Page 33 of How to Win the Girl

When Dallas was still living here, and Ryann would visit, things weren’t as…tense. Not sure if that’s the word or what, but dude, I’ve never lived with a girl, and suddenly, one’s hogging the bathroom every time I have to take a piss. Though I will admit she isn’t as high-maintenance as I was expecting her to be.

Not only that, she grocery shops a lot so there’s always good food in the fridge and these leftovers in my hand? Still warm.

So despite the fact I live in constant fear that I’m going to accidentally walk into a room with her half undressed—or worse, naked—and get my ass kicked by my older brother for seeing his girlfriend’s tits, everything seems to be smooth sailing.

So far, so good.

I don’t linger, returning to my room across the hall after a few more random comments that have Ryann rolling her eyes and telling me to “shut the door behind you when you go.”

Okay then.

Fine.

I will.

I’m not bored—youare.

Pouting, I flop on my bed, get comfortable, and pull the container top off the leftovers. Steam rises from the rice pilaf and chicken, literally the same shit I eat three out of seven days a week, but I didn’t have to make it myself this time, so I’m not about to complain.

As I said, it’s still warm.

My phone lays limply beside me, sort of like the limp dick in my pants. Since Ryann is home, I can’t invite one of the neighbor girls over to fuck without risking her ire—or my brother’s.

No hookups at the house with cleat chasers while my girlfriend is living there…

I stab at the chicken, stuffing my face until most of it’s gone. Hit the remote for the TV and find a reality competition show to watch. But honestly, nothing beats flirting on a dating app while I pretend to be someone else to pass the time.

ten

daisy

I’d temporarily deactivate my dating profile for you…

“Haveyou met this guy in person yet?” Gabby looks over my shoulder at the app while I poke at Drew’s profile, his smiling, friendly face a contrast to the guy I see in class once a week.

How had I never noticed him in class before?

“Yes, he’s in my Mass Comm class.”

Gabby raises her brows. “Wait. You’re talking to him in the app and seeing him in class, but he hasn’t asked you out yet?”

As a theater nerd, one majoring in dance, it’s clear my roommate has no idea who Drew Colter is—the same way I hadn’t known who he was.

“Um. No.” I set my phone down to slide a pizza into the oven. And so I can ignore her judgmental look. “We have no interest in dating. I’m not actually sure I can stand him in person. The jury is still out.”

“What do you mean?”

“I mean—he’s so nice in the app and really fun to talk to but in person we got off on the wrong foot and haven’t…” I search for the words. “Found our footing.”

“Why do you talk like you’re forty years old?” Gabby has her nose wrinkled up.

I stare at her for a few seconds, wondering how on earth we function as roommates and how we don’t get into arguments more often, considering how serious and blunt she is. I’m pretty sure when they were handing out filters, they skipped Gabby.

Stella is my jam.

Gabby…not so much.

I sort of inherited her through Stella, who went to high school with Gabs. Their moms are friends, and here we all are.

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