Page 35 of The Roommate Experiment

It’s easy to imagine Dylan’s tie coming off, his shirt ripping, revealing a big ‘S’ underneath. Judging by the way Lucas’s face reddens, but his lips stop moving, he’s clearly hoping this particular Superman keeps his alter ego in place.

After a few more beats of silence, Lucas decides he can’t win the fight and releases my wrist, leaving a reddish mark where his fingers had been. Finally free, I massage my skin. Dylan’s eyes follow the gesture, zeroing in on the faint bruise. His expression darkens, and he glares with such controlled fury that Lucas recoils in his chair, making it scrape on the floor as he stands up, chuckling while he backs away.

“Hey man, no need to make a scene.” Lucas raises his hands. “It was all a misunderstanding. And I was leaving, anyway.”

Dylan doesn’t break eye contact with Lucas, his body still tense, not even when Lucas makes one last attempt at maintaining some semblance of dignity, tossing a careless comment my way.

“She’s not worth the trouble, man.”

Dylan’s jaw goes so tight I fear a vortex might whip around him after all and reveal him in his superhero suit as he wipes the floor with Lucas. But Dylan doesn’t move. His stance remains rigid and controlled, his eyes burning with quiet fury. But his silence still speaks louder than any words could. Lucas shrivels under the weight of it, giving Dylan a wide berth as he circles our table and bolts for the exit.

Once Lucas is gone, Dylan’s gaze shifts back to me, his concern softening the hard edges of his expression. “Are you okay?” he asks, his voice gentle.

I’m mortified, but I manage a nod. “Yeah, I’m okay. Thanks for…” For what? Thanks for rescuing me from the latest gem I found on a dating app? Thanks for ruining your own date to save me from my disastrous one?

Speaking of his date, I spot Olivia behind Dylan, and she looks absolutelynotokay. Her face is a storm of emotions: hurt, confusion, and most of all, anger. She’s sitting rigid, her hand clenched around the edge of the table as if she’s struggling to hold back her rage.

I try to convey this to Dylan, widening my eyes and tilting my head in Olivia’s direction. But Dylan, bless his oblivious heart, is still looking at me, missing my nonverbal cues.

Just as I’m about to verbalize the impending girlfriend crisis, Olivia stands up, throwing her napkin on the table, nostrils flaring, as she addresses Dylan.

“I’ll leave as well.” Her voice rises with every word. “Since you are more interested in her night than ours.”

Dylan spins around, registering Olivia’s presence and her less-than-pleased demeanor. “Olivia, wait,” he starts, his hands raised in a placating gesture. “I had to step in.”

But Olivia is having none of it. She grabs her purse, her knuckles white from the tight grip. “Really, Dylan? Because from where I’m sitting, it looks like you care more aboutherdate than ours.”

The accusation hangs in the air, heavy and loaded. Dylan opens his mouth to respond, but Olivia doesn’t give him the chance.

“Save it. I’ve had enough bullshit for one night.” She stomps out of the restaurant, her heels clicking sharply against the floor with each furious step.

Dylan calls after her, his voice tinged with desperation. “Olivia, please. Let me explain.”

She doesn’t even falter. Olivia heads straight for the exit, not sparing him a second glance. And just like that, she’s gone, leaving Dylan gaping and stunned.

He stays rooted on the spot. Then, as if snapping out of a trance, he turns to me, his expression apologetic.

“Hunter, I’m so sorry, but I have to…” He gestures toward the door.

I jerk my chin in the same direction. “Go,” I tell him, mustering a weak smile. “And thanks again for everything.”

He gives me a quick, grateful nod before rushing out after Olivia, shouting for her to wait, to let him explain. My wrist aches where Lucas grabbed me, but what hurts the most is watching Dylan run after his girlfriend.

And then, I’m alone. Sitting deflated at my table, my pulse still racing from the confrontation. I slump as the weight of the night settles into my bones. Everything feels heavier now: the room, my body, the not-quite-silence of the restaurant. I’m too drained to contemplate how I’ll face Dylan after this. Or the mess our cohabitation is turning out to be.

Soon, the adrenaline wears off, leaving me even more exhausted. I’m about to drop my head in my hands when the server arrives with our main courses, balancing the plates with an awkward smile. The rich aroma that would have been enticing under normal circumstances now turns my stomach.

“Could you please box everything?” My voice sounds distant even to my own ears. “And bring the check. Thanks.”

She nods, whisking the plates away, and returns a short while later with my boxed meal andtwoleather folders.

I expect her to hand me one, but she doesn’t, shifting uncomfortably on her feet.

“I’m sorry, miss.” She hesitates. “But will you be settling the bill for the table next door as well? They’ve left, and you all seem to know each other…”

If the situation didn’t suck so much, it might be funny. Isn’t it hilarious? Having to foot Dylan’s bill is the cherry on top of an already calamitous evening.

“I’ll pay for both,” I tell the server.

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