Page 8 of The Roommate Situation

“Babe, this is a great place, and he’s a total sweetheart, I can tell.”

I narrow my eyes, even though I’m pretty sure he’s right, but I was dumb enough to date Zach for eight months because I thought the same about him, so what do I know? “How can you tell?”

“Vibes, babe,” he says, then fucking pats the top of my head. “And cupcakes? The guy bakes cupcakes. And that apron? Seriously. He’s like the hunky version of Martha Stewart.”

“Hey, he could have human remains in those cupcakes for all we know,” I retort, and Jackson smirks.

“Babe, I know this is a little awkward, but I really think it’s going to be fine. Maybe it will even give you a chance to explain what happened last night?”

I frown. “I can’t tell him I chickened out because my emotionally abusive ex got in my head.”

“Why not? Then at least he knows it wasn’t him.”

I sigh. “I’ll think about it.”

“Good boy,” Jackson says, patting me again. I shove his arm away and he laughs, then saunters the rest of the way down the hall. He stops at what I’m assuming would be my room, assuming also that the room with the closed door is Hot Guy’s.

It’s got a dresser already, a bed frame and mattress with nothing on it, and a closet. It’s bright and cheerful, in an off white color. Not really big but big enough, with a large window on the opposite wall.

“Okay, time to get your things, huh?” I nod, even though I’m still mortified about living with the guy who I ran away from last night in tears. I follow Jackson back out to the combined kitchen, living area where Hot Guy is taking cupcakes out of the oven and setting them on the stove. He turns to us and grins, sliding his oven mitts off.

“They’re a little hot but you guys are welcome to have one when they cool down. You’ll want to wait for the frosting, though. That’s the best part.”

I nod but don’t say anything.

“Any questions? It’s a decent place. Good neighbors. And you’ll have privacy. You’ve got your own bathroom, and I’m not picky about what’s on the tv so you can watch whatever you want. And I promise I’m not a druggie or anything. You saw everything except my room and the attached bathroom. I can show you if you want but it’s pretty messy.”

“No, that’s okay,” I tell him. I do notice the main living area is pretty clean, which I appreciate, though I don’t know if he did that just for my visit or if it’s always like this. Guess I’ll find out. I tend to get stressed in a space that is super messy so if it gets bad I may just have to stay in my room. Zach was good about keeping the place clean for the first couple of months but complained about it after that, told me I was OCD and needed to get a life, and that he had better things to do with his time, so I stopped saying anything and would just clean it myself or stay away.

Fuck, why did I not realize what a jerk he was until now? I just assumed he was right, and that I was the problem one in the relationship. Too picky, too needy, too high maintenance.

“I can help bring your things in if you want?” he offers, and Jackson nudges me. When I look at him while Hot Guy is removing his apron he makes the shape of a heart with his hands and I roll my eyes.

“I’m Parker, by the way,” Hot Guy says, and reaches out to shake Jackson’s hand and then mine. “Parker Hayes.”

“Rory,” I squeak out, and my cheeks flush as I try not to squirm. God, this is so awkward. Out of all the guys I could be rooming with it has to be him. He grins at me again and it makes me feel a tiny bit less awful.

With all three of us working it doesn’t take too long to get my things in my room, and when Jackson pulls me into a hug after Parker has returned to the kitchen, I grip him tightly. “Don’t leave me,” I whisper. “I could end up in the next batch of cupcakes.”

He chuckles and pulls back, planting a kiss on the top of my head. “You’re going to be fine, babe. I’ll call tomorrow and see how you’re doing. See you later, okay?”

I nod and hear Parker offering Jackson a cupcake to go. I groan and sit down on my unmade bed, but then start when I hear a knock, and look up.

“Sorry, little dude,” he says, and I see he has a cupcake on a small plate. “I thought you might like to have one. They’re good. I promise.”

“Thanks, but I’m not hungry,” I lie. His face falls but he recovers so quickly I barely notice it, and my chest squeezes.

“Oh, uh, I think this is yours,” he says, reaching in his pocket and pulling out something. He steps forward and shows it to me, resting on his palm. It’s one of my earplugs and I didn’t realize it was even missing until I got back to Jackson’s last night. He found it and kept it, in the off chance he would run into me?

“Thank you,” I murmur, glancing at him and taking it.

“Well, I’ll let you get unpacked,” he says. “Unless you want some help? I don’t mind.”

I swallow but shake my head. “No, thank you.”

He nods again and scurries off, and I fall back on my bed with a sigh. God, I feel like such a jerk. But there’s no way I can have him in here helping me after last night. It’s not him. I want to tell him that so badly but I’m so embarrassed and he doesn’t need to know about my whole life story just because we’re roommates. I don’t need to be dumping that on him.

I feel a tear sliding down my cheek and wipe it away. I’m tempted to call Jackson and tell him he needs to come back andget me, but I know that’s not going to work. Somehow or other I’m going to have to make the best of this situation.

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