The Temporary Roomie by Sarah Adams
“Oh, hey girl!” I tell Lucy when she hops in the passenger seat of my car. “You look adorable in your sparkly little cocktail dress!”
Her bright blue eyes beam over at me. “Thanks! Oh my gosh, I’m so excited you want to go out tonight. I have needed a girls night for so long.”
“Yeah, you have! And you deserve it.” I sound like a valley girl in an old 90s movie, but I’m not sorry.
She clicks her seatbelt in the latch and swivels to look at me as I put the car in drive. “So where are we going? Dinner? Dancing?” She shimmies her shoulders, and knowing what I do about Lucy, I bet she regrets it instantly.
“Oh my gosh, better!” I say, wagging my eyebrows.
“Where?!”
“Get this: we are going to enjoy a nice relaxing evening of finishing off a fabulous bag of Twizzlers while sitting outside Bask.”
Her head tilts in suspicion. She’s onto me. “Isn’t that the place Drew is taking his date tonight?”
I morph my face into innocent shock. “What? Is it? I had no clue.” But really, I had no clue Drew would tell Lucy about his plans. It’s inconvenient they are so close.
I glance at Lucy in time to see her shoulders drop and arms cross. “We’re going to spy on my brother, aren’t we?”
“Noooo,” I say, like that thought never crossed my mind and I love sitting outside restaurants while I eat stale candy just for fun.
“We are.” She flops back against the seat and pouts. It’s all drama with this one. “I can’t believe you let me get all dolled up and made me believe we were doing something fun tonight, when really I have to stare at my ugly brother through a restaurant window!”
I scoff. “Okay, well, you’re totally wrong. He’s not ugly.” I glance sideways and find her burning a hole through my face.
“Last I heard, you weren’t attracted to him in that way.”
“What a little loose-lipped pouty-pouterson! Can he not keep anything to himself?” I say, deeply put out by him divulging our conversation to Lucy. How much of it did he tell her? Did he mention that all the pranks were really just him flirting? Or that he likes me? I still can’t wrap my mind around it. Drew. DREW MARSHALL LIKES ME. At least, he did before I kicked him in the metaphorical groin and ran away. What can I say, though? He’s not in the plan. Drew was never supposed to happen. He was supposed to hate me, and I’d hate him in return. No grand feelings, no recklessness. And definitely NO new relationships with a baby coming shortly.
“Okay, that’s it—turn around and take me home. I didn’t sign up for this.” I hit the child locks and gun it. She gasps in outrage. “Are you seriously holding me hostage right now?!”
“I’m really doing this for you.”
“How do you figure?”
Alright, she’s got me there. This has absolutely no positive outcomes for her. “Fiiinnne. I just don’t want to go alone, okay? Please go with me.” Lucy can’t say no to me (or really anyone). It’s her biggest failing in life, and I’m milking it now.
“Ooo, here’s an idea: you don’t have to go alone because YOU DON’T HAVE TO GO AT ALL.”
“OW!” I wiggle my knuckle against my ear. “I think you burst my eardrum.”
She rolls her eyes, not looking regretful at all that I’ll have to wear a hearing aid from now on. “Why do you care anyway? It’s not as if you like Drew.” She pauses and whips her head to me, auburn locks flying dramatically around her. “Or do you?!”
I grimace and pretend to gag like Ew, Drew? Hate him, grossest human I’ve ever met. “Absolutely not. I just think he’s lying and not really on a date tonight. I want to catch him.” Because who could find a date that fast anyway? And do women really write their names on the sides of to-go coffee cups outside of the movies? I think not, your honor.
I have had plenty of time to think about it the last two days since I first overheard Drew setting up this little “date”, and I’m almost positive it’s a sham. He got his pride hurt so he wanted to rub his ability to pick up women in my face. A little salt in the old wound trick. Well, HA!—I’m onto you, Drew. And I’m about to catch you in the saddest solo dinner date ever. Maybe he won’t even be here. Maybe he’s sitting on a bench by the lake, throwing bread to ducks while melancholy music plays in his earbuds. One can only hope.
Lucy gripes and complains at me all the way to the restaurant, but I mostly tune her out because I’m on a mission and won’t be deterred. Once we pull up at the restaurant, a valet comes to my door and opens it, revealing the plush taco print robe I didn’t bother changing out of. “Oh, no! Sorry! We’re not valet parking. We’re just waiting here for a friend.”
He’s judgy as he takes in my outfit. “This is a valet-only zone, ma’am. You can’t park here.”
“So sorry. I’ll move!” I shut the door and drive the car forward about four and a half feet.
Pesky valet knocks on my window, shaking his head. “Not here either. You’re going to have to pull around to the parking lot.”
The parking lot?! But that’s at the back of the building. I’ll never be able to see in the windows that way. How am I supposed to stalk someone without being able to see through a window?
