Page 74 of Roommating

“Gotta go.” I end the FaceTime call and remind myself to pretend I’m comfortable using my body to manipulate Adam. It’s not like he doesn’t have it coming. He did it first! Like Sydney Sweeny said in her interview withGlamourmagazine, “A woman having large breasts makes men stupid.” That’s what me and my 34Cs are here for. To that end, I lean over the kitchen island and greet him with a simple “Hey.”

Wearing a My Chemical Romance T-shirt and black sweatpants, Adam’s sex appeal is less blatant than mine today, which doesn’t make him any less hot, but hopefully means he’s off his game.

He hops onto a stool on the other side of the counter from me. “Cooking dinner for Marcia tonight?”

I shake an imaginary Magic 8 Ball and pretend to peer into it. “It is decidedly so.”

His gaze dips to my cleavage and he swallows hard.

I bite my lip to keep from smiling.

It takes him less than a second to recover and when he looks up again, there’s a glint in his eyes. “How’s it going?”

I gesture toward the lasagna pan. “I’d say it’s going well.”

“It’s very ambitious of you. I’d have thought you’d start with simple penne and sauce.”

“Go big or go home.” I push out my breasts and watch his gaze dip again.

His tongue darts out and wets his lower lip. “Great motto.”

“You want to join us?”

He doesn’t flinch. “If I’m invited.”

“The more, the merrier.”

I “accidentally” knock a fork off the island and bend down exaggeratedly to retrieve it from the floor.

Adam beats me to it. We lock eyes.

“What are you doing, Sabrina?” His voice is husky as he kneels with his hands on his thighs.

Also kneeling at his eye level, I don’t look away. “I’m making dinner, Adam. I thought we established that already.”

He hands me the fork. “To me. What are you doingto me?”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about.”

We straighten our backs at the same time.

Adam steps closer to me. “I hope your plan doesn’t backfire.”

I look up at him as my heart threatens to beat out of my chest. “I’m highly confident it won’t.” I’m such a ginormous liar, my nose is probably growing at this very moment.

“You said yourself that you’re a disaster in the kitchen.”

“If you can follow a dog treat recipe, I can follow one for lasagna.”

We stand off for a few seconds. I will myself not to be the first to break eye contact.

Finally, Adam takes a step back. “Good luck.” He smirks and leaves me alone.

I put the lasagna in the oven and start cutting vegetables for the salad, but my hands keep shaking so I put down the knife for a break. What am I even doing? Do I really think making a good meal for Marcia is the key to not losing the apartment to Adam? But I’ve committed to this plan and, unlike Adam, when I commit to something, I don’t quit.

I pick up the knife and resume slicing a cucumber as Adam comes back in, opens the refrigerator, sticks his head inside, and closes it again.

“Don’t ruin your appetite or you won’t be hungry for dinner.”

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