The Roommate Agreement

“There’s plenty more left,” I said, using my other hand to push the pot of yogurt and berries toward him. “You’re not eating mine.”

“Are the berries frozen?”

I shook my head. “I took them out of the freezer yesterday and forgot to put them back, but they’re super cold.”

He grunted, grabbed a bowl, and joined me at the small island. “How do you feel?”

“Better than I thought I would. I was drinking water, too, though. You?”

“Dehydrated,” he replied, shoveling a spoonful of food into his mouth. “Not as bad as I thought I would feel, either. I woke up and drank like three bottles of water after you went to bed.”

“See? I’m a good influence on you. Three months ago, you’d be the walking dead the morning after drinking.”

He pointed the spoon at me and nodded while he chewed.

I smirked and got up, grabbing two bottles out of the fridge. I slid one his way and uncapped mine.

Then watched as Jay drank the entire bottle in one go.

“Are you a walking desert or something?”

He laughed, choking on the final mouthful, and knocked his fist against his chest. “Told you—dehydrated. I might have to go for a run in a bit to sweat this hangover off. Wanna come with?”

“Run? With you? Are you trying to recreate The Hare and The Tortoise so that the tortoise loses dismally?”

He laughed again, knocking his elbow gently into mine. “No. I promise you—twenty minutes and you’ll sweat most of it out. Otherwise, you’re gonna feel dead by midday.”

“I don’t know. Running in this heat with a hangover sounds like the quickest way to kill me.”

“I’ll keep it in mind.”

Rolling my eyes, I scraped the last of the food from my bowl and put it in the sink. “Good to know.”

“Seriously, Shelbs, come running with me. We’ll go down to the front, run along the pier, then come back.”

I side-eyed him. “You promise?”

He mimed crossing his heart. “I swear on your Oreos.”

“Don’t swear on my Oreos. They’re not yours to swear on.” I paused. “If it’s longer than twenty minutes, you owe me two packets.”

Jay finished his breakfast, even going so far as to lick the spoon clean. “You know that’s counter-productive to a run, right?”

I shrugged, grabbing my water. “I’m not running to lose weight. I’m running to sweat out a hangover. Oreos are a perfectly good post-run snack.”

“Yeah, well, don’t complain at me when you can’t fit into your pants!” he called after me.

“I won’t have to! My pants have a stretchy waist!”

“Leggings aren’t pants!”

“Wash your filthy mouth out with soap!” I shouted back, slamming my door for effect.

Still, I heard his laugh.

His stupid belly laugh that rumbled across my skin in goosebumps.

Ugh.

Crushes were for schoolgirls and movie stars.

Not your best friend.

CHAPTER SEVEN – SHELBY

Always Apologize With Pizza

Running while hungover was not for the faint-hearted.

I was safely ensconced in the library with a hundred years’ worth of papers and magazine articles, a packet of double-stubbed Oreos, and a bottle of water, and I was still hating myself for agreeing.

Jay could run. Fast.

Me?

Not so much.

I couldn’t have been much slower. Despite the constant side-eye he gave me for my fitness, which resulted in me thinking about which pair of shoes I should wear when I ram my foot up his ass, I just didn’t want to be there.

It was warm but raining. Not even real rain. That stupid light drizzle that feels foggy and not all that wet, but ultimately turns you into a drowned rat after five minutes.

It was horrible.

I wouldn’t admit that it’d gotten rid of my hangover, but it had. Mostly, anyway. The horrible tight feeling in my forehead had gone, and I did feel better for pushing my body a little. I was still dehydrated, but since it was past lunch and Brie still hadn’t replied to my texts, I was pretty sure I was in the better shape of the two of us.

The papers that were in front of me were all copies. There were several reports of what the media called genuine hauntings, but there were also several theories that it was all a marketing ploy.

I had the horrible feeling I’d have to spend a night there myself in their most “haunted” room to get any objective answers.

I didn’t have the money for this, and I doubted the paper would dig into their pockets for a hotel stay.

Maybe I could convince Brie to come with me. Hmm.

Then again, she was a big baby who’d once been spooked by her own shadow, so that probably wasn’t going to happen anytime soon.

I’d have to think about it. Maybe calling the hotel themselves would get me some results.

For now, I filed the copies into a clear file and tucked it into my backpack to take home. There were a ton of things to go through, and it’d take far more than one day.