Page 13 of Accidental Roommates

“What’s with all the protein? Is it because you’re an athlete?”

“It’s because I work out a lot. My athlete days are over now that I busted my shoulder.”

“Your shoulder! I totally forgot you said that earlier. I shouldn’t have let you help me move in.”

She sounds really worried about me, which is nice for a change. Nikki never cared about my shoulder. A week after my surgery she bought a new chair and wanted me to carry it up three flights of stairs to her apartment. When I told her I physically couldn’t do it, she got angry and said I was being a baby.

“Don’t worry about it,” I say to Kenzie. “My shoulder’s better now. Moving your stuff didn’t make it worse.”

“Are you doing physical therapy?”

“I did, but I’m done with it now. I just need to keep working on strengthening it.” I walk to the door. “I should leave you alone so you can unpack.”

“Actually, I kind of like having company.”

I like it too. Being alone makes my mind go back to Nikki and then I see images of her with Carter.

I go back in her room. “Need some help unpacking, or should I just—”

I’m interrupted by a knocking sound coming from the front door. Kenzie and I look at each other.

“It’s not Liam,” she says. “He doesn’t know I live here.”

“It can’t be Nikki. She’ll expect me to go to her, even though she’s the one who cheated.”

It’s funny how Kenzie and I both thought it was our exes at the door. Even though you know it’s not them, there’s a part of you that wishes they’d show up and beg for your forgiveness, telling you they were wrong and then apologizing over and over again and saying what a huge mistake they made.

Nikki would never do that, and yet as I walk to the door, part of me is hoping she’s the one knocking, here to beg me to come back to her. But as expected, it’s not her. It’s Dax.

“Hey, man,” he says, coming inside. “I heard what happened. Just wanted to see how you’re doing.”

“I’m okay.” I shut the door.

“We both know that’s a lie.” He pulls a bottle of whiskey from the paper sack he was holding. “But this should help.”

He hands it to me, then goes to the kitchen and starts searching the cupboards for glasses as I sit on the couch.

“I don’t want any right now,” I tell him, setting the whiskey down.

“Why? You already drank too much?”

“No. I just don’t feel like it. I haven’t eaten for hours and drinking without food will make me hurl.”

“So we’ll order a pizza.” He returns to the living room with two glasses and sits beside me on the couch. “You don’t look as bad as I thought you would.” He pours the whiskey into a glass and offers it to me.

“I really don’t want it right now.”

He eyes me. “What’s going on with you? You never turn down whiskey. I even splurged and got your favorite kind.”

“Thanks, man, but not now. Maybe later.”

“You care if I have some?”

“Go ahead.”

He takes a swig from the glass and leans back on the couch. “You gotta work tonight?”

I stop to think. “Shit, you’re right. I do have to work tonight.”

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