Page 64 of Roommating

“Possibly.” I swipe right on the profile, smiling as a notification immediately pops up that I matched with Adam, who also sent me a compliment:

Adam:Whatever perfume you’re wearing is driving me wild.

I giggle and type a reply.

Sabrina:I’m not wearing perfume. It must be Marcia’s shower gel.

Adam laughs.

Marcia looks up from her phone. “Looks like you’re both enjoying yourselves.”

“Totally,” I say at the same time Adam says, “This was a great idea.”

Ping.

Adam:What are you doing later, Sabrina, 24?

I tap my lips.

Sabrina:What do you have in mind, Adam, 25?

“You still going to the co-op board meeting tonight, Grams?”

I jerk my head back. That was random.

Marcia looks up from her phone. “Yes, why? My blood pressure does not render me incapable of voting whether or not to install Nest thermostats in the units.”

“Don’t get defensive. I was just wondering.” He chuckles while typing.

Adam:Down to hang tonight after your class? Around 8?

Oh. Not so random after all. My insides tingle.

Adam cocks his head at me in question. I type my answer.

Sabrina:I’m down.

Chapter Twenty-Seven

The next day, I meet Carley for a late breakfast before my afternoon shift at the library. Friday mornings and early afternoons are one of the rare chunks of time when both of us are consistently free.

Carley is dressed like she’s straight off the set ofEmily in Parisin a pink, black, and gray argyle sweater with a matching pink corduroy skirt and white lace-trim socks. It was also her suggestion to eat at Le Pain Quotidien, a Belgian bakery not too far from the library, but since we sat down, she’s been more focused on scrolling travel influencer accounts on Instagram than catching up with me. She’s the living, breathing definition of wanderlust.

“Check this out!” From our two-person wood table by a window overlooking Broadway in the Flatiron District, she shows me her phone. It’s open to a photo of Laurel from the popular travel account @takemeaway.laurel. She’s wearing a multicolor gingham dress and standing in front of a body of water, on the other side of which is a landscape of pastel-colored houses.

My mouth drops open. “It’s so beautiful it almost looks like a painting.”

“Right? She’s in Belgium.” Carley runs her thumb along thephone and coos at the photo like it’s a precious newborn baby. She looks up at me with a determined glint in her blue eyes. “My show is closing this summer and I’m going to Europe before my next job.”

“Nice!” I take a sip of cappuccino.

“You should come with.”

I lower my mug and scoff. “I wish.”

“Don’t wish. Do.”

“I have school, remember?”

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