Roommate's Virgin

The apartment was teeming with people. Everyone was drinking, and a few people were even dancing. The coffee table had been set aside to create a small dance space. I walked in, and someone tried to offer me a beer. I politely declined and tried to find Devlin. Then I heard someone call my name and I turned to find Devlin walking up to me.

“Hey,” he said. “Surprise.”

I frowned. “What?”

“I thought it would be nice to give you a proper welcome,” he said.

I looked around in disbelief. “This party is for me?”

“Yup,” Devlin nodded. “Surprised?”

I gaped at him, wondering how I was even supposed to react. He thought it would be a good idea to throw me a raucous party with a bunch of people I’d never met before? He knew nothing about me; what made him think I would like this kind of thing? Still, I was willing to acknowledge that however misguided it was a nice gesture. And I really didn’t want to start this relationship off with an argument, so I just smiled and nodded.

“Very surprised,” I said.

“Come on,” Devlin said. “Let me introduce you to some people.”

I spent the next hour following Devlin around as he introduced me to his friends. Most of them were in the art community like Devlin was, and I might have had a few nice conversations with some of them if it weren’t for the fact that everyone seemed more interested in getting drunk and dancing. The moment Devlin disappeared for a second, I raced into my room and locked the door.

I was desperate for some peace and quiet, but I knew that that wasn’t happening tonight. I would just have to try and shut out the sound and try and get some rest. As I lay on my mattress, I tried to keep my attitude positive, but I felt the strain of disappointment weighing me down.

I had thought that Devlin and I were more alike than different. I had assumed I wouldn’t have to deal with parties and alcohol and pot and all the other shit that came with it. But apparently, I had been wrong. What had seemed perfect from the outside had turned out to be anything but and I wondered if my attraction to Devlin had blinded me from that truth.

I sighed in frustration, realizing that my roommate curse was still in full effect. Maybe it was a bad idea to have made a decision so soon. I was forced to face the fact that maybe moving in here with Devlin had been the wrong decision.

13

Devlin

I stared at the big bag of pot I had kept sitting in my cupboard for almost three days now. I was torn. I needed to make money fast, but I also wanted to try and tread the straight and narrow. It had been two weeks since Zoe had moved in and things had been going great. We got along amazing, and we had great conversations.

We had even gotten into the habit of having breakfast together and sometime we had dinner together too. Usually, it was in front of the television, and it was some lackluster meal that the two of us had prepared together because we were both on a budget, but it was still great. I realized that I was actually having fun. Despite my community service, my life was taking a turn for the better.

The one thing that wasn’t really going according to plan was the money situation. I still hadn’t been able to find a proper job, and without one, my savings were dwindling fast. I still needed to meet my side of the rent, and if I wanted to focus on my art, I needed steady money coming in. I had been unceremoniously rejected by the jobs I’d applied for, mostly because with a little bit of digging they could find out that I was currently doing community service for dealing pot.

I knew it was a stupid idea to go back to dealing… especially so soon after being dragged into court, but I was on a high. Life was good now that Zoey had moved in and I wanted to be able to show her that I wasn’t just some loser struggling to make ends meet. I wanted to show her that I was going to make something of myself. That she could rely on me for anything… including financial stability.

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nbsp; I knew I was probably thinking too far ahead, but there was something about this girl that made me feel… like I needed to do better. I justified my decision to sell pot again by telling myself that it was only temporary. If I actually managed to get my work displayed in a few galleries and I started selling my paintings, then I could put the pot dealing behind me for good.

I had a meeting with a gallery owner in a short while. If he liked my stuff, then it was possible he would showcase my work in the exhibition he was putting on a few weeks from now. I wanted to make a good impression, and I had been working on my portfolio for over a week now. Zoey had even helped me put it together, and that experience had convinced me that she was perfect for me.

I had decided that if I managed to get my work exhibited and I earned some money off my paintings, then I would not only quit selling pot but I would also come clean with Zoey at last and tell her the truth about my beginnings. Surely, she would understand why I needed to sell pot right? I was doing it to support my aspirations of becoming an artist. We were so similar; I couldn’t imagine her not seeing things my way.

I hid the pot at the back of my closet in an old shoebox, and then I made a call to Larry Kendrick. He had been one of my best customers, and I needed someone I trusted… more or less… to spread the word. I needed to make some money fast. Between my time at the station and with all the time I’d spent on my portfolio in anticipation of this meeting with the gallery owner, I hadn’t had time to keep the job search going.

I’d been forced to dip into my savings, and now my bank balance had dropped so significantly that it was making me nervous. I had decided that pot was my only option… it was a déjà vu moment, but I refused to change the narrative and go to my parents for help. They wouldn’t actually help me in any case. They would just laugh at my face and then tell me I had dug my own grave. I didn’t need the aggravation, and I refused to give them the satisfaction of feeling as though they were right.

“Hello, Larry?”

“Who’s this?”

“It’s me… Devlin.”

“Devlin?” Larry asked, in surprise. “Last I heard, you’d been busted.”

“Well, that’s sort of true.”