Page 61 of The Roommate Experiment

There’s no point fighting my smile. He might be taken, off-limits, but I still desperately long for him. This effortless morning banter is how I had imagined us falling in love before he moved in. Before I knew about Olivia. But I need to remind myself I’m not the one he’s taking to the ball tonight, so I change topics.

“What’s the plan for today?” I take a sip of coffee. “Do you know what time Nina and Tristan are coming to pick me up? How much time do I have to re-transform into a human being?”

Dylan’s fork pauses halfway to his mouth. He sets it down, flashing me a lopsided, almost apologetic smile. “There’s been a slight change of plan. You’ll be riding with me.”

The coffee mug nearly flies out of my hands as I choke on a sip, coughing as horror slams into me like a wrecking ball. Oh, hell no. Being stuck in the back seat while Dylan and his girlfriend make googly eyes at each other in the front for two hours? Playing the literal third wheel? Fuck, no.

“Alright?” Dylan frowns.

I wave him off, to catch my breath. “Fine, just… went down the wrong pipe.”

As the initial shock of the awful driving arrangements settles, I rack my brain to find a way out of it. How can I decline without revealing why I don’t want to go with him and Olivia?

Why did Nina cancel my ride? How could she do that to me? Well, probably because she isn’t aware of the consequences. I’ve never confessed my true feelings for her brother to my best friend. And now I’m paying the price.

“Oh, um…” I keep my tone casual as I push my eggs around the plate. “Wouldn’t Olivia prefer to have you all to herself? You know, quality couple time and all that?”

Dylan’s brow furrows, and he hesitates before answering. “Olivia went to the Hamptons yesterday. She skipped work and her friends whisked her away for a long weekend.” He says it with a grimace of regret as if spending a night apart from her left a gaping void in his world.Gah.“She’s staying at their house for the weekend. She’ll meet me at the party.”

Another emotion I can’t decipher flickers across his face—it’s almost pain. But it’s gone before I can analyze it further, but it leaves me unsettled. Is he holding something back? What?

“Oh.” I blink, processing this new information. “Why aren’t we all going together in one car, then?”

Dylan bounces his knees under the table, looking sheepish. “Well, I won’t be staying the night at the resort. I signed up to volunteer at a soup kitchen on Sunday a while ago. I need to head back to the city after the party.”

Of course he did. Cue the mental image of him feeding the homeless while looking like a real-life fairytale prince. Dylan, with all the charm of a storybook hero, ladling out steaming bowls of soup to the less fortunate, the picture of human perfection.

It is such a pity I am not the heroine in this story.

But at least the engagement party won’t turn into a romantic Hamptons getaway for Dylan and Olivia. No moonlit walks on the beach for them. Or hot hotel sex.

Not that being back in New York will stop them from copulating. Maybe they’ll do it in our apartment even—cringe.

All of a sudden, the idea of them having sex in the city doesn’t sound much better than them doing it in the Hamptons. I’m not sure what’s worse, but at least I won’t be here to hear it. I definitely prefer their sexcapades to happen in a different zip code from where I’m sleeping.

29

DYLAN

The miles blur by in a shimmer of asphalt and sun haze as I coast along the highway toward the Hamptons, the summer heat radiating from the pavement. I shift gear, my fitted jacket pulling at my shoulders. Since I won’t be staying at the resort tonight, I’m already dressed for the party.

Next to me, Hunter looks more comfortable. With a room booked for later, she’s still in casual attire and will get changed at the hotel. Not that simple clothes make her any less appealing. My eyes dart briefly to her legs. To the pair of light-wash, ripped jean shorty-shorts that show too much skin to be good for my sanity, paired with a plain white V-neck T-shirt tucked loosely at the front.

No matter how resolutely I vow to keep my eyes on the road, at every stop, my gaze drifts toward her. To those mile-long legs that are lightly tanned, the denim frayed right to show off flawless, sun-kissed skin that catches the light, making me grip the steering wheel tighter. Her dark hair, now dry, tumbles down her shoulders, wild and un-styled—how I prefer it.

She kicks her shoes off, tucking her feet underneath her thighs on the seat.

“What is with this traffic? Aren’t all the rich people supposed to go to the Hamptons in their private helicopters?”

“Adrian could have arranged helicopter rides for all the guests. Would you have preferred that?”

I peek sideways, and our eyes lock. Hunter looks away first.

“Nah, then we’d miss the thrill of being stuck behind this minivan going ten under the speed limit.”

She says it with such a straight face, I laugh.

Hunter pulls her hair up into a messy bun, twisting it absently as she stares out the window. Now her long, lean neck is exposed, the stretch of smooth skin daring me to take a bite.

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