Page 82 of Roommating

For rent: Studio apartment in Hell’s Kitchen. Red Sox and Patriots fans only. Yankees and Giants fans and friends/relatives of Yankees and Giants fans need not apply.

I wasn’t sure if as a Connecticuter you were Team Yankees or Red Sox, but maybe? (Go Phillies!)

My muscles tense. I don’t need to keep going but read the next one anyway.

Roommate wanted: Seeking a roommate for my two-bedroom apartment in Long Island City. Water, heat, and electricity included but must contribute to various streaming channels. Also must agree to keep track of daily bowel movements on shared Excel spreadsheet.

This one speaks for itself.

I flop backward on the bed and groan, kicking my feet. Just when I start to feel like the villain, he pulls this crap! I freeze with my legs mid kick as it occurs to me that this isexactlywhat I wanted: to be so annoyed with Adam—quite difficult when he’s spewing bullshit like not wanting the worst for me and feeding me chocolate chip cookies—that it reignites my motivation to win this battle. My breathing slows. This is good. I sit up and contemplate whether to confront him or act like it never happened. And then I have an even better idea.

A half hour later, I text him.

Sabrina: See attached links to RoomBridge. Didi sounds sweet and her apartment is centrally located in Turtle Bay. There’s a no drinking or pets rule, and she prefers her roommate to be home in the evenings after 10. But it’s not like you have much of a social life anyway, right? And Joselyn lives in Rockaway. Isn’t that where Patti Smith lives? Maybe you’d be neighbors!

When it’s off, I give myself a pat on the back and do a little victory dance.As you sow, so shall you reap!

My stomach grumbles. Competition makes me hungry, and also, I haven’t eaten since lunch. With a spring in my step, I go to the kitchen, passing Adam in the living room on my way with a smug grin. I pretend to ignore him getting up to follow me and proceed to compile the ingredients for tuna fish while softly singing the chorus to “Because the Night.”

“I’m impressed you know where Patti Smith lives.”

With my back to him as I use the can opener, I say, “There’s this thing called the Internet. You used it too, remember?”

“I was trying to help. Four-fifty a month is a steal.”

I roll my eyes, though he can’t see me. “To live in someone’s bathroom.” I stop squeezing the water from the tuna and place the can in the sink. “It was a really messed-up thing to do.” I swallow down the tightness in my throat. “Mean.”

“What? Printing out roommate ads?” There’s an edge of disbelief in his voice.

I turn around. “Yes! After pretending to be all nice after what happened with my phone bill.” I lift my chin and work on keeping my face a blank canvas so as not to betray that he hurt my feelings.This competition was my idea. It’s not personal, so why does it feel like it is?

His eyes go soft. “I wasn’t pretending. It was in the spirit of the battle! All’s fair in…” He swallows. “Real estate.”

I cross my arms over my chest. “The battle was supposed to be to prove who was a better roommate for Marcia, not play mind games with each other!”

He leans against the island. “I’m playing by your rules, Sabrina. And you said thereweren’tany rules in the competition aside from my grams not getting hurt.”

“Why would I get hurt?”

As my heart leaps to my throat, I lock eyes with Adam. At the same time, we swing our heads and face Marcia, who’s looking between us with a wrinkled brow and holding what I recognize as the Roomster ads. “I went to your room hoping to catch up… it’s been a minute… and I saw these on your bed.” She waves the ads with sad eyes. “Are you moving out? And where’s the metaverse?”

Adam snorts.

I glare at him. I didn’t even see that one. How would that even work?

“And what’s this about a competition?” she asks.

Neither of us say anything at first, but then Adam blurts, “I told Sabrina I want to stay here and that she should move out when her lease expires but she refused, so we’re battling it out.”

I gawk at him.Seriously?Wasn’t the whole point of competing privately to hopefully come to an agreement ourselves and avoid worrying Marcia and potentially escalating her stress and blood pressure? He didn’t even attempt to sidestep the question before folding like a cheap suit. He wouldn’t last a minute in an interrogation. But now that it’s out, like a fresh comforter out of the tiny bag it comes in, wecan’t put it back in. “Based on Adam’s track record of not sticking around, I wasn’t convinced he’d thought it through and didn’t want to uproot my life only for him to change his mind in a few months. I told him if he convinced me he was serious, I’d agree to move out.” I chew my cheek. The plan sounded so much better the first time I said it out loud.

Marcia ekes out a laugh. “I don’t know if I should be pissed off or flattered. Were either of you planning to ask whatIwanted?”

Of course,nowAdam is tight-lipped. “I’m sorry for keeping it from you,” I say. “I hoped he’d prove me right and you’d never need to find out. The competition was a delay tactic.”

Adam frowns at me, looking genuinely wounded. “It was?”

I shrug.

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