Page 22 of Messy Strokes (Wrecked Roommates)

Sometimes I wonder what my life would be like if I’d been the good girl. If I’d embraced my math-nerd side in middle and high school. If I’d gone to college and actually tried for once in my life. Everything would’ve turned out so differently. I’d probably still be under my parents’ thumbs, which would’ve sucked, butnottrying hasn’t exactly been a picnic.

I let his words sink in for a second as I collapse onto the barstool next to his.

“Take it from someone who threw in the towel without eventryingto be the nice girl ortryingto show up in the first place to get what she wants.Nottrying doesn’t exactly get you anywhere, either. At least when you strive for perfection, you still climb a few rungs on the ladder, ya know? If you don’t even show up, how can you expect any kind of chance to be successful and happy? Even if it’s a slim one?”

“You make a good point, Em,” he returns, though I’m not sure he believes me. “Or is it Mads?” he questions, cocking his head to one side, picking up the Liquid IV concoction again, then gulping down the whole thing.

I tuck my hair behind my ear and puff out my cheeks. “So you heard about that, huh?”

“Only through the grapevine. No one tells me shit anymore.”

I cringe at the malice in his voice. “Well, what have you heard? Maybe I can clear up a few things.”

He sets his glass down and leans on his elbows. “I heard you lied, you have a sister, and you have a kid who might’ve belonged to Gibson before finding out she’s really Milo’s.”

“You’ve heard a lot of things,” I note.

“Sure have. And now, it’s your turn to clear them up.”

“Well…” I take a long sip of my coffee, the hot liquid burning my tastebuds but only spurring me on. Anything to avoid this conversation.

He smirks, reading me like a book. “Take your time.”

With a sigh, I set the cup down. “I don’t know where to start.”

“Why were Milo and Gibson calling you Em when your sister calls you Maddie?”

“Way to dive right in, Jake.”

“No use beating around the bush.” He holds my gaze like a damn detective.

“Fine,” I huff, sitting up a little straighter. “It’s because I wanted a fresh start when I moved away from my house. I didn’t want to be Maddie or Madelyn or Mads anymore, so I went with ‘M.’ As in the letter, not the name.”

He nods. “And why’d you leave? I thought things were good between you, Milo, and Gibbs––”

“They were. I…I guess I decided I was done with the party life.”

“Why?”

I tilt my head at him and raise my brows. “You tell me. Is the party life all it’s cracked up to be? Late nights. No sleep. Headaches. Puking. Waking up not remembering the previous night? Any of this ringing any bells, Jakey Boy?”

With a subtle nod, he returns, “Maybe. Although threesomes aren’t too bad.”

I laugh. “If you’re only looking to get off, I agree.”

He eyes me curiously, his gaze narrowing as he comes to some kind of conclusion, though I have no idea what it is.

“But you weren’t looking for a reason to get off anymore, were you?” he points out.

It isn’t a question, but I shake my head anyway. “I think we’ve done enough talking––”

“You’re not allowed to pry into my life without letting me do the same. Did you try to tell him?”

“Tell him what?”

“Don’t be coy. Answer the question.”

My grip tightens around my cup of coffee, and I grit out, “Of course, I tried to tell him.”

---