Page 33 of The Roommate Experiment

Lucas smirks as if he’s in on some joke no one else finds funny. “Ah, numbers can be tricky. Good thing they’ve invented spreadsheets, huh?”

Did he seriously say that?Pity they still haven’t invented brain-to-mouth filters to cure his verbal diarrhea. This guy’s a complete jerk. But Hunter, always composed, doesn’t flinch. “I have a minor in mathematics. But sure, spreadsheets help.”

Olivia taps her fingernails against the side of her empty wine glass, the sharp clicks drawing my attention back to her. “Did you want to do something together tomorrow?”

“Uh, sure.”

“We could check out the new Harlem Renaissance and Transatlantic Modernism exhibit tomorrow night at The Met. It’s supposed to be incredible—showcasing artists who redefined modern art.”

I tune out Lucas’s laugh and another one of his obnoxious answers. “A math minor. Wow, color me impressed.”

Stay focused, Dylan.“Uh, actually, I can’t tomorrow night,” I say, scratching my jaw. “I’ve got dinner with my friends.”

Olivia gapes at me. “Girlfriends aren’t invited?”

I sigh, knowing my next few sentences are a potential minefield. “It’s not like that… but it’s complicated. We’re meeting the fiancé of my sister’s pregnant best friend, Rowena. I barely got asked along myself. Winnie wouldn’t be comfortable if I brought along someone she doesn’t know.”

Olivia’s smile tightens. She glares at Hunter, probably doing the math that my roommate is invited and part of the inner circle, and she gives a short, clipped nod. “Sure. Of course. If I knew you already had plans for Saturday, I could’ve made my own with my friends.”

I’m sweating cold. “S-sorry, work’s been a shit-show this week. I—it was inconsiderate of me.”

“It’s okay. I forget stuff all the time, too.” Her tone is light, but there’s no mistaking the offended edge in her words.

The server arriving with the wine saves me again. She sets the bottle down on the table, uncorking it with a flourish. Unfortunately, this leaves me free to hear another one of Lucas’s pearls.

“I’m glad women can contribute to fields that used to be over their heads.”

“Over our heads?”

I pretend to follow the server’s maneuvers to study how Hunter is taking this last gem. Her expression is tight, her hands now folded in her lap, and Lucas, oblivious, shrugs with a smug grin. “Oh, come on. It’s great to see women getting involved in more technical stuff. Even if it’s more in a supporting role.”

Hunter crosses her arms, her lips thinning into a tight line. “I’m a lead consultant on most of my projects.”

“Right, right. You must be great at organizing everyone else. Guys need that sometimes. We can be all over the place. Good thing someone’s around keeping things tidy.”

I stare at the pale-gold liquid the server just poured and take a long sip.

“This is great.” I drop the glass, struggling to smile. “Thanks for picking it.”

“Glad you like it.” Olivia clinks her glass with mine. “Hey, do you want to hang out during the day tomorrow since you’re busy at night?”

“Tidy?” Hunter asks in a bitter tone.

“Yeah, I’m free all day.” Paying attention to two conversations at once is maddening.

Lucas laughs, missing the rising frustration in Hunter’s voice. “Yeah. You know, women are naturally better at organizing things. Like keeping the house in order. Or a project.”

“Dylan?” Olivia’s inflection sharpens. “Are you okay?”

I didn’t even realize I was crushing the stem of my wine glass. “Yeah, yeah. We can go to the Transit Renaissance thing at MoMA.”

“You mean the Transatlantic Modernism exhibit at The Met?”

“Yeah, the one.”

“Platter ofescargotfor two.” The server comes back with our appetizers.

I gape at the plate she’s set between us, my stomach doing an uneasy flip because, there, sitting in little pools of creamed herbs, are… snails. I glance up at Olivia, who’s already reaching for one, unfazed.

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