Page 1 of Dear Roomie
Chapter 1
Morgan
Aluminum teeth bite into my thumb and forefinger every time I twist the key through my nervous fingers. No matter how many times I’ve done it, starting over somewhere new never gets any easier, but the dull lick of pain helps distract me from the growing pool of dread in my gut.
Athens, Georgia: population 128,711, more bars per capita than any other city in America, home of the Georgia Bulldogs, and the place I’ll be spending the next three years of my life. I’ve done my research and spent hours familiarizing myself with the school’s campus and the surrounding city, but no amount of online images or Google searches can prepare you for what a new place is actually like.
My new apartment sits on a triangular lot in the middle of a five-way intersection that marks the border between the city and the university. It’s a bright building, painted with thick blocks of matte colors, contrasting with the monotony of aged red brick. That, coupled with its awkward shape, creates the illusion that it was painted directly onto the horizon. It’s got a strange charm about it that helps make approaching it feel a little less daunting, and I’ll take whatever I can get right now to not feel like I’m marching toward my doom.
Everything about this move has been a masterclass in jumping headfirst into the unknown. Who moves across the country to live with someone they’ve only interacted with through scattered text messages? Me, apparently. It isn’t like I had any other options. My flight back from Peru was less than a week ago. I onlyhad enough time to get my things out of storage and make the cross-country trip from Arizona.
I’d be lying if I said I only responded to the ad for this apartment, or that James would have been my first pick of roommate. His post was beyond vague. All it told me was where the apartment was, that they liked to keep things neat, and that they have a dog that doesn’t do well with cats. What is a man supposed to do with that? I wouldn’t have reached out if the first three ads I responded to hadn’t shut me down once they realized we couldn’t meet in person. Luck was on my side with the fourth. James was quick to reply and wasn’t immediately put off by the fact my first day in Athens would be the day I moved in. We chatted some when I had access to Wi-Fi, and within a few days, my sublease was signed. Brief messages were exchanged throughout the summer, and while my roommate is still mostly a stranger, I’m glad I had the chance to get to know him some before I moved in.
However, I wish he’d be more responsive right now.
The last message I sent—letting him know I was ten minutes out—has been left on read since it was delivered. It would be nice to know what I’m about to walk into.
The sun catches on the rhinestone on my key as I twist it through my fingers again. I’m sure James thought it was hilarious to mail me the most feminine key he could find, thinking it would embarrass me or something. Truthfully, I’m too grateful to actually have a key to be ashamed of what it looks like. Most of the guys I’ve lived with over the years wouldn’t have thought to have a new key made, let alone send me one so I would have an easier time moving in. My last roommate left me standing outside in the Arizona heat with my boxes for hours while I waited for them to let me in. I’ll take a baby-blue key with tiny jewels and decorative script reading “HOME” over that any day.
He has been an absolute godsend with this whole move. He’s been living here for a few years already and was more than willing to help me get everythingsettled remotely. I appreciate everything he has done to help, but that doesn’t make the prospect of meeting him any less intimidating.
There’s no use in delaying it, though.
I pocket my keys and load my arms up with boxes. The trunk of my hatchback slams shut before I make my way across the street and into the building. It’s not hard to find the door labeled 208, but the brightly colored welcome mat out front makes it even easier. I knock on the door with my foot and wait for several moments. It becomes clear rather quickly that James either isn’t home or isn’t going to answer. I finagle the boxes into a precarious stack in one arm and fish my keys out of my pocket to open the door.
“Hello,” I call out as I step over the threshold, but the only thing that greets me is silence.
Gravity starts to win out, pulling the tower of boxes out of my arms. I let them fall into a pile by the door and pause to take in the apartment. There’s no sign of James or his dog, which takes some of the pressure off my shoulders. It gives me time to get my bearings first.
Two things immediately stand out to me: James was one hundred percent serious when he said he likes to keep things neat, and his idea of fully furnished is more than a simple sofa and a place to eat.
The common areas are decorated like something off Pinterest or out of a home-decor magazine. It’s a decent veneer for the otherwise standard white walls and wood-grain vinyl floors. The space is divided by an island counter, which marks the transition from the living room to the kitchen.
Thingsseem to cover every surface, but in a way that makes it feel curated, not cluttered. I’m not quite sure how James pulls it off; I could have walked into HomeGoods blindfolded and gotten a near-identical assortment of art and decor, but it wouldn’t have come together to feel this homey—because it’s clear that’s what this is: someone’s home.
Framed photos are mixed in among the mass-produced prints. My curiosity gets the better of me, and I take a closer look at one of the pictures on the wall.James and his dog are standing on a mountain overlook with the sun beginning to set behind them, but what catches my attention is the woman with them. She is one of the most beautiful women I have ever seen. It’s clear she’s his girlfriend from the way she’s glued to his side and gazing at him like he hung all the stars in the sky just for her. But if James hung the stars, then his girlfriend is the sun.
Everything about that woman is wrapped in a golden aura, from her blond locks—which hang down her back in waves—to the glow of her sun-kissed skin. More than anything, I’m captivated by the radiance of her smile, which seems to light her up from the inside. The love between them shines through the image, and that alone is enough to make me stop my snooping and vow to forget these thoughts ever crossed my mind.
He sure is a lucky man.
He never mentioned having a girlfriend in any of the messages we exchanged over the summer, but it shines a new light on the whole situation. The key. The decor. All of it must be her doing.
I don’t think James is going to be my only roommate this year.
The realization sinks in my gut like a lead weight. If I had known my roommate’s girlfriend was going to be living here rent-free, I would have looked for other accommodations. I’ve dealt with it in the past and have no desire to do it again. Unfortunately, there’s nothing I can do about it now without asking James to change his whole life. It isn’t a fair ask. This is his home that he’s been living in for years, and I’m practically a stranger.
I take a deep breath and mentally prepare myself for what’s coming: a year full of witnessing PDA, moderating their fights, and hearing them make up through paper-thin walls.
Maybe they won’t be as bad as the last couple I lived with.
I cling to that hope as I pick up my things and carry them toward my bedroom. It’s easy enough to find; there’s only one hallway that extends off the back wall of the living room, with only two rooms down it. The first room is clearly meant to be mine. The door is wide open, showcasing the vast emptinesscontained between the sterile white walls. It’s basic—no frills beyond a small closet and a door that leads to the shared bathroom—but it’s mine for the next twelve months.
Chapter 2
James
Stopped for gas, but I’m about ten minutes out. Looking forward to finally meeting you.
