Page 57 of The Roommate Experiment

“Does a protein bar count?”

“No. And a midnight snack won’t kill either of us.”

She sits down with a sigh. “I won’t argue with food at this point. What’s on the menu, chef?”

“Grilled cheese sandwich,” I reply with a grin. “Classic comfort food.”

As we sit in comfortable silence, the kitchen filled only with the crunchy noise of teeth biting into toasted bread, I appreciate the ease of this simple moment. No pressure to fill the air with words, no awkward pauses. Just two people, sharing a sandwich when it’s dark outside. There’s something so… effortless about it. The world outside of these walls doesn’t matter anymore, and all the noise in my head quiets down. I’d take a hundred of these quiet, late-night snacks with Hunter over any elaborate plans.

She eats the sandwich like she is starving and I wonder if she also skipped lunch. I don’t ask. I don’t want to mother her; the last thing I need is for our interaction to become even more platonic. When she stands up and tells me goodnight, I linger in the hall, staring at her door for the longest time.

* * *

Then Friday arrives and tonight, things with Olivia will finally be over. I’ve barely let out a sigh of relief at the thought when my phone pings with a text from her. The phone’s virtual assistant reads it aloud to me, in her robotic, neutral voice.

“Message from Olivia: Babe, please call me when you have a minute. It’s about tonight, please don’t be mad.”

I stare at the phone, a sense of dread creeping up my spine. It might be nothing, but with the bad karma I’ve been accumulating lately, it could be anything from her asking about dinner plans to another emotional gut punch that’ll leave me tongue-tied and trapped. I rub my forehead, a headache already brewing. Only one way to find out what she wants. I press the call button.

27

HUNTER

I stride into the office on Friday morning with a giant smile plastered on my face. No, it’s not because Dylan made me a sandwich at midnight yesterday. Grilled cheese doesn’t hold that kind of power over me, no matter how ooey-gooey and delicious—the food and the chef. It was a nice gesture, sure, but he’s just a nice guy being nice.

Dylan wasn’t beaming at me extra brightly or holding eye contact for more than a purely friendly interaction would suggest. Nope, that was all in my head and not at all the reason I can’t stop smiling.

No, I’m this excited only because I’m about to absolutely crush it at work today. I’ve been busting my butt all week on these revisions for the North Shore project, determined to wow the client with my brilliant problem-solving skills. Mark with his scheming and backstabbing won’t know what hit him. This is my moment to shine.

I waltz into the Carmichael Corp. meeting, my mind clear and extra-caffeinated. Mark and Daniel are already seated at the sleek, glass conference table; I nod in their direction and shake hands with all the top executives who have come to hear my pitch.

Squaring my shoulders, I launch into my presentation, outlining the smart glass system designed to regulate the atrium’s temperature without compromising the aesthetic. “By utilizing this innovative technology,” I explain, “we can significantly reduce heat gain while maintaining the visual impact of the space.”

I detail the vertical garden’s automated irrigation and the sustainable materials sourced for the interior finishes. Mark shifts in his seat, but I continue undeterred. This is my element.

I get to the burning heart of the matter: the added costs the new atrium design will incur. Daniel leans forward, his brow furrowed, as I break down the numbers. No one likes to tell clients they’re going over budget. “While these modifications do come with an increased upfront investment,” I acknowledge, “the long-term savings on energy and maintenance will more than justify the expense.”

I click on my last slide, a 3D rendering of the reimagined atrium glowing with green life. “This is more than an office complex,” I declare, meeting the clients’ gazes with unwavering conviction. “This is a chance to set a new standard for sustainable architecture in the corporate world. With the North Shore project, Carmichael Corp. can cement its position as an industry leader and innovator.”

As I finish, a charged silence fills the room. I stare around.

Mark looks equal parts impressed and irritated. No doubt he’d been hoping for a different outcome. Daniel seems proud. But it’s the client’s reaction that counts the most.

The executive at the opposite head of the table clears his throat, his tie askew. “Ms. Brolin, while we appreciate your… enthusiasm, these additional costs are not insignificant.” He taps his fingers against the gleaming tabletop, a subtle tell of his hesitation.

I’m ready for the pushback. “I understand your concern,” I reply, my tone even and assured. “But if I may, these changes were proposed by Carmichael Corp. to add a wow factor. Unfortunately, adding such a visual impact has a cost. Of course, the initial design is still perfectly viable and in line with your budget.” I pause, letting my words sink in. “The final decision rests with you.”

The executives exchange glances, a silent conversation passing between them. I stand my ground, projecting an air of calm confidence even as my heart pounds under my blazer.

The head executive nods, a slow smile spreading across his face. “Well, Ms. Brolin, you drive a hard bargain. But you’ve made a compelling case. We’re on board with the revised design and budget.”

Relief and elation flood through me, but I keep my expression composed as we shake hands and exchange pleasantries until the executives from Carmichael Corp. leave the conference room.

Daniel and Mark linger behind, and I glimpse Mark’s face. His earlier mocking pout has been replaced by a look of begrudging respect, tinged with a hint of surprise. A surge of satisfaction curses through me at proving him wrong.

Daniel approaches me, a satisfied grin on his face. “Hunter, that was outstanding work.” His handshake is steady and slightly lingering as if he wants to reinforce the weight of his words. “You’ve shown incredible promise since you joined the firm, but this… this was next level.”

The way he holds my gaze, resolute, yet warm, makes me realize he’s finally seeing me as an equal. “Thank you, Daniel.” I manage to keep my voice steady. “I’m glad we could find a solution that works for everyone.”

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