Page 3 of Pucking My Grumpy Roommate
Angel’s laugh was loud enough that I had to pull the phone away from my ear. “Kate Ellis, you once dated a guy for three weeks before realizing he was only hanging around for free Wi-Fi.”
“That was one time. Look, I’ll FaceTime you during the viewing. Stone says it’ll be quick—just signing papers and getting keys.”
“Fine, but I want a live video tour, and if anything seems sketchy, you bail immediately.” Angel’s voice turned serious.
“Cross my heart and hope to—wait, that’s morbid for a scientist. I promise on the periodic table, okay?”
“Good enough. Now go find a hotel for tonight. There has to be something.”
After we hung up, I managed to book the last available room at an overpriced airport hotel, trudged back out into the snow, and flagged down another taxi. The driver wasmercifully silent as I huddled in the backseat, watching the white city blur past through fogged windows.
The hotel room was bland but warm, with a bed. After a lukewarm shower that failed to fully thaw me, I ordered room service, changed into flannel pajamas, and spread my research notes across the bed.
I should have been reviewing my fellowship project, but instead found myself constantly checking my phone, rereading the messages from this mysterious Stone person.
The place is available through March if you need it. Owner’s a teammate who’s recovering elsewhere. Furnished, all utilities set up. Just need someone reliable.
A teammate? Maybe he was on a sports team at the university. The hockey connection would explain the timing.
My phone buzzed with a text from Angel.
You should go explore the city tonight! Meet some non-bacterial life forms for once.
I snorted.
In a blizzard? No thanks. Besides, I have work to review.
All work and no play makes Kate a dull microbiologist. This is your chance for a fresh start! New city, new you! Take a risk!
I stared at her message. Angel had always believed in me. I texted back
Maybe I will.
an unexpected boldness surfacing as I reached for the complimentary wine the hotel had provided.
One glass later, that boldness had morphed into something else entirely. I scrolled through my contacts, stopping at Jacob’s name. We’d gone on a few dates during grad school—nothing serious, but there had been definite chemistry before he moved to Boston for a research position.
The wine whispered that texting him would be perfectly reasonable. Just a friendly check-in that might turn into something more.
I took another sip and began typing.
We’d parted on good terms—career-focused scientists understanding the reality of long-distance relationships.
I set my wineglass down.
Before I could second-guess myself, I typed in Jacob’s number from memory. I may have deleted his contact after our brief relationship ended, but my scientist’s brain never forgot a sequence of digits—whether it was chemical formulas or phone numbers.
Hey stranger. Remember that time in the supply closet when you showed me your...big talents? Minneapolis is freezing, but I’ve got some ideas for generating heat that would make even these winter nights feel like midsummer..
The message whooshed away into the digital ether. I giggled, shocked at my own forwardness. The wine was definitely doing its job. I’d never sent anything like this before. I tossed my phone face-down on the bed, my heart racing.
“Oh my god, I can’t believe I just did that,” I whispered to theempty hotel room, a mixture of horror and exhilaration washing over me.
I grabbed my phone again, half-expecting an immediate response, but the screen remained stubbornly notification-free. Of course—it was late, and Jacob was probably asleep or working. Or maybe this was too out of character, and he’d think someone had stolen my phone.
My phone pinged, and I nearly fell off the bed lunging for it.
But it was just Angel again.
