. You win,” I complain, sinking deeper into the couch with my arms folded.

Drew pulls my wrist toward him reading the time on my watch. “Shit. I’ve got to start getting ready.”

“Hot date?”

He winks. Manwhore.

Since Drew is so anal about cleaning, he couldn’t leave without washing the dishes and tidying the kitchen. The dishwasher starts to run, and he heads to the bathroom to take a shower but not before accusing me of leaving corn chips all over the floor and ordering me to vacuum them up.

Housework is so mundane, so I do just a quick vacuum before shoving it back into the small storage cupboard without wrapping the cord around it properly. I’ll pay the price for that later when Drew finds it.

Feeling lonely and bored, I walk to his room to find him out of the shower and changing into his clothes. Already wearing his skinny black jeans, he pulls a white tank over his head before grabbing his ironed shirt off the hanger.

“Ooh, that’s your I’ll-definitely-get-laid shirt,” I tease, throwing myself on his bed while I fiddle with his iPod.

“I like to think every shirt is my definitely-get-laid shirt.”

“Bet you’re bringing home a blonde,” I tell him.

“Nah,” he says casually. “How about two brunettes?”

I look up at him in shock. “A threesome?”

“Relax.” He smiles. “I save those nights for when you’re on work trips.”

Without even thinking, I throw his pillow at him.

“What’s that for?!” he yells, annoyed that the pillow touched his perfectly styled hair.

“For being a manwhore. I liked it better when you were a geek who couldn’t get laid and probably jerked off watching Princess Leia in Star Wars.”