Page 13 of The Roommate Lie

“I told you to keep this professional.”

Those are the first words out of Carl’s mouth when we reach the staff break room, and I hold up both hands like the cops showed up. “I didn’t make a single move. That girl isn’t crying because of me.”

My brother doesn’t say anything, and I keep going.

“I didn’t kiss her once—I didn’t even flirt. I barely smiled.”

Carl still doesn’t respond. He just stares at me, unblinking. I think he might be dead.

“We took one road-trip selfie in the car. That’s it. Everything else was completely boring and by the book.”

“Charlie—” My brother hesitates, kneading his temples. “That’s not what I meant when I said to keep things professional.”

Of course that’s what he meant. There are no other definitions for that phrase. None. And he had a good reason for saying it too. Does my brother have amnesia?

“I screwed up, remember? I was being too flirty at the ticket counter, and it made her uncomfortable. That’s why you told me to keep things professional.”

Carl sighs. “You weren’t being too flirty—you panicked. A stranger was being nice to you, so you shut it down by acting weird. That’s the opposite of flirting. You’re not a bad guy, Charlie. Compliments just make you uncomfortable.”

I’m not a bad guy?Now I’m the one who isn’t blinking.

“Compliments don’t make me uncomfortable,” I protest. Yet even as I say that, a sensation itches under my skin. One that can only be described asdiscomfort.

Carl ignores me. “When I told you to keep it professional, I meant don’t adopt her. Drive her to the resort, find her boyfriend, and leave. The last thing you need is another stray.”

Another stray?

I have no idea what he’s talking about, and my brother sighs again. “You collect sad tourists. It’s your new favorite hobby. You bring home strays, and you keep them forever.”

“No I don’t.”

“Two other people live at your house. And you barely know them.”

Tyler and Lydia? Is that what this is about? “The Sharp twins are my roommates. We’re friends.”

“They don’t pay rent. That’s not a roommate—or a friend.”

Things with Tyler and his sister are more complicated than that. He and I actually go way back, even if I’ve been sworn to secrecy about how we met. But I’m still not sure what brought this on, why Carl is going all parental on me right now about my roommates. Tyler and Lydia have been living with me for months, and Carl hasn’t had a single problem with them until today. What changed?

“I like them fine,” Carl reassures me. “Tyler and Lydia are great—unless you collect more of them. You don’t need another wayward stranger in your life. You’ve got your own problems. You can’t solve everyone else’s.”

That’s actually pretty sweet and protective of him to say. But also infuriating. I get ready to dig in and stick up for myself (and the Sharp twins), but a slew of familiar noises echo through the bus station. The squeal of the heavy side door, the rattle of keys, and the thump of footsteps.

Our boss.

Two Roscoes have never panicked so fast. I lunge for the break room door, but Carl grabs the back of my shirt and yanks me behind him. He leads the way all slow and calm like everything’s under control. Which is probably better than the running and flailing I was going to do.

When we make it out front, Alice is drying her eyes with a tissue while our boss, Mr. Walters, studies her warily. “I don’t understand,” he says. “We’re closed—the doors are locked. How did you get in here, and why are you in here alone?”

Busted.

Leave it to Mr. Walters to identify a punishable offense within ten seconds of entering the building. That man can smell an infraction a mile away. Carl and I are officially in trouble, and Alice can tell.

“I’m so sorry,” she sniffles. “It’s my fault. I was in the bathroom…and I fell asleep.”

I have to work really hard to hide my smile. That’s one of the worst lies I’ve ever heard, and it was delivered in the worst possible way. Her voice lifted at the end and everything, like it was a question. As if Alice herself wasn’t sure if those words were true.

What would that even look like, someone falling asleep in a public bathroom? I can’t picture it, and our boss is having a pretty hard time with that too. “You fell asleep sitting up? In one of the stalls?”

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