Page 67 of The Roommate Experiment

Olivia paces, feet kicking up sand. “I can’t fucking believe this.” She stops, fixing me with a stare that could freeze lava. “This isn’t working for me, Dylan.”

“What’s not working?”

“This. Us.” She gestures between our chests. “I could overlook you being distracted half the times we are together. Or that I always have to text you first. You have a demanding job and a life outside of me, I get it.” She’s flapping her hands like a mad person. “But I refuse to waste my time on a dog hater.”

“I’m not a dog hater.” I throw my arms up, exasperated. “I love dogs. But I have a realistic view of how much mourning is appropriate for a pet.”

Olivia scoffs, folding her arms across her chest. “Oh, really? And what’s the Dylan Thompson approved level of mourning, huh?”

I sigh, running a hand through my hair. “Look, when Frisky, my family’s cat, died, I was sad. I cried. But we didn’t build a shrine, or sing hymns about his favorite catnip, or spend weeks crying every time we saw a ball of yarn, convinced we heard his meow in the wind.”

Olivia’s eyes widen, her mouth falling open. “Are you mocking my grief?”

“No, I’m trying to put things in perspective.”

“Perspective?” She laughs a harsh, humorless sound. “Here’s some perspective for you, Dylan. Theo was there for me through everything. When my parents divorced, when I got cut from the soccer team, when my first boyfriend dumped me. He never judged, and never gave unsolicited advice. He loved me, unconditionally. But of course, you wouldn’t understand, being a cat person.”

“What’s that supposed to mean? Dogs aren’t better than cats. And just because I grew up with a cat, it doesn’t mean I hate dogs.”

“No, you’re right, dogs aresomuch better than cats,” Olivia snickers. “And you have the same shitty personality as a cat.”

“What?” I blink, taken aback. “How?”

Olivia ticks off points on her fingers. “Let’s see. You’re aloof, ungrateful, and self-serving. You only want affection on your terms. And you assume you’re above everyone else.”

I stare at her, my jaw clenched. “Frisky was none of those things. He was a great cat, and we all loved him. But we didn’t host a funeral with grief-aiding party favors for him.”

Olivia’s eyes fill with tears as her bottom lip trembles. “If you’re making fun of my grief socks, then you’re a truly horrible person, Dylan Thompson. I want nothing to do with you ever again.”

She spins on her heel, storming away toward the resort exit. I’m tempted to let her go, to call it a night and be done with this entire ridiculous relationship. But it’s late, and despite everything, I don’t want anything to happen to her.

Grumbling under my breath, I jog after her. She’s already on the phone, her voice thick with tears as she pleads with her friends to come pick her up. “You’re never going to believe what happened,” she sobs. “It’s always the harmless ones that turn out to be the biggest jerks.”

I roll my eyes but keep following her until we reach the parking lot. Olivia whirls around, glaring at me through her tears. “Leave me alone, Dylan.”

“Trust me, I will. As soon as you’re safe with your friends.” I stuff my hands in my pockets, rocking back on my heels.

After that, we wait in the most awkward of silences. Olivia’s shoulders are vibrating with indignation. Finally, the same top-off Jeep from earlier pulls into the lot. Olivia shoots me one last withering look. “Never contact me again.”

I bite back a sarcasticas ifand mumble low, “Not unless I need advice on how to mourn a hamster.”

Olivia mounts the car, the angry glares of three other women in the seats boring into me. And then they’re gone, tires screeching as they peel out of the parking lot.

Shaking my head, I make my way to my car. Sliding into the driver’s seat, I close the door and lean my head back against the headrest. I sit staring at the interior roof. And then, I start to laugh.

It bubbles up from my chest, spilling out of me in great, heaving guffaws. I laugh until my sides ache and tears stream down my face. Because what else can I do? This whole night, this entire relationship has been one ludicrous misunderstanding after another.

As my laughter subsides, I wipe my eyes and start the car. One thing’s for sure, I’ll think twice before dating a dog person again.

32

HUNTER

I walk into the resort’s breakfast hall, to shake off the exhaustion that’s glued itself to my skin. I spot Nina sitting by the window alone, with her usual aura ofI’m up early and thriving. Meanwhile, I’ve got dark circles that might as well be permanent accessories. At least the coffee smells strong.

Nina sees me and gestures to the seat next to her. I slide in, offering what I hope is a convincing grin. My mind’s been on overdrive, and last night didn’t help. I wonder if I should’ve stayed in bed this morning—maybe for the rest of my life.

After a few minutes, Rowena joins us, looking a little rumpled but still gorgeous. Her sundress flows around her and her skin glows, but she has bags under her eyes, too. “Hey,” she greets us, her smile strained.

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