Page 11 of Flatmates (Life in the Brohouse 3)

I scowl at Samuel’s contact.

There are hundreds of things I’d rather do than call Samuel Allen. Skydiving? Cliff jumping? Pick up litter? Clean the toilet? All those options would be better than calling Sam, who was like a brother to my father and an uncle to me. And he is definitely just as much of an asshole as my father.

I flip back to my father’s contact, wondering if I should just call him and come clean; let him know I am staying with my friends. That I still intend on taking the LSAT and going to grad school. Maybe I could just explain I need this down time for myself in order to prepare for all the stress adulthood has waiting for me after graduation.

I groan.

Knowing my father, he will never accept it.

He doesn’t care if I’m stressed, exhausted, or burnt out. He doesn’t care if I have different ideas and morals than him. No, my father doesn’t care at all about me. To him, I’m not a person. I’m just a tool to use in order to raise his status and ego. That’s the only reason why he and Mother had me. There’s no love in our family, no respect.

I could just continue with my plan; have a fun summer with Rachel and the bros, ignore my parents and pretend Alex was never here. Most likely nothing would happen. Or, Father could cut me off, disown me.

And then what?

I wouldn’t be able to stay here. We would all have to find a different apartment, a tinier one that is far away and in a shady area. Seth still wouldn’t be able to afford it. We wouldn’t be able to get a job to pay for anything since we’re on a tourist visa. We would be completely and utterly fucked.

And then what about school? What about our apartment on campus? I would have to take apart-timejob. I would most likely lose my SUV. I groan and rise from the sofa, stomping past Hunter and entering my room, slamming the door behind me.

This isn’t supposed to happen. Nevertheless, I find my fingers stabbing into my cell, dialing the number. I scowl at my window, at the Eiffel Tower mocking me in the distance. I had hoped to take Rachel there on a date. Just the two of us. A romantic candlelit dinner followed by a kiss at the top of the tower.

“Hello?” comes Samuel’s low tone on the other line.

3

HUNTER

It’s six in the morning and I twiddle my thumbs while I sit across from my computer on the bed, waiting for Dr. Forrester to answer on the other line. She said we could continue our routinely meetings over Skype. Unfortunately, with the time difference, I have to be up at the crack of dawn.

The screen fades from black to Dr. Forrester’s face and I force a smile while she pushes her ear buds into her ears. “Hello, Hunter,” she says with a smile. “How are you today?”

“Well, it’s not quite day,” I say with a small yawn. “I haven’t really done anything besides sleep so I don’t know if I have much to discuss.”

Dr. Forrester chuckles and she bobs her head up and down.“I see the jet lag has gotten to you.”

I wince.“Yeah.”

“Don’t worry, you’ll get over it soon enough. Have you had any triggers or upsets?”

I shake my head.“No. The whole gang had some champagne, but I was fine. I just stuck to water.” I sigh, lowering my gaze and picking at my fingernails. “I’m just worried I’m going to be a big bother here. Rachel has her internship. Seth is busy prepping for the marathon. Lucas has his whole writing… thing. But I have nothing.”

Dr. Forrester’s brows push together and she stares back at me with concern. “You don’t have nothing. You have your friends, your health-”

“Yeah, but I don’t have football. I don’t have a job; nothing to keep me busy or take up my time.”

Dr. Forrester shrugs.“Maybe that’s a good thing. Maybe that will open you up to new hobbies; to something you didn’t think you would enjoy.”

I purse my lips.“I don’t know, Dr. Forrester.”

She leans into the screen, her elbows resting on the table while she looks me in the eye.“The thing you should focus on is sticking to a routine, making sure that you have your friends’ support so you don’t relapse. Maybe try running with your friend or meeting this Rachel after work for coffee. Try taking a French cooking course and attempt remaking the dish at home.”

I make a face.“I don’t know if that will help. Last time I tried making more than just eggs, I nearly lit the whole kitchen on fire.”

She chuckles.“Well, at least it’s something. You should do something new. Learning something is always good for you.”

An hour later our session ends and I lean back in my chair, staring up at the ceiling while thinking about what Dr. Forrester said. I scrunch up my nose, knowing she’s right about learning something new. Problem with that is how do I go about it? Or what if I figure out in the next few days that I absolutely hate Paris? It’s not like I’m an art nerd or I love history. I don’t know anything about France other than they eat croissants.

What if I ruin Rachel’s time here?

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