The Roommate Agreement(40)

Not once had he ever told me that I’d fall for him.

And that was the problem.

That hurt more than anything else that could ever happen.

By falling for my best friend, I may have lost him.

And I didn’t quite know what to do about that.

? ? ?

I woke the next morning after Jay had left. He’d left a note on the fridge that he? ? ?’d gone to work and he’d stop by the store on the way home to get something for dinner and that I should text him if I had any ideas.

Instead of that, I packed up my laptop and notepads and hightailed it over to Brie’s. It was still early and not so hot in the day that I’d be a hot, sweaty mess when I made it to her apartment, so I walked.

The walk felt good. My cry last night had, unsurprisingly, been good for me. A weight had been lifted off my shoulders, but that didn’t mean another hadn’t replaced it.

Still, the walk helped. The smell of the sea as it crawled up the small beach and pounded against the thick bars that held up the pier swirled around me, and the gentle breeze that swept in from the sea and through my hair meant it’d be a hot mess within minutes, but I didn’t care.

Ten minutes later, I arrived at Brie’s apartment block. Jay and Sean often worked the same shift at the gym when they were there together, so unless Sean had a day off, I knew I’d be alone here.

I wasn’t ready to talk to Jay yet.

Yes, yes, this wasn’t very adult of me, I know that. But have you ever accidentally made out with someone you were living with who you weren’t in a romantic relationship with?

Exactly. Don’t judge me.

Besides—I would go home tonight. Just late. When he was asleep. And handle it tomorrow.

Not everyone is capable of handling adult situations there and then.

I was one of those people. I didn’t handle emotional confrontation well. Anger? I had that down pat. I was a feisty little shit when you pissed me off, but I liked to let my emotions out in my books and deal with it after that.

Writing was a surprisingly good way of working through your feelings. While I knew that Jay and I had to talk—hell, we had to be honest with each other, not just talk—I also didn’t know how to start that conversation just yet.

I walked up the two flights of stairs to Brie and Sean’s apartment and knocked on the door. There was no answer, so I knocked again, and there was still nothing.

Knowing Brie wouldn’t care, I pulled my spare key from my purse and let myself in. Their apartment was only slightly smaller than mine, but that was because they didn’t have an open-plan living space like I did.

Brie said she didn’t want to have the smell of burned toast in her living room, and after Jay moved in and burned his, I understood.

Brie couldn’t cook. At all. She was lucky Sean could—that was why they’d decided to live together. So Brie would exist on something other than ham sandwiches and take-out.

We were a weird little foursome.

I shut the door behind me and went into the living room. I waited for a second to make sure I was alone, and when I was sure nobody else was here, I set up on the sofa.

Minutes later, I had my headphones on, music playing, and my laptop open on my thighs. I stretched out on the sofa with my back to the door so I could look out at the ocean—Brie had sacrificed more space for an ocean view because she was a dreamer at heart.

I liked space, and besides, I had a whole three-foot of ocean view from my living room. Woot woot.

After I checked my emails, I settled down to open. I opened my word processor and hesitated before I clicked on my new client’s document. I would hate myself next week for this, but right now, I needed to work on my own book.

I needed to get this emotion out, so it was time to rip apart the lives of some fake people.

Who said fiction couldn’t mimic real life?

I skimmed the last chapter and set to work. The words flowed easily from my fingertips as I manufactured drama for my fledgling couple and tore them apart like a piece of paper.

It was therapeutic, and the more I wrote, the faster I wrote. I was in my own little world, lost to the fictional world I’d created and the hearts I’d sadistically broken.

This had meant to be a fun romantic comedy, but whatever. They could laugh later. Once they’d died a little inside.

See? Fiction was totally the same as real life.

I mean, I was a little dead inside right now.

I kept writing. I broke their hearts again with a blow-out fight where she stormed out and went to the beach to scream and cry her frustrations away. I was a little jealous I hadn’t thought to do that last night, the lucky bitch.

I sighed.

A shadow fell over my laptop, and I jerked my head up and screamed. It was only Sean, but holy hell—my heart was beating a mile a minute.

I tugged my headphones off and stared up at him. “You scared the hell out of me!”

“I’ve been here five minutes!” He laughed, moving my laptop bag so he could sit on the coffee table. “Noise-canceling headphones?”

I nodded, pausing my music. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to crash your apartment.”

“Then why are you here?”

“All right, I totally meant to. Aren’t you working today?”

“Shelby, it’s one-thirty in the afternoon. I finished at one.”

“It is?” My eyes bugged, and I checked the clock in the corner of my screen. “Well, shit. No wonder I’m hungry.”