Page 76 of My Roommate from Hell
“Actually,” I say, “the cookie is from the barista.”
“I have the best fake boyfriend a guy could ask for.” He takes a sip of his coffee, then watches me as I pace around the room. “It’ll die down. Today’s the worst part, I promise.”
“You sound like you’ve got experience.”
“I haven’t been in this exact situation before, but I’m starting to understand humans. For such an intelligent species, you have short attention spans. All we need is for some other piece of campus drama to happen and everyone will move on. As long as when people think of me they think of an upstanding citizen, my parents will be happy.”
A wave of disappointment washes over me. I’m only just realizing all this will slow down once we’ve convinced everyone we’re a real couple.
“By the way,” he says. “I was reading online, and I had another idea.”
“About what?”
“Things boyfriends do.”
I go still. If I had to come up with a list of things that boyfriendsdo, the list wouldn’t exactly be PG. But maybe that’s just me, so I decide to play it safe. Only now that’s in my head, the two of us crossing that line. Wanting it gone only makes the image of the two of us making out clearer.
“Apparently boyfriends share clothes,” he says.
Oh, so he’s not talking about making out. As guilty, weird, and bad as I feel about it, I haven’t been able to stop thinking about the moment he picked me up and we came close to kissing. It’s burned into my memory. The truth is I liked it, even if I don’t like that I liked it.
“They do,” I say.
I remember one couple during high school that would constantly swap outfits. I always thought it was cute, and I’m not going to lie, it did make me a little jealous. Ashley sometimes wore Jackson’s hoodies, and she always looked fantastic in them, but I was never jealous of those two. I liked them too much for that.
“We should do it, then,” he says. “Word’s out, but if we don’t act like boyfriends people will be suspicious, and I can’t tell you how much my parents hate being tricked. Our work’s not over yet.”
A chill creeps across my entire body, icy and unpleasant. I do not want to be on the bad side of the king and queen of Hell.
“I’m in,” I say.
A part of me is a little upset that this is the first time I’m sharing clothes with a partner. What I have with Zarmenus is completely fake, because if it were real, this moment could be a memory I’d cherish. But still, if we want to truly believe we’re together, then we should do this. I can part with a piece of clothing and shove aside my feelings if it gets me closer to my internship.
I get up and start to browse my closet. I tend to wear more earthy colors than he does. More patterns, too. He tends to dress simply, mostly in black, and he never wears stripes or anything too loud. What I need is a piece of clothing that will make people think of me.
I look back over my shoulder at Zarmenus, and even though this was his idea, he doesn’t seem to have much interest in going through his clothes to find something to swap with me.
I reach the back of my closet and find the perfect trade. Zarmenus doesn’t wear anything like it, so it will be extremely obvious it’s from me if he wears it anywhere. I do love it, but it’s so perfect for this particular task that I’m willing to give it away. I’m starting to find I’d do pretty much anything to get that internship.
I grab it and spin, showing him my choice.
“Nice,” he says.
It’s an olive-green button-down shirt.
“But you look so cute in that,” he says.
“Them’s the breaks.”
“I have no idea what that means.”
“I don’t either, actually.”
He sits forward and peels off his black hoodie. Underneath, he’s wearing a black tank top that pulls up to show his bare torso. He balls up the hoodie and tosses it to me. I only just come to my senses, too distracted by the stretch of skin I just saw in time to catch it.
The material has been heated by his body, so it feels like it’s fresh out of the dryer. And it smells like his cologne: cinnamon, leather, and campfire smoke.
“Are you sure?” I ask.
