Roomie Wars Box Set

Things have been hazy since the night I left Slater’s place. I was hoping to have a clearer head when the alcohol wore off, but sadly, I didn’t even after I projectile-vomited into the gutter when Mia dropped me off at my apartment.

Drew never came home last night or this morning. Troy sent me a quick text to say he crashed at Isaac’s due to a massive hangover. I’m kind of relieved needing some time alone to process my thoughts.

I don’t allow my hangover to deter me, going for a morning jog and hitting the gym for an hour. By the time I get home, I’m feeling energized and decide to head out and finish up some last-minute wedding plans. There’s a place not too far away which specializes in wedding cars, and with lots of back-and-forth emails, I’ve managed to secure some customized VW wedding Beetles—Drew’s favorite car. Since his car, Betty, is extremely unreliable, I decide it’s best to leave her alone resting in his dad’s garage.

As the day progresses, I squeeze in another meeting with the venue to finalize the menu. I could have easily ordered something ordinary for our reception but decide to go for the fancier menu which consists of healthier options that I know Drew will approve. It ends up costing more, but I sign on the dotted line anyway. Then the event planner shows me the different china they use. My eyes immediately fell in love with the white and gold plates. Elegant and classy. And what does she tell me? They’re in the ‘A’ group which means the most expensive choice. After seeing those plates, the rest look like plastic from Costco.

I don’t know what comes over me, but I agree to use them on the day, ignoring the huge bill.

I’ve ticked everything off my list by late afternoon with still no text or call from Drew. I decide to bite the bullet and call him, but it goes straight to voicemail. Letting out a disappointed sigh, an early dinner by myself at a local diner seems fitting. Luckily, I’ve brought my laptop and work on the final sketches for Drew’s dad’s place. Even though he’s resisted the move countless times, I feel confident when he sees the final plans, he will fall in love with the house.

I haven’t touched his dad’s place keeping it simple and still in its original condition. I’ve simply extended the barn out back and designed it into a fully functional home. Given that Drew owns the land, we can easily build a beautiful home and still have plenty of space as the property sits on acres. I incorporate everything Drew loves—big windows and lots of light-filled rooms, a massive kitchen with a large island, and an eight-burner stove with a butler’s kitchen to the side. Outside, the landscaping is simple with a huge veggie patch where we can grow Drew’s favorite vegetables.

And to ease my worries, I cross-checked that the address is pizza-delivery friendly.

I’m hoping to show him the plans this week once we get our schedules back in sync.

The countdown has begun, and to shake the nagging feeling that something’s brewing on the horizon. I head back to the apartment, tired, and to find it empty with no Drew. He hasn’t left a note or sent a text, unusual that he hasn’t checked in at all.

I lay in bed that night trying to unwind by reading a book from my ever-growing list when I hear my work email ping. The last thing I want to do on a Sunday night is answer work emails, but the insomnia’s getting to me. I tap through my mailbox and see the email sent from Slater. There’s nothing in the subject line—unusual for him—so to feed my curiosity, I read the email he’s sent.

Did you think about what I said?

It’s one line. One that has so much impact. Of course, I have been thinking about it, it is the sole reason for my insomnia. My relationship with Drew is falling apart. I hate to admit that, but it is true. We just have to get through this, through the wedding. I know Drew complains about how crazy it all is, yet I know that once it’s over, he will look back and appreciate the day.

It’s just trying to get us both to the altar.

And I can no longer deny that Slater’s presence is impacting that goal. He said the words that have buried themselves in the back of my brain with the non-important stuff like algebra and politics. I read the email again knowing I can’t respond to him without a guilty conscience, so I keep my response precise and to the point.

About how the Thompson Twins aren’t actually twins?

I don’t know how Slater will react and would hate to think how Drew will if he knows that Slater’s emailing me late at night asking me if I’m still going to marry Drew because it seems like I’m settling rather than head-over-heels in love.

My email pings again and quickly with a nervous beat in my heart, I open the email and read it carefully.

Don’t do that, Zoey. Don’t make me want you even more.

His words sting like venom seeping through every crevice until the beating in my heart remains incredibly still—shocked—and then without warning, beats so fucking loud causing my skin to burn. I’m not sure if it’s flattery, attraction, or guilt that another man—a very handsome man—is emailing me at ten o’clock on a Sunday night telling me he wants me while my fiancé is at work.

I don’t respond. I don’t know how to.

Instead, I kept re-reading the email with an awful feeling in my gut which ends in no sleep.

***

“What’s wrong? You look like you’ve been beaten through the wringer. Let me guess.” Mia doesn’t allow me to speak popping a cookie into her mouth while raising her finger to silence me. “You fucked Drew all day yesterday. He got all macho on you after finding out about our encounter with the male dancers.”

I wish.

I arrived early hoping to confess to Mia what happened with Slater, a way to ease my guilty conscience. But the longer we stand inside the kitchen surrounded by other employees walking in and out, the more I think it’s not such a good idea. It may come across like I am admitting that I’m confused when in reality, I am confused.

Nail on the fucking head.

“You know what? Never mind.”

I move toward the coffe

e machine careful not to spill anything on my new white blouse. It was an impromptu purchase last week when I decided to spruce up my work wardrobe. Subconsciously, maybe I was sending the wrong signals to Slater. I found myself paying more attention to my appearance at work. Even Drew had made a snide comment which I’d brushed off. This blouse was fancy, and according to the sales assistant at the boutique, ‘sexy’ too.