Page 34 of The Roommate Experiment

Did she order a snail appetizer? Guess that’s my punishment for thinking I could bluff my way past a learning disability. I watch Olivia in a sort of fascinated revulsion as she easily extracts the slimy creature from its shell with a small fork. She doesn’t eat it, though, and looks at me instead. Does she expect me to partake?

With a sigh, I grab the tiny fork and stab at a shell, the slick mollusk sliding free with a sickening squelch. My stomach turns.

The rubbery thing wobbles as I raise it to my mouth, steeling myself.Just swallow. Get it over with. Don’t think about it.

I pop it in my mouth, the chewy texture hitting me like a punch. Garlic butter coats my tongue, but it’s not enough to mask the gummy horror I’m trying hard not to gag on. I bite down, each gnaw worse than the last. This is a nightmare.

At least having my mouth full saves me from having to talk. I chew slowly, pretending to enjoy the “delicacy,” but my ears are tuned in to Lucas’s voice. He’s talking again, still missing the quiet, simmering anger from Hunter.

His tone has taken on a slimy, suggestive edge—slimier than what’s currently in my mouth. “Oh, I’m sure you’re great at a lot of things. You’ve got that whole ‘boss lady’ vibe going on. You’re used to telling guys what to do, huh? That’s hot.”

“Excuse me?” Hunter hisses.

“Did you like theescargot?” Olivia asks.

I grimace as I will myself to swallow the thing. “They’re something. Maybe not for me.” I gulp down wine to wash the awful taste away.

Olivia chuckles. “Well, I can’t finish them on my own.”

There are like a dozen of the suckers on the plate. I hope she doesn’t expect me to eat half of them. Still, dutifully, I grab another one.

I’m fumbling with the snail, trying not to think about what I’m eating, when Hunter scoffs next to me. Instinctively, I glance over as Lucas leans in closer, his voice dropping. “It’s not often you meet a woman who can be both smart and still… take care of a man’s needs. You’re the full package. Brains, looks… bet you’re even a little feisty between the sheets.”

Hunter’s face hardens, and her voice cuts like a blade. “You’re the full package, too. Arrogant, condescending, and now, gross.”

“Hey, I’m paying you a compliment. You can be tough at work and still know how to relax after hours, right? I bet you’re a lot more fun when you’re not calling the shots.”

Hunter drops her napkin on the table. “Well, I’m calling the shots now and I’m leaving.”

I want to whoop in relief that this ordeal will be over for both of us.

Hunter stands, her chair scraping against the floor as she moves to leave. But Lucas grabs her wrist to drag her back down.

Seeing his filthy hand on her perfect skin is the breaking point—I snap. My lips pull tight, baring my teeth as my legs push my chair away from the table. I’m already halfway standing before I even realize what I’m doing.

16

HUNTER

I throw in the towel on this date—literally by dropping my napkin on my still-empty plate. But as I stand to leave, Lucas shows cobra-like reflexes, grabbing my wrist from across the table to prevent me from standing. His clammy palm closes around my flesh, gripping too tightly. It feels like I have an actual snake coiled over my wrist instead of a human hand.

I yank my arm away, but he holds fast, his fingers digging into my skin.

“Let me go,” I hiss.

But Lucas doesn’t budge. As an irrational panic is about to set in, Dylan surges from the table next to ours, his presence dominating the scene.

“Let her go,” Dylan orders, deathly calm.

Lucas ignores his request. “Look, buddy, we’re in the middle of??—”

Dylan’s expression remains mild as he clamps his hand on Lucas’s shoulder, the grip firm enough to silence him. “First off, I’m not yourbuddy. And whatever you think you were in the middle of? That’s done.”

The two men stare each other down, our bodies locked in this bizarre chain where Dylan’s gripping Lucas, and Lucas still has his disgusting fingers around my wrist. We’re like some twisted version of a team-building exercise, except no one’s bonding, and everyone wants out of the circle.

Dylan cuts an impressive figure in his tailored suit. He has this “Clark Kent moments before ducking into a phone booth to become Superman” vibe to him. He emanates a quiet strength, an untapped well of energy waiting to be unleashed. His broad shoulders fill out his jacket in a way that suggests he could rip through the fabric if the situation called for it. Lucas, instead, looks like he’s poured himself into an off-the-rack suit that strains against his protein-shake muscles.

The contrast between them is stark. Dylan exudes a calm, dominant authority, while Lucas radiates the desperate bravado of a schoolyard bully who’s just figured out he’s picked on the wrong kid. Under Dylan’s steady glare, my date seems to shrink, as if realizing he isn’t facing an ordinary man, but a force of nature barely contained by a civilized attire.

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