Page 31 of Dear Roomie
Maybe this drink will be enough to put thoughts of Morgan and the inappropriate way my body reacts to his out of my mind. It’s wishful thinking, but knowing that doesn’t stop me from finishing the glass in one long swallow. I’m going to need the liquid courage if I’m going to face him again.
I turn around and recoil; Karis is right behind me, far too close for comfort. The bottle of cheap beer nearly slips from my fingertips as I startle.When did she even get there?
She doesn’t seem fazed, opting to stare at me with her head cocked and that wide, toothy grin that makes my spine tingle. “You know, Morgan said you were a bitch, but I don’t see it.”
I’m sorry, what did she just say?
It takes another second for the words to fully register. She just called me a bitch—well, no, she said I wasn’t a bitch.Morgancalled me a bitch. He talked to his friends about me, and it wasn’t good. My heart plummets. I’m not sure if I’m more upset that he called me a bitch or that he thought it.
I know I was a bit difficult, but I don’t think I was that bad, was I? Our past interactions run through my head like a slideshow, and I cringe. Maybe I do owe him an apology.
I mumble meaningless sounds in acknowledgment and move past the impish woman. The sight of Evelyn cozied up against my roommate’s side rips the air out of my lungs. My fingers clench the bottle in my hand as she moves her hand along his bicep and leans to whisper in his ear. I have no right to be jealous, but that doesn’t change the fact that I am.
He isn’t mine, and he never can be.
I have Tanner, I love Tanner, and I need to stop thinking about myroommatethis way.
I block out the aching in my chest and join Chelsea and Nathan. Evelyn deserves this; Morgan is a really great guy, and they will probably be very happy together. This is a good thing. Plus, he will be even more off-limits if he’s dating someone else, and maybe then this stupid crush will die. His gaze finds mine, and I give him an encouraging thumbs-up and take a sip of the beer that was supposed to be his.
For the rest of the evening, I hang back with Nathan and Chelsea. Karis comes back over and spends most of the night bickering with her friend. It’s a near-constant back-and-forth of threats, insults, and swear words. Despite the words flying from their lips, this seems to be fun for the two of them. Mr. Scary Bartender—Gage, as Karis tells me—joins in on their antics in the brief moments he can escape the stream of customers. It’s the first time I’ve seen something that even resembles a smile on his face. The trio mostly ignores me, but every time Gage comes over, he brings me a drink too.
Evelyn and Morgan rejoin the group after playing through several of the worst games of pool I’ve ever witnessed. Morgan slips out of Evelyn’s hold on his arm but hovers near her.
“Do you guys want to come to the game with us next weekend?” Chelsea asks.
“I’m in,” Nathan says, then plants a kiss on the top of her head. “Sounds like fun.”
I cast a glance toward Morgan as excitement bubbles in my chest. Georgia football is one of my favorite things, and it’s the perfect opportunity to push him and Evelyn closer together. The excitement has absolutely nothing to do with how I’ll get to spend more time with him too. His eyes meet mine, and he studies them for a moment before responding.
“I’ve never been to a football game. As long as you don’t mind explaining things to me along the way, I would love to go.”
“Absolutely. We are going to have so much fun.” Evelyn wraps her arms around him in a giddy hug. He reacts with a stiff one-armed side hug, but his attention is still on me. I give him a small nod and a smile, and he flashes one right back.
We stay at Cutter’s until last call and are eventually forced out into the cool night air.
“Let me walk you home,” Morgan says. “It will be awkward if you don’t. People will think I’m stalking you or something.”
His joke is terrible, but I don’t put up any fight. We walk together in silence, but Karis’s words from earlier buzz around in my head.
“Do you really think I’m a bitch?” I ask as we get about halfway back to the apartment, and he freezes with his mouth agape.
“What? No. Why would you think that?” His hand takes that all-too-familiar path through his hair.
“Karis said you did.”
“She saidwhat?” His voice takes on a hard edge I’ve never heard before. “You aren’t a bitch, James. I never thought you were.” He says it with such fervor, I’m incapable of doing anything but believe him.
“But I did act like one,” I tell him, “I’m sorry.”
“No, I’m sorry. I clearly said something that put that impression in her head, and that was a mistake. I’ll talk to her about it.”
“It’s fine…as long as you don’t think I’m a bitch now.”
“I think you are pretty great.” Pink stains his cheeks at the confession.
“Good.” I resume walking, and he falls in step beside me. We don’t say anything else as we finish walking home.
As soon as I’m alone in my room, I remember exactly what drove me to go out in the first place. My gut hardens with dread as I pull my phone out and turn it back on. The screen brightens with life, and a notification pops up with a chirp.
