19
The Roomie Pact
Jude
My sex life is a whodunit, and I’ve added up the clues. A night of banging will solve the crime of too much horniness in 5E. Then we can focus on our careers and being the best roommates ever.
Now all I need is to find the right moment to present my solution to TJ.
My mission on Sunday afternoon, as we wander through Samuel Johnson’s home? Keep the mood light to prime for the pump.
“Perhaps your hero needs to rescue a damsel in distress from a book thief,” I suggest as we survey the research library.
TJ shoots me a side-eyed glance. “Is he nicking all her rare books?”
“Sure. Let’s go with that,” I offer playfully.
“Something to think about, that’s for sure. But why did you assume the romantic subplot involved a man and a woman?”
“Same reason my agent sends me out for auditions for straight and gay roles. I don’t want to be pigeonholed early in my career. I want to play any part. I figured you’ll want to make your mark writing both types of romance into your mysteries.” I take a beat. “How did I do?”
He gives a small smile that disappears in a second. “You’re right.”
As we turn down the hall, TJ doesn’t seem keen to continue this book talk. Weird, since he’s been chattier after he shared the details of his novel three nights ago. Today, though, he sounds like he’s elsewhere. I might have to table my proposition.
But as we head toward the door, TJ clears his throat. “So, when I went for a run this morning, I had an idea for you and me.”
And we’re back in business!
This could indeed be a perfect lube for my brilliant proposal. “I had an idea too. Something that might help our situation,” I say, eager to make my pitch.
“Cool,” TJ says, a smile on his face as we exit the house.
“I bet we’re thinking the same thing,” I say.
“I bet we are too,” he says.
“So, tell me your plan.” I’m dying to hear how deliciously it’ll match mine.
TJ stops, straightens his shoulders like he’s girding himself to say something hard.
But I’ll help him along. “Why don’t we—” I begin, right as he says, “We need to meet other men.”
My head pops.
Wait.
What?
Did he just say that?
That terrible thing?
“I didn’t mean to interrupt,” he says, apologizing.
But thank God he did, or I’d have made a fool of myself. “No worries, mate,” I say, then invite him to talk more. “So, you’re thinking . . .?”
“I’m thinking. Clearly, we both need to get laid, right? It’s not getting easier in our place. I mean, you avoid the flat even more now than you did when you first moved in.”
Right, and my solution was to have you fuck me into the headboard. Yours is to fuck someone else.
“Sure,” I say, so damn laid back that I’m nominating myself for an Academy Award.
“Let’s wingman each other tonight. When we go to the club with our friends, we can help each other meet other dudes.”
“It’s not a gay bar, though,” I point out.
“We could go to one after,” he offers.
Oh.
Right.
He’s thought this through, and I think I hate him now.
TJ stares at me, a little sheepish. “I mean, let’s be honest. It’s not really that easy to manage all this stuff,” he says, gesturing from him to me.
You’re right. It’s not. So, shall I just hang a sock on the door when I’m shagging some American traveler who’s not you tonight, you wanker?
But I’m an actor, so I throw on a winning smile. “That is brilliant. It’s what I was literally going to say too.”
TJ wipes a hand across his brow in mock exaggeration. “Whew. That’s awesome.”
“It’s going to be great,” I say, lying fantastically. “You should even wear that black shirt with the skulls.”
Might as well torture myself. Call it an actor challenge.
“Sure. And you can wear anything. Because you look good in everything,” he says, then offers a hand. “So, it’s a roomie pact.”
“It’s a brilliant roomie pact,” I say, shaking his hand as I wear a big, fat smile.
Olivia is in fine form tonight, entertaining the lot of us as we head toward The Cat’s Meow.
“So, then the director said, ‘Great, fabulous, but can you do that whole monologue again, but this time do it like you need to pee.’ Isn’t that mad?”
Alex raises a hand like he’s in class. “Question. How does one do a bit like you have to piss?”
“Ah, let me demonstrate,” Olivia says with a smile, then answers him with an encore of her audition.
TJ’s workmate is a cool guy and one of the best listeners I’ve encountered. Good thing since Olivia likes to talk, and now she’s telling him precisely how she redid the monologue as we weave through the thinning Sunday night crowds. “But I swear, shit is getting weirder in auditions. Like they’re trying to test us in new ways. Don’t you think, Jude?”
Ah, this is a perfect opportunity to stir the pot. If TJ wants us to wingman each other, he’ll bloody well get it. “Absolutely. I ran into Trevor the other day at an audition, and he was saying the same thing. He’s that gorgeous one I used to go out with—remember, Liv?”
TJ’s shoulders tense.
“Aren’t all your exes gorgeous?” she asks with a wink.
“You’re right. It’s hard to keep them separate when they’re all so lovely to look at. But this might help—he’s the one I said was the best kisser ever.”
Olivia rolls her eyes, then pats Alex’s arm. “Jude thinks a tiny bit highly of himself.”
Alex laughs. “Self-confidence isn’t a bad thing.”
“So, what happened with this Trevor fellow at the audition?” Olivia prompts.
Oh. Hmm. That’s a good question. I hadn’t cooked up a story yet. But I was always good at improv. As I reach the door to the club, I say offhand, “Oh, he was just asking if he could join us later tonight. So maybe I’ll text him.”
There. Picture that, roomie.
With his jaw ticking, TJ heads to the ticket window. Olivia grabs me, tugs me out of earshot.
“What is your deal?” she whispers.
“Just having fun.”
“You never talk about exes. They’re all twats. And I have no clue who Trevor is.”
“He’s fake,” I whisper.
She tilts her head, tutting me. “Be careful there. You’re playing with his heart.”
I scoff. “That would be impossible.”
She wags a finger at me. “Don’t be a twat.”
I’m simply giving TJ what he wants. Me with another man. “I’ve got this under control,” I tell Olivia.
We head inside, pouring into the crowded space, and soon the band begins. I’d like to say Lettuce Pray drowns out my thoughts. But it seems to stoke them. All these songs of longing have me imagining TJ kissing other men. Touching other men. Fucking other men.
Halfway through the set, TJ tells us he’s going to grab a drink. I don’t follow him. I dance with Olivia and Alex, and when Olivia spots her pretty blonde friend Polly, the four of us dance to the beat.
A few minutes later, TJ returns, but he doesn’t join in. He nurses his drink, stares at the stage, and says nothing.
With every move I make, I fume.
With every shake of my hips, I seethe.
When the music ends, Olivia says the three of them are going to get a nightcap. Translation: Olivia is going to pitch a threesome to Polly and Alex.
“Cool. TJ and I are going to Wiseman,” I tell her.
Out on the street, she pulls me aside once more. “What are you doing?”
I scoff, like none of this is a big deal. “I’m going to fuck someone else tonight.”
She shakes her head, her eyes hard. “He’s been staring at you all night with the most intense look in his eyes. He can’t stop looking at you.”
“I don’t care,” I spit out.
I don’t care so much that when the three of them head one way, and TJ and I go the other, I stride right up to the bar in Wiseman and order two beers.
The bartender serves me straight away. I hand one to TJ, then lift mine.
“Cheers. To Project Wingman,” I say, and yes, this is my best performance ever.
A resigned breath comes from him as he clicks his glass to mine. “Let’s find you a man,” he says, and when he sets down the beer, it is on.