The Roommate Equation
And now, I have to call my brother.
Sloan will give me a place to stay without a second thought. Even if he brings women home, the house is large enough that I would never see them.
But there’s one problem.
A massive issue I can’t escape.
I will have to live under the same roof as Dylan Banks. After what he did five years ago, I can’t stand to be in the same room as him, let alone share a house, sit in the same kitchen, and eat the same food.
No, I can’t deal with him.
And they live in Malibu.
That would mean sitting in a shit ton of traffic to get to work every day, which would also mean more money for gas. But I guess there’s an upside. They live on the beach, so at least I would have a nice view after a hard day at work. I could soak up the salty sea air and sit in a hammock by the pool.
I remove my cell phone from my pocket and call my brother.
Sloan has no clue about Dylan and me.
And now, everything is different.
We can’t even look at each other.
We barely even speak to each other.
Because a lot more than a kiss occurred that night, and what happened afterward changed everything.
Chapter Three
Dylan
I nudge Sloan in the side with my elbow and laugh at the idiot on the opposite side of the bar. The stuck-up suit is trying to pick up a woman who has been ignoring him since he walked into the bar. By the looks of it, she could use our help.
I point a finger at the woman. “Think we should save her from him? She looks like she could Date Crashers right about now.”
A man dressed in a sleek, tailored suit leans over a beautiful blonde, unaware of the signals she’s giving him. She shifts her weight on the stool and scans the crowded bar. Her eyes dart toward the front door and then to the bartender.
Sloan glances in their direction and rolls his shoulders. “I’d hate to break my own rules. If she wants to get rid of him, she can use our app.”
Sloan Riley has been my best friend since we were eight years old, and we have been an inseparable duo ever since. I’m the tech mastermind behind the app Date Crashers. Sloan came up with the idea after saving our friends from one too many bad dates in college.
One of our fraternity brothers said, “Dude, we need an anti-dating app to get rid of clingers,” and from there, the idea was born. We launched the app five years ago, and since then, our brand has only grown stronger.
Most people turn to online dating now, which also increases the risk of sitting through awful dates. When our customers open our app and hit the Crash My Date icon, a Crasher receives an alert with the GPS location from the Ditcher’s cell phone and comes to their aid. It’s that simple. I thought it was a ridiculous idea when Sloan first mentioned it to me. But his idea turned out to not be so silly after all.
“Isn’t this why we started Date Crashers?” I ask Sloan. “To help people get out of bad dates.”
The blonde woman entered The Pit Stop about fifteen minutes ago, alone and here to drown her sorrows in a glass of red wine. Until the suit approached her, wearing a shit-eating grin, the blonde hadn’t looked at a single person in the crowded bar. She kept her head down, staring into her wine glass as if it could communicate.
Sloan looks at the couple across the bar. “How hasn’t he noticed that she’s not interested? It’s so fucking obvious.”
Sloan is responsible for teaching our Crashers, the people who break up bad dates, how to spot the signs, and know when to intervene.
Leaning against the brick wall, Sloan laughs and then takes another sip from his beer. “This guy has it all wrong. He thinks he can flash his Rolex and get the girl, but he has no clue what he’s doing.”
“But you do,” I say with a sly grin. “Why don’t you go over there and show him how it’s done?”
“Nah, I’m good right here.”
I chug the rest of my beer and then slide the bottle along the bar. The bartender tips her head in acknowledgment. She knows us well. Every Thursday after work, I come to The Pit Stop with Sloan. It’s the only day of the week we get the chance to catch up and shoot the shit. Since we moved our company from San Francisco to Los Angeles, we’ve been so damn busy that we barely have time to breathe.
The Pit Stop has a rustic vibe, with the original brick walls covered in car posters and an open ceiling that shows the exposed beams, reminding me of an old car garage.