The Roommate Agreement

by Emma Hart

  “You eat my Oreos and you are the reason we have a roommate agreement!” I slapped his forearm. “You are a terrible roommate.”

  Jay looked at Sean with a flat expression. “You see the shit I put up with? Does your roommate hit you? Does she abuse you for accidentally eating her Oreos? Does she make you sign a contract to keep living there?”

  “That’s called a rental agreement,” I snapped.

  Sean looked between us. “Are you both sure you’re not married?”

  “Over my dead body,” I said right as Jay choked on his beer.

  “Whatever. What do I do to fix this with Brie?”

  “Well, to start,” I said. “I’d apologize for implying she’s either a stripper or that you can’t trust her. That’s the easiest way to find your ass sleeping in your car tonight. Then, I’d start with saying that you’ll leave as soon as you’re done eating. Tomorrow, I’d make her breakfast with her favorites then buy her flowers.”

  Jay leaned forward and looked at Sean. “That shit is why I’m single.”

  “Yeah, that’s the reason.” I rolled my eyes. “Seriously, Sean, whatever you did, just talk to her. Now, before her food comes out and she’s really hangry.”

  His lips twitched. “You’re right. I’ll go and apologize and promise to leave after we’ve eaten. Thanks, Shelbs.” He got up and walked to the door right as my dad came over.

  “What’s up, kids? Did girls’ night change?” He wiped the table and looked at us both with kind blue eyes.

  I shook my head. “Our security was breached. Who let them in?”

  Dad laughed when Jay scowled at me. “We’ll do better. What’s up with Tweedledum and Tweedledee out there?”

  “Living together issues,” Jay answered. “I can relate.”

  Once again, I rolled my eyes. “Did you replace my Oreos?”

  “I’ll do it tomorrow!”

  Dad’s chuckle was deep as he grabbed our two empty glasses. “Jay, son, all these years and you’re still eating her cookies? Didn’t you learn not to do that in fourth grade?”

  “You’d think,” I muttered.

  Jay knocked his elbow against me. “Shut up, you. This is why we have a rule that you have to label the packets.”

  “You’re still gonna eat them!”

  Dad looked between us with an expression of disbelief on his face. “I have no idea how you two have lasted this long as friends, much less live together.”

  I raised my glass. “I’ll drink to that, Dad.”

  “Same.” Jay clinked the neck of his bottle against my glass. “If anything is worth drinking to, it’s that.”

  Hear, hear.

  • • •

  I groaned as I stumbled into the kitchen, holding my head. “Drugs,” I muttered, gripping onto the island. “I need drugs.”

  I was speaking into an empty room because I knew for a fact Jay was still in bed. He hadn’t managed to shut his door before he’d passed out on his bed, fully-clothed, at one-thirty this morning.

  That, and I could hear him snoring from here.

  He was like a fucking horn bringing boats into a harbor.

  With my eyes half-closed, I felt my way through the room to the drawer with the drugs with my head pounding. If I felt this bad, I hated to think about how bad Brie felt. I’d been drinking water along with my mom’s lethal cocktails, but she hadn’t been.

  She and Sean had made up sometime during dinner, and since everyone apparently had a day off tomorrow, the drinks had flowed.

  I’d pretended not to notice when Sean and Jay had slipped some money into my mom’s back pocket. So had she, even though she’d giggled at their not-so-stealthy attempt.

  There was a chance Sean might have stumbled and grabbed her ass while he was slipping a couple of twenties in there…

  I found the ibuprofen and shook the bottle. Good. It wasn’t empty. The cap was tough to unscrew, but I managed to get it off and shake out two pills.

  Once I’d taken them, I left another two on the counter next to the cooker for Jay and got him a glass of water. There was no way in hell he’d have enough mental capacity this morning to get his own. Kind of like a baby bird.

  Opening the fridge door, I stared inside. I wasn’t sure what I was actually doing looking inside it, but I needed to eat before I headed to the library to do some research for the haunted hotel article. If I didn’t, I’d fall down the rabbit hole of research and never come back out.

  Well, I would. Just not in any decent amount of time.

  I hummed and pulled out some yogurt and berries. That would do for now. If I had anything heavier, I’d probably throw it back up.

  I stifled a yawn and tipped some of the yogurt and mixed berries into a bowl to eat. I was halfway through it when Jay wandered into the kitchen, looking a hell of a lot more awake than I thought he would be.

  Without speaking, I pointed behind me to where I’d left him a helpful little present.

  He walked past me without acknowledgment, and the next noise was the sound of the glass being put back down on the counter. “Thanks. I needed that.”

  His voice was raw and husky, full of sleep, and far sexier than it had any right to be.

  “You’re welcome,” I said around a mouthful of fruit. “How do you feel?”

  “Like I need some of your food.”

  I wrapped an arm around my bowl and pulled it into me, glaring up at him. Damn it, even with his hair sticking up in all directions and the imprint of his sheets on his cheek he was still hot.

  He was also shirtless, and while it was against the agreement, I just… didn’t have the heart to tell him to put a t-shirt on.

  What?

  I was only human.

  He had abs for days—the perfect, lean kind that screamed kale was one of your food groups but also said that you liked pizza and beer. His entire body was perfectly molded, from his strong shoulders to his tight chest and that tantalizing ‘v’ that curved over his hips and sent girls wild.

  “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.

  I zipped up my backpack and made my way out of the library, waving at the elderly librarian, Viola, who’d been here as long as I could remember.

  It was only a couple of blocks to my apartment, and the rain had stopped, so I set out into the dreary, dull Texas afternoon and turned the corner to step onto the road that would take me back to my apartment.

  I stopped at my favorite café on the way to get some pastries and ready-made sandwiches because there was no way Jay had cooked—he’d either gone back to bed or was playing video games and scratching his balls.

