Roomie Wars Box Set

I accepted the second shift to get my mind off it, but only an hour into the shift, my thoughts won’t settle, and I find it impossible to focus. Why would she do this? It’s unlike her to bring someone home—a stranger. She hasn’t mentioned she’s seeing anyone, so I can only assume it’s some guy she’s picked up. It could be Rob. That’s even worse because the guy’s a fucking dick. Yet, you had no problem setting them up a week ago.

Luckily, it quietens down, and the hospital agrees to send me home.

Hopping onto the next bus, I ride until it approaches my stop. It’s still two blocks until our apartment, and with very little energy left in me, I run all the way home, only to be greeted by an empty apartment. What the fuck did I expect to do if they were here, anyway? I throw my keys onto the table, walk through the small hall flicking all the light switches on.

My immediate plan is to race to the bathroom and remove all the condoms, just in case they do turn up. No glove, no love. Brilliant!

Inside the bathroom, I open the bottom drawer to find an almost empty packet. Oh yeah. I forgot about how I’ve used them up. After dumping what’s left into the trash and covering it with an empty bottle of shampoo, I lie on the couch, drifting away into a restless sleep when the sound of keys tapping against the lock wake me.

Behind the door, Zoey’s giggles echo through the common hall. The door opens wide forcing me to sit up, and all I see is a pair of hands all over Zoey’s ass.

And her lips are glued to some jerk’s face.

I clear my throat, mostly to release the grunt that wants to escape.

“Drew?” She acts surprised to see me, letting him go while she adjusts her dress.

Crossing my arms, I sit up on the couch, not budging. I’m not going to fucking leave now, but I also don’t want to sit here while she takes him back to her room and fucking screws him. I need a plan. Think fast.

“Yeah, I wasn’t feeling well so I was hoping we could stay in,” I mumble, coughing slightly.

Her face immediately drops. “Did you get my text?”

“Text? Sorry, I must have fallen asleep. What did it say?”

“Never mind,” she responds, disappointed.

With her hands pressed against his chest, she pushes the guy out the door. In the hall, I hear mumbling followed by more laughter. When the door opens minutes later, Zoey walks back into the apartment alone, locking the door behind her. She throws her purse on the hall table and sits on the couch beside me letting out an annoyed huff. Kicking her heels off, she places her feet on the couch and begins to rub them.

Her constant exhales, her disappointed face, and the way her body slumps to the cushions tell me one thing—she’s annoyed I stopped anything happening between her and the jerk. Well, high-five to me! It still doesn’t erase the fact that she’s disappointed she didn’t fuck that loser. Something I have no control over.

The thought, morbid and twisted in my overtired mind, only enhances the jealousy.

“You need anything?” she asks quietly as if she knows my body will explode at any moment due to my erratic heart rate.

Blunt and without any consideration, I fire back, “Who was that guy?”

“That guy? Don’t you remember Noah? My rebound after Jess.” She chuckles innocently as if this is some big fucking joke. “Remember how my friend, Audrey, knew him through a friend? Apparently, he’s dubbed ‘Mr. Rebound.’

“That was Noah?”

Of course, I remember the guy. He’s some loser she met after she broke up with Jess. A rebound. She fooled around with him a couple of times, but then admitted she still loved Jess, so there was no chance for Noah.

That, and apparently Noah Mason had a reputation for finding vulnerable women.

“Weirdest thing ever. I ran into him today at a bar while having a few drinks with Mia. He looks good, doesn’t he?”

“Am I supposed to answer that?”

“I swear, for someone who works in a hospital, you’re such a grumpy bum when you’re sick.” She places her hand on my forehead, pretending to know what she’s checking. It’s comical, to say the least. And coming from someone with a medical background.

“I’m not sic—” Shit, I nearly blew my cover. I hide it with another cough. “So what did your text say?”

With a conceited grin, she divulges, “It was a Code Red. Yeah, I know. I haven’t done that in a while, but I really need to get back in the game. I’m this close to joining the nunnery.”

“You don’t need to do anything, Zo. What’s wrong with being single? Sex isn’t everything,” I play it off. “Besides, lots of people masturbate, and it’s perfectly healthy. In

fact, studies have shown that people who masturbate daily have longer and happier lifespans than those who don’t.”