Page 31 of The Roommate Experiment

“Hunter.” I give her a nod, then turn to her date. “Hey, man. We haven’t been introduced. Dylan.” I offer him my hand.

“Lucas.” He grins, flashing straight white teeth worthy of a QVC host ready to convince you to buy a Facial-Flex. “And how do you know Hunter?” He stands and extends a hand, which I take, squeezing a little harder than necessary.

“I’m her roommate.”

Olivia shifts on her feet, tucking a strand of hair behind her ear, her gaze bouncing between all of us. She forces a polite smile, but her lips are pressed a little too tight, her eyes lingering on me, waiting for an explanation as if this were my fault. “Olivia.” She offers her hand, forcing me to let go of Luc-ASS. “Nice to meet you.” Her voice sounds strained as she glances over at Hunter. “Hunter, nice to see you again.”

Hunter nods, but her smile doesn’t reach her eyes. “Yeah, so good to see you.”

The awkward silence stretches, thick and uncomfortable. Olivia’s not speaking, but I can still hear the question:Why didn’t you mention she’d be here?

I shrug, hoping Olivia will surmise this wasn’t planned. In fact, the impromptu run-in goes against the plan. Tonight was supposed to give me clarity on my feelings for Olivia, keeping my sexy roommate out of the picture. But here we are.

We sit down, Olivia still eyeing me expectantly—presumably waiting for an answer to the silent question she hasn’t asked, but that’s burning behind those slightly pissed amber eyes. Her smile has dimmed a touch, and the shift in energy as the hostess hands us menus is palpable.

I flip open the menu, and panic washes over me. It’s all in French. Not a single recognizable word leaps out at me. I only see a tangled mess of words that mock me from the page. English is hard enough most days, but French? Forget it. I try to read the first item, but my brain hits a wall. None of the letters string together into anything familiar. I’ve got no foothold, no starting point. Just a page full of alien characters designed to make me feel like an idiot.

But that’s the least of my problems right now.

As soon as the hostess is gone, Olivia leans in closer, whispering, “I didn’t realize this place was so popular.”

“And I didn’t know she was coming here.” I keep my voice low as I respond to her passive-aggressive insinuation. “It’s a coincidence.”

Olivia’s lips purse. “Right.”

I hold Olivia’s stare for a second before my gaze wanders back to Hunter’s table. She’s laughing at something Lucas said. But it’s not the usual throaty giggling I’ve come to recognize and be drawn to; it sounds more forced. Hunter is sitting with a stiff spine and her fingers toy with the edge of her napkin, twisting it in her lap.

Olivia clears her throat, demanding my attention. “Should we share an appetizer?” she asks, glancing at me over the edge of the menu.

Her tone has brightened as if she’s decided not to let the proximity with my roommate ruin her evening. But something flickers underneath. Doubt? Jealousy? I can’t blame her. If our places were reversed, and my girlfriend was living with some hot dude who I suddenly saw everywhere, I’d react the same way.

I hesitate, the squiggly French words swimming on the page. “Why don’t you choose? French isn’t exactly my forte. I don’t understand half the things on here.”

She raises an eyebrow, as if it’s a joke. “Just read the English translation underneath.”

“Yeah, sure.” I nod too quickly.

I glance down again, pretending to skim the page, but the translation is written so small it might as well not exist. I could tell Olivia the truth: that I have dyslexia, that reading anything this dense is near impossible for me. But I don’t. Protecting this part of myself has become second nature. A reflex I can’t unlearn.

“See anything you like?”

“It all looks great,” I deflect. “I’m okay with whatever you prefer.”

“Yeah, whatever.” Olivia’s nostrils flare, but she lets it drop, flipping through the menu. Meanwhile, my attention drifts inevitably back to our neighbors.

Hunter’s voice cuts through the murmur of the restaurant. “You said you’re in finance, right? How do you like it?”

“Yeah, it’s great. It requires a sharp mind.” I keep my eyes on the leather-bound menu that’s being crushed in my hands. “Not to say what you do isn’t… interesting, of course.”

A flicker of annoyance rises in my chest. What a douche answer.

I dare a sideways peek. Hunter’s smile tightens ever so slightly.

I clench my jaw, staring back hard at the list of main courses. The only word I can make out is filet—sounds good to me.

“How was your week?” Olivia asks, also still looking at her menu.

I blink. “Uh… long. Yours?”

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