Page 37 of Roommating

I have an hour before I’m supposed to meet some classmates at the university library to work on a group project, but I can’t get out of here fast enough. After hightailing it to my room for my things, I rush through the living room to the front door without a word and slam it behind me.

Chapter Eighteen

My bad mood follows me to the university library. Who does Adam think he is, going off on me for no reason?

I didn’t creep over to the couch in the middle of the night and remove his kidney while he was sleeping. I wasn’t snooping in a private journal. I read a book (not mine, not the library’s,his!) and I dared to do it while sitting on his “bed.” Arrest me. Lock me up and throw away the key. Hang me from the gallows!

I’m thankfully able to put it aside just long enough to work on my group presentation on adolescent literacy and why analog instruction is still relevant in an increasingly digital society. But the minute I say goodbye to my classmates and head home, the knots in my body tighten to the point it would take a twenty-four-hour massage to loosen me up. I hope Adam isn’t home when I get back because I refuse to make the first move, but he’s roughhousing with Rocket on the living room floor. Since I’m not ready for the awkwardness of our first words postwhatever the hell that wasthis morning, I grab Rocket’s leash from the hook near the front door and call out, “Rocket Man! C’mere, boy.”

At his name, Rocket abandons Adam and races over to me.Takethat!I bend and love him up for a few seconds before hooking him to the leash.

“I just took him out an hour ago.”

Still focusing on Rocket, I say, “I need some puppy time.” I clench my fists. Why am I justifying myself to Adam? I knew Rocket first, and based on the way the dog is frantically running around me, he might notneedto go out, but hewantsto. That’s enough for me. Without further explanation or details (because I’m under no more obligation to keep Adam updated on my whereabouts than he is to me about his), I leave the apartment and lead Rocket over to the small dog run in Union Square Park. When I release him from his leash, he immediately makes friends with a shaggy gray sheepdog while I sit on an empty brown wooden bench and watch.

Other than the convenience of being around the corner, Marcia isn’t a fan of this dog park. It’s small and Rocket has the personality of a much larger dog. She also claims there’s a constant cloud of dust hanging over and it smells like pee. I don’t notice either of these things today, maybe because it’s empty aside from the owner of the sheepdog talking on his phone on the bench next to mine. The air is cold and wet like it either just stopped raining or is about to start. It’s not pleasant, but I’m happy to be anywhere besides home with Adam.

Almost like I summoned him, the devil himself appears two minutes later. “Why does it always smell like piss in this place?” He sits down next to me.

I stiffen and shift an inch away from him. “Do you not trust me to take Rocket? I was doing it long before you moved in.” I don’t look at him as I say this. My gaze remains on Rocket. He’s slapping his front legs repeatedly with his butt in the air, initiating play with a new arrival, some sort of poodle mix.

“Of course I trust you.”

“Then why did you follow me here?”

“To apologize. I didn’t mean to snap at you earlier.”

I turn away from the bouncy dogs to look at him and nearly wince.

He’s so handsome, it’s almost painful. Even in his gray sweater fleece jacket, and loose jeans, he’s ready for a casting call forEmily in Parisor aBachelorspin-off. If a stranger as hot as Adam initiated conversation with me in a dog park, it would be a brag-worthy moment.

“So why did you?”

He shoves his hands in his jacket pockets. “It was the book you were reading…The Outsiders. My mom gave it to me. Her mom gave it to her. The annotations are from all three of us scribbling in the margins in real time while reading.”

A blast of heat creeps across my face. Oh shit, itwasa little like reading a diary. “I’d never have purposely invaded your privacy if I’d known. For what it’s worth, I was entirely focused on the story itself. I barely read the annotations.”

“It’s not top-secret, classified stuff or anything. It’s just…” He stares down at his scuffed white Vans and kicks a pebble with his foot. “I don’t have many tangible reminders of my mom. The book is old. If it gets damaged, there’ll be one less.” He shrugs into himself. “But whatever, it’s my problem, not yours. I should probably keep it somewhere safe instead of bringing it with me everywhere I go.”

I imagine losing my mom so young and having only a handful of her personal items to cling to. I’d be protective of them too. My heart aches for Adam. “I get it. I’m sorry.”

He scoffs. “This ismyapology, Sabrina.I’mthe sorry one.” His intense glare morphs into a cheek-splitting, dimple-twinkling grin that I can’t help but return.

“When was the last time you read it?”

“Last night actually. I do a reread about once a year around her birthday.”

“It aged well! Even today, teenagers deal with bullying, social classes, stereotyping based on socioeconomic factors. All of it.”

“Do it for Johnny!”

“Nothing gold can stay.” We exchange silly grins again.

The wind rips through me and I lift the hood of my red windbreaker over my head. “Marcia told me about your mom. I’m so sorry.”

He nods solemnly. “Me too.”

“I haven’t seen or heard from my dad in almost twenty years.” I don’t know why I say this, and I instantly wish I could take it back. A deadbeat parent is not the same as a dead one.

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