Page 6 of The Barkeep and the Bro

“I’m actually masturbating,” I deadpanned. “Marking my territory.”

“Ew.”

“Get in here.” I waved my hand for him to enter.

Amos spun around the threshold into the room. He surveyed the surroundings, which weren’t much. He was one of those people who looked like the adult version of their kid self. Skinny, kind of awkward, curious green eyes, a mop of curly brown hair he kept neatly contained. Even at camp, I remembered him as one of the few kids with a comb.

“Do you have sheets?”

“Shit. I forgot about those.”

“We can do a Target run later.” Amos sat on the bed, and the springs squeaked for mercy. “They’re loud.”

“That’s probably why I got it for cheap.” Amos had insisted I buy a new mattress, not used.Don’t get secondhand furniture a person could’ve had sex on, he said. He obviously didn’t have that much of an imagination because humans could have sex on anything. “Let me know if the squeaking is too distracting tonight.”

“It’ll be fine.”

I exhaled a breath. I couldn’t believe I was here. “Thank you so much.”

He held up a hand for me to stop, but like hell was I going to stop.

“No, Amos. For real. Thank you for letting me move in here since I, y’know, don’t have a job and have diminishing savings.”

When Amos suggested I move in with him, I thought it would never clear with his landlord for the aforementioned reasons about my work situation. Thanks to credit card debt from keeping up with the finance bros, my credit wasn't the best either. But Amos was the landlord. This was his condo that he owned; he took on a roommate to help cover the mortgage. I was shocked when he said that, which was on me for thinking a twenty-six-year-old public school teacher couldn’t afford to own. He’d worked throughout college and took on a part-time job delivering pizzas to save up the down payment. He had his shit together more than people I knew making ten times his salary.

I offered to do the bulk of the chores and cleaning to help earn my keep. Amos’s place was pretty nice and recently remodeled. He said his decor was a mix of Craigslist and Facebook Marketplace finds mixed in with a few new things.

“I promise I’m a clean roommate. No parties, no loud music.”

“You sound boring,” he joked.

“Really, man. I know you probably think I’m this crazy partier from what you see on Instagram, but I’m not like that. I’m going to be the best roommate you’ve had.” I rubbed my hand on my thighs.

It kept hitting me how grateful I was to be here, how the forces of fate had brought us back together at just the right time. We hadn’t spoken since we were ten, but it was as if we’d been friends this whole time. We were on each other’s wavelengths.

More and more, breaking away from my old life seemed like the right call. Score one for good decisions.

“I’m hungry. Are you hungry?”

“Yeah. I’ve been unpacking all day.”

I sat on a stool in the kitchen’s breakfast nook while he heated up leftover chicken cacciatore. His kitchen had stainless steel appliances, and the fridge was covered with postcards from different places around the world.

“Where’s your favorite place you’ve been?” I asked.

Amos caught me looking at the postcards. “Those? This is like my vision board. The most exciting place I’ve been is Delaware. I’m planning a European vacation for my thirtieth birthday.”

“In four years?”

“I’m a planner.” He shrugged. Fair enough. Last year, a few buddies and I went to London on a last-minute long weekend trip. I didn’t remember much from that trip, but Amos most likely saw the pics online.

“So I have a question,” he said while watching the microwave tick down. “I’m pumped that you’re my new roommate, but Sourwood is kind of far from New York City, and I know that’s where a lot of your friends live.”

“This is a lot of preamble. What’s your question?”

He rested his elbows on the counter of the nook. “Why didn’t you move in with them?”

“That was my plan. I was going to couch surf until I found a new job and apartment, but things didn’t work out. One of my frat bros lives with his girlfriend in a one-bedroom, and she didn’t want people sleeping on her three-thousand dollar Crate & Barrel sofa.”

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