Page 53 of The Roommate Experiment

“After a while, I learned to be quiet, to fade into the background, not to draw her attention. I started going out of my way not to make waves. Even now, I avoid conflict on reflex—as if any wrong move will bring that same crushing spotlight back onto me.

“Once I got diagnosed, things got better. My parents were supportive. They hired tutors, specialists, and anyone they thought could help me overcome it. But it never went away. Dyslexia isn’t something you can cure.”

It’s a part of me, as much as my blue eyes or my love for basketball. But I’ve learned to live with, to work around it. But the challenges are a constant. Telling Hunter, putting it into words, makes it real. It’s a pressure valve releasing inside me—a secret shared, a burden halved.

Now that I’ve started, the words flow out. “Even now, reading isn’t easy for me. It’s exhausting. Over the years, I’ve developed coping mechanisms—memorizing what certain words look like instead of reading them, using audio tools to help with long reports at work, relying on my sharp memory to get through meetings.”

Hunter listens quietly, her hand still in mine, a gentle reassurance.

“But at work, in my high-pressure job, I’m constantly terrified that someone will notice that I struggle to function at a high level, reading contracts, reports, and financial documents. It’s one of my biggest fears.” The admission leaves me exposed. “I’ve made it this far, but a part of me will always believe I’m an imposter.”

Sitting in the quiet of the night, with Hunter beside me, I realize how freeing it is to open up. For so long, I’ve carried this burden alone, hiding behind a façade of confidence and competence. But now, the mask slips a little, and I let her see the real me—the part that’s scared, flawed, and still fighting to keep up.

Hunter squeezes my hand, her voice gentle when she speaks. “Dylan, what you’ve achieved, with dyslexia, is incredible. You’re not an imposter. You’re a fighter, and you’re winning.”

Her words wash over me, a balm to my insecurities. I turn to her. Only understanding shines in her eyes, acceptance, admiration even. It’s a look that sends my pulse racing and makes me feel truly seen, perhaps for the first time.

Hunter sags back. “But gosh, Thompson, you’re the worst at cheering up people.”

“I disagree, Brolin; is that a smile on your face?”

Her lips part into a grin, and she looks at me with only one eye open. “Okay, I’m smiling, but only because it’s been a while since someone made it okay for me to be a mess.”

With me, she can be a mess whenever she wants, and I’ll gladly carry whatever weight she can’t. I hope one day, she’ll let me.

25

HUNTER

Monday morning, I tiptoe around my apartment as the first slivers of light filter through the blinds. In the kitchen, the coffee pot gurgles and hisses right on schedule, the comforting aroma filling my nostrils as I pour the steaming liquid into my Thermos. It’s early, too early, but I need to make up for lost time at work.

At least that’s what I tell myself. That I’m not, once again, running away from my roommate. Or fleeing the memories of this past weekend with Dylan.

Sharing that dreadful sofa bed the first night, with the follow-up wet T-shirt contest. That moment in the pool the next day. And worst of all, the whispered confessions, raw and vulnerable, the second night. I push the thoughts aside. I can’t afford to dwell on any of that, on him. Dylan isn’t mine and never will be. The realization settles like a lead weight in my stomach as I screw the lid on my Thermos.

I gather my bag and keys, slipping out the door before Dylan emerges from his bedroom. Warm humidity slaps me in the face as I step outside, wilting my blouse. I hurry down to the stuffy metro station, wedging myself into the crowded car. As the train lurches forward, I grip the metal pole, my mind wandering despite my best efforts.

These past two weeks have been a blur of distractions and wasted time. Instead of focusing on my career, I went on disastrous date after disastrous date to forget about Dylan, only to have him consume my thoughts even more. And last week, I left work early on Wednesday to go to Connecticut for the long weekend, not even checking my emails once while I was away. My brain has been tuned 24/7 on the Dylan channel. But that ends now. It has to.

The metro screeches to a halt and I elbow my way out onto the platform. Striding into my building, I catch a break as the air conditioning envelops me. The heels of my sandals click decisively on the tiles as I walk over to my office, determined to regain control and focus on what matters—me, my goals.

I pause in my doorway, taking in the comforting sight of my organized space. The row of engineering manuals lining one shelf, my framed master’s degree on the wall. My desk is empty except for my laptop docking station and a few tidy folders, a small oasis of calm.

Settling into my ergonomic chair, I power up my computer. No more distractions. No more Dylan. It’s time to get back on track. I take a fortifying sip of coffee as my laptop whirs to life, ready to throw myself into work and leave the last few messy, confusing, nights behind.

As expected, after four and a half days of neglect, my inbox is overflowing with unread emails, the notifications popping up one after another in rapid succession.

I skim through the messages, triaging the most urgent items, when one subject line jumps out at me:

Carmichael Corp.: Project Revision Request

My pulse quickens as I click on the bold letters to open it, my eyes racing over the client’s message.

“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I mutter through clenched teeth as I reach the crux of the email. Carmichael Corp. is requesting significant changes to the design of their sustainable office complex—the challenging project I promised Daniel I could handle.

North Shore is my chance to make a name for myself, to prove that I have what it takes to lead a high-profile, groundbreaking building design from concept to completion. The goal is to achieve a LEED Platinum Certification, the gold standard for green building, by seamlessly integrating renewable energy, innovative materials, and eco-friendly technologies.

I’ve spent countless hours fine-tuning every detail, coordinating with the architects and tech specialists to complete the design: three sleek, modern towers connected by a light-filled central atrium. The roofs are fitted with solar panels, complemented by a geothermal heating system to decimate the carbon footprint. Triple-glazed windows and a closed-loop energy infrastructure will minimize waste, while rainwater harvesting will supply water to the toilets.

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