  Why did I have a crush on him again?

  It was a great mystery.

  After adding some pie to my order, I paid and took my bag full of goodies the two blocks to the apartment.

  As I’d suspected, Jay was sitting on the sofa, bent forward, jamming his thumbs onto the controller in front of him. He didn’t look at me as I came in, but he did jerk his head in my direction in acknowledgment.

  I set the bag on the island and unloaded it, waiting until he’d groaned in frustration to speak. “Did you eat? I got lunch.”

  The sound of buttons tapping filled the air, then he got up. “What did you get?”

  “I got you a tuna sandwich.” I handed him his and grabbed my BLT.

  “Yeah? What’s the rest of it?” His green eyes sparkled as he looked at the other boxes in the bag.

  I murmured something under my breath, but I wasn’t going to give him the satisfaction of knowing that my diet really was worse than my fitness.

  He laughed, pulling out the clear cartons and locating the apple pie. “If my sweet tooth wasn’t as bad as yours…”

  I jerked my leg out, going to kick him, but he’d already moved toward the cutlery drawer and grabbed himself a fork.

  “Day off. Hungover. I can do what I want.”

  I eyed the sofa as I opened my sandwich. “At least you’re wearing pants this time. The last time I came home to you on that stupid thing, you were scratching your balls like a two-year-old just discovering his penis.”

  “Discovering your penis is a highlight of a man’s life. Discovering how useful it is, is even better.”

  “That’s far more information than I ever needed to know.” I took my sandwich over to the sofa and sat next to him. “And I don’t want to know anymore.”

  Laughing, he saved his game and shut the PlayStation down, making it so the TV came back on. We scrolled until we found a show we both agreed on—in other words, a rerun of The Big Bang Theory that I wanted to watch—and set the remote back on the coffee table.

  “Are you telling me,” Jay said around a mouthful of food, “that little girls don’t discover their vaginas when they’re toddlers?”

  “Not really,” I said vaguely, picking a bit of tomato out of my sandwich. “The first time I really cared about it was… well, aside from puberty and the perils of becoming a woman, it was when I discovered my clit.”

  He choked on his sandwich. “Really?”

  “Yeah, and if the past is any indication, I’m still the only one who’s ever found it.”

  That didn’t help his choking. It made it worse, actually. He banged his fist against his chest until I leaned over and smacked his back a few times.

  “Too much information,” he croaked out, putting the sandwich down and reaching for some water. “Way too much, Shelby.”

  “Now you know how it feels,” I said smugly, settling into the corner of the sofa. “I don’t want to know about your penis any more than you want to know about my clitoris.”

  Except I kinda did, didn’t I?

  Ugh. This roommate thing was not working out. Why had I asked him to sign the tenancy agreement again? This was only making my crush worse, and that really was a problem since I’d seen him at his worst.

  Cheeto-dust on his chest, scratching his balls, needing a shower like yesterday kind of worst.

  Which meant that my crush was an even bigger problem.

  Nobody was attractive while covered in Cheeto-dust.

  Take it from me. I’d had enough late-night writing sessions to know that for a fact.

  Yet, here I was, still crushing on him.

  I needed to move out.

  “What are you muttering about?” Jay side-eyed me.

  “Nothing,” I said quickly. “There’s too much tomato in this sandwich, that’s all.”

  “You’re so picky. Make your own sandwich in the future.”

  “I buy you lunch on my meager artist wage, and this is how you repay me?” I sniffed. “That’s the last time I bring you pie when you still need to replace my Oreos.”

  “Oh, my God, I told you I forgot!” He turned his bright green eyes on me. “Fine. I’ll go to the store this afternoon and get your damn Oreos, okay?”

  “Roommate agreement says you owe interest.” I smirked.

  He clicked
his tongue and sighed. “I’m going to regret signing this, aren’t I?”

  “Hopefully.”

  • • •

  Brie: I think I’m dying.

  I raised my eyebrows at the text that popped up on my phone screen. Picking up the phone, I unlocked it and hit the bubble to reply.

  Me: Did you just wake up? It’s four in the afternoon!

  Brie: No. I woke up, threw up the contents of my stomach, went back to sleep, threw up again, and just woke up from a second nap.

  Me: You should have listened to me about drinking water.

  Brie: Sorry, Mom. Maybe you should take my drink from me next time.

  Me: I tried. You almost threw it over me, so I gave up.

  Brie: Ugh. I’m sorry. It was a rough night. Hell, it’s been a rough day.

  Me: What happened?

  Brie: We fought last night, and he left for the gym without talking to me.

  I frowned. They’d been okay all night at the bar after she’d stormed out—what the hell else happened?

  Me: I’d call you, but I don’t want to hear you throw up. What happened?

  Brie: I might throw up if I have to talk.

  Brie: It was stupid. They had this new girl start at the gym, and I knew they’d all exchanged numbers, but she kept texting him all night.

  Uh-oh.

  Brie: Every time you guys were talking or left us alone, he was on his phone, replying to her. Like he didn’t want to be alone with me or something.

  Me: Oh, Brie.

  Brie: We got home, and he was texting even when I was trying to unlock the door. Keyholes move when you’re drunk, btw. I confronted him, and we had a huge fight. He slept on the sofa, and that’s it right now. He hasn’t come home yet, he ignored my calls, and won’t answer my texts.

  I frowned. He wasn’t even supposed to be in the gym today. I knew that because there was no way either Sean or Jay would drink that late if they had to work the next day.

  You couldn’t give someone a personal training session if you were hungover, could you?

  Me: Let me ask Jay. He can probably get ahold of him.

  I slid my chair out from under my desk, took off my headphones, and pulled open my door. “Jay?”

  No answer.