Page 64 of Dear Roomie
“No, that was actually pretty great,” I tell her.
“Great enough that you’d want to come with me again tomorrow?”
“I would love to, Evelyn.”
Chapter 24
James
Everything aches—my knees, my arms, my back. Hell, even my head as the scent of bleach burns my nostrils. But I don’t let that stop me as I continue to scrub the linoleum floors, moving in time to the music blasting through the apartment. Morganshouldbe doing the same in the bathroom. I should probably go check on him, just to be safe. We need this place spotless.
With the floors finished, I move to clean the stovetop and catch a glimpse of the time.Shit.People should be showing up in half an hour. While I was driving back from Grandma Anne’s I had the realization that while I couldn’t help him go home for the holidays, I could make sure he got to celebrate them with people who loved him, even if the timing was a little off. I just didn’t realize how muchwork would need to go into getting the apartment ready to host what Nathan has dubbed “Friendsgivmas.” Morgan insists the place is fine but didn’t put up much of a fight when I sent him to deep clean the bathroom this morning.
The sound of bare feet padding across the floor catches my attention, and I pause mid-wipe to turn toward the hallway.
“Morgan Hall, don’t you dare step on these floors that I just cleaned. They’re still wet,” I chastise. He freezes with a sheepish look on his face, his foot hovering centimeters over the glossy floor.
“How am I supposed to cook if I can’t come into the kitchen?” he asks with a small smile and places his foot back down on the hallway carpet. It’s a good question, and he might have had a point if I didn’t literally just finish mopping.
“Wait until they are dry, and then you can come in.”
He rolls his eyes but doesn’t move from his spot as I make my way out of the kitchen, climbing over the counters to avoid the wet patches.
“I’m going to get ready and grade your work.” I shoot a quick wink in his direction as I pass. Despite my playful tone, I dip my head into the bathroom to see if I’ll need to do another pass. He did a pretty decent job, but I still do another quick wipe down of the sink and toilet to be safe.
I throw on a nicer outfit and add a quick coat of mascara to my lashes before a sweet, spicy aroma floats down the hallway, drawing me back to the living room. The sight of him cooking on my freshly cleaned stove sets my spine on edge. I knew he would need to use it, but I hate seeing my work be ruined so soon.
A knock on the door saves me from the festering panic, and I open it to find Chelsea and Nathan, who’s holding a large aluminum pan wrapped in a layer of foil.
“Is that the bird?” Morgan calls out from behind me. He washes his hands before stepping out of the kitchen to greet our first guests, placing a hand on my shoulder as he stands behind me in the doorway, crowding my space. It takes every ounce of my willpower not to lean further into his touch.
It’s so domestic—the cooking and the cleaning and greeting our guests together at the door—but everything about it feels so right, and that scares me. I can see it in my head, a future where this is the norm. Morgan is a lawyer, and I’ve found a job that I love—something that bridges the gap between my art and what makes sense financially—and we host parties like this for our friends all year round. We stand in the doorway together, just like we are now, but he pulls me into his side, holding me close while we greet our guests, dropping quick kisses to the top of my head whenever he thinks they aren’t looking. At the end of the night, we will say our goodbyes together, and once the door closes, he pushes me up against the door and—
I shake my head to clear away the thoughts. It’s not a path I can go down, at least not yet. After winter break, I can entertain these feelings, once I’ve broken things off with Tanner. I definitely feelsomethingfor my roommate, but I haven’t let myself explore those feelings. Now that things with Tanner are as good as done, I can’t ignore my growing attraction or how right being with Morgan feels. We haven’t crossed a line, not really. I’ve toed it—have stood right against the edge—but I haven’t crossed it. I want to, though; the desire is an ache deep within my chest that has only grown stronger as time goes on.
A gentle squeeze on my shoulder pulls me out of my head, and the subject of my fantasies guides me away to let our guests through. Over the next twenty minutes, our small apartment fills with both friends and food. We fall into a natural rhythm, wordlessly communicating as one of us answers the door while the other stays behind to entertain our guests.
When the oven timer dings, I retrieve the pies while Morgan chats with Gage and Karis. The mouthwatering smell hits me full force as I open the door; the trio of pies inside are golden brown and crisped to perfection. This skill was a surprise. What other secret talents has he not shared? If I have my way, I’ll get to uncover them piece by piece.
The pies nearly slip through my fingertips as I turn and see the picturesque scene that awaits me in the living room: Morgan and Evelyn sitting side by sideon the couch, heads bent together as they talk. Dread tightens around my throat. Since when have they been close?
Every interaction I’ve seen them have replays in my head, and none of them have ever been like this. Morgan was always polite but never showed any signs of being interested in her—not the way she did him.
My friend says something that causes Morgan to throw his head back with laughter, and my teeth clench. I’m so fucking stupid. He was never into me; this fantasy I’ve built in my head is nothing more than one-sided infatuation.
“Turkey’s carved, let’s eat,” Nathan calls out from the spot he’s claimed in the kitchen.
Everyone gets up and, somehow, in the chaotic flurry of movement, manages to make their plates and find seats between the island counter and cramped table.
Throughout dinner, the seeds of my jealousy grow into an ugly, writhing mass in my chest. I seethe in my seat as I watch Morgan from where he is squished between Evelyn and Gage at the counter. He leans in close to look at something on her phone, and my eyes narrow. Did I do this? Did I put this into motion before I realized how much he would mean to me?
Fuck.
I should be happy for them. Evelyn deserves someone who will treat her right, and he will. That doesn’t change that seeing them together makes me murderous.
The rigid toe of Chelsea’s high heel stabs into my shin, and I let out a soft grunt of pain that snaps Morgan’s head in my direction. I’m surprised he was able to hear the small sound over everything else, but I wave him off with a reassuring smile, and he goes back to his conversation.
“What the fuck was that?” I hiss at Chelsea once his attention is no longer on me.
