Page 80 of Roommating

I drop my gaze to his chest and right back up. “Done.”

He leans forward so we’re eye level. “You know what I think?”

I gulp. “What?”

He wets his lips.

My own chest heaves obnoxiously. Logically I know that if I don’t breathe soon I might asphyxiate myself, but my lungs won’t cooperate.

“I think you’re afraid to look at my body because then you’ll be forced to admit you want me.”

The hypocrisy of what he just said springs my lungs back into action and I take a deep inhale. “Like you admitted to wantingmein my tank top the other day?”

He shrugs. “That’s easy. I admit it. I wanted you then. I want you now. I even told that Gwen person at the library it wouldn’t be fair to give her my number because I’m too into you.”

My body goes still. “You did?”

He nods. “Yes.”

I’m so unnerved by his sincere expression, all I can manage in response is, “Oh.”

“Ilikeyou, Sabrina.”

I hate how much I wanted to hear that.Neededto hear it. I drop my gaze to his bare stomach, letting it linger this time. It’s too much to resist. “Where’s Marcia?” I trace a finger from his belly up his sternum and place my palm over his heart.

It thumps against my hand. “On a date.”

I blink. “Another one? Same person as before?”

He cages me against the wall. “Don’t change the subject.”

My eyes softly close and I feel the heat of his mouth against mine. He traces my lower lip with his teeth and draws me into a kiss. My legs wobble as I sink into it, raking my hands through his hair, until he breaks away and whispers, “I miss you,” in my ear.

I stroke the back of his neck. “I miss you too.” My body aches with need.

“If you agree to move out, we can stop this stupid competition and be together.”

I jolt out of his embrace while an army of emotions battle for prominence: anger, humiliation, disappointment. “Are you for real?”

“What?” He has the nerve to look all innocent.

My hands curl into fists. “The same is true ifyoumove out!” Before he can respond, I wiggle out of his way and into the hallway. “Conceited jerk!”

He laughs at my back. “So I guess you don’t want to forfeit?”

“Oh, fuck off.” I march to my room and slam the door behind me. I flop onto my bed and scream into my pillow. I can’t believe I fell for Adam’s tricks. Except Icanbecause he’s so convincing with his smoldering gazes, romantic declarations, and passionate kisses. It’s hard to tell what’s real and what’s part of the game.

I want to hide out in my room for the rest of the night while I recover from my emotional riptide, but my schoolbag is still in the living room and it’s not like I can study without my notes. I’m not in the mood to do homework anyway. What Iwantto do is zone out to trashy television. If I can do that while showing Adam I’m not at all affected by our kiss, even better. With that, I toss the pillow I’m still holding over my face across the bed and stand up.

Adam’s conveniently still in Marcia’s room so I grab my purse and get comfy on the couch with a blanket around my legs even though it’s May and turn on the newest tell-all episode ofNinety Day Fiancé. I check my email against a backdrop of the latest season’s cast revealing inside scoops that the audience never saw. While scrolling from the bottom up, past emails from theSkimm,Refinery29,Library and Information Science News, theNewsette, andTeen Librarian Toolbox,a new email message comes in from Verizon at the same time a notification pops up from the app.

I read the notification and my breath hitches. My bank has declined my automatic phone payment this month due to insufficient funds. I sit up and throw the blanket to the floor. This can’t be right. I close out of the Verizon app and log in to my online banking app. I should know how much money I have—give or take fifty dollars—but I haven’t checked in a while, a nugget of information that would frustrate my mother the way people refusing to leave the library at closing time frustrates me and my fellow librarians. Within seconds, my current balance is displayed prominently on the screen and my pulse races: $98.73.

A chill runs through me. How? It can’t be! My first instinct is I’ve been robbed. Someone has hacked my debit card and stolen all my money! Then reality sets in: no one else is to blame for my money mismanagement except me. I deflate like a faulty air mattress. On the bright side, even Carley can’t argue the impossibility of my going to Europe when I don’t even have enough money in my checking account to cover automatic phone payments. I curl into the fetal position and try not to cry.

“I see you’ve made yourself comfortable on my couch.”

I raise my head slightly to see Adam standing over me holding Marcia’s winter comforter. I heard her ask him to store it at the top of the closet until the fall. I drop my head back to the pillow.

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