Lucy’s bottom lip juts out. “Oh poo, I guess your plan is foiled and we have to go home.” She mock snaps like it’s bumming her out.
I point a stern finger at Lucy. “That’s enough sass from you.”
Doing as I’m told, I pull around the parking lot and get out of the car. Lucy follows suit, her heels clicking on the pavement, a panicked expression on her face. “Wait, wait, wait—where are you going? UH, Jessie, where are you going dressed like a human taco?!”
“We are going to get a better look in that restaurant.” I can feel the giant wobbly topknot bouncing enthusiastically on the top of my head with each step.
“Oh no we are not,” Lucy says, scurrying up behind me in her flashy dress. Good for her. She never wears flashy dresses. I’m surprised Cooper shared her with me tonight. “Are you serious? I just noticed your matching burrito slippers! No one can see you like this! Take it from someone who has been caught in all manner of embarrassing situations…you don’t want this,” she says, gesturing wildly up and down my body.
“That’s the difference between us—you get caught. I do not.”
Her eyes bug out. “Rhyming, Jessie? RHYMING! This isn’t the time!”
“It’s always time for a good rhyme.”
“Jessie, stop.” Lucy tugs on my hand, pulling me to a halt. “Why are you doing this?”
“I told you, I want to catch him in the lie.” Someone is not paying close attention when someone else is talking. Not to point fingers, but…it’s Lucy.
She’s exasperated. “The real reason, please.”
I sigh and shift on my burritos. I can’t tell her the truth—she’ll tell Drew. Not because she means to divulge my feelings to him, but because she’s Lucy and can’t lie or keep a secret to save her life. Letting my eyes speak louder than my words is the only hint I’m willing to give her. So I hold her gaze and shrug my shoulders in a look of resigned defeat, the pathetic look of a person not wanting to admit the truth but who is also hopeless to hold it inside much longer. I’m a prisoner to my own fear, and that’s how it has to be right now.
“I just need to, okay? It’s important to me.”
Lucy’s brows crunch together, and her lips pull to the side. She assesses my face, thinking it over for a few seconds. Finally, she groans…loudly and with an open mouth. “Okay. Let’s do this. But please, for the love, don’t let him see us. I’m too old to be spying on my brother.”
I scoff, offended that she would even feel the need to say that. I’m wearing a taco robe and plush burritos on my feet—believe me, if there were an option where I didn’t have to be here tonight spying on Drew, I’d take it. I tried to sit home like an uninvested bystander, and it didn’t work. TV couldn’t distract me. I matched each of my socks in a flash. I ordered a luggage set off of the Home Shopping Network that I’ll never use. In the end, I had to come and see Drew on this date for myself, because apparently, I love torture.
Lucy and I sneak around the building, opting to hover on the opposite side from the judgy valet and peek through the glass. The restaurant has nearly floor-to-ceiling windows except for a three-foot-tall brick edging, so we are able to have a mostly unobstructed view of the warmly lit, expansive dining area. There’s a shiny black concrete floor and so many Edison bulb light fixtures I’ll have a filament spot burned into my eyes for the rest of the week. The tables are made of a dark oak wood, and the chairs are black tufted leather. It’s trendy, and moody, and exactly the sort of place I’d love to go on a date. Instead, I’m standing outside with my nose pressed to the glass dressed like a taco shop mascot escaped from duty.
Lucy bounces beside me. “Do you see him? Can we go yet?”
No…I don’t. I DON’T! My eyes scan around the restaurant with jubilant glee as I take note of every single patron and not a single sign of Drew in sight. “I knew it!” I fist-pump the air. My heart is exploding. This was all a ploy to make me jealous! He said he wouldn’t sit around and pine after me, but he can’t help it. He’s definitely on a bench somewhere, Sufjan Stevens playing in his ears. And now I get to gloat, dropping cryptic little comments over our bowls of cereal in the morning, making a big show of wanting to know every detail of his date. Am I mean and horrible? Yup, but fighting with Drew is the only outlet I have for the desire that builds inside me every time he’s around. It’s the only way I can let it out.
It’s going to be—wait. No.
Lucy gasps. “There he is! Walking toward that table across the room! He must have been in the bathroom…”
My heart sinks all the way down to the lettuce in my burritos as I watch him smile at the woman now sitting in front of him. She’s beautiful. Down to earth, curvy, I-rolled-right-out-of-bed-this-pretty-and-radiant sort of woman. She looks sweet. Sort of like the way Lucy looks with those wide, innocent doe eyes. I would never have pegged this woman to have scribbled her number on Drew’s coffee cup. I bet it was the only daring thing she’s ever done. Good for her. GOOD. FOR. HER.
Lucy puts her hand on my arm. “Looks like he really is on a date.”
Thank you, Captain Obvious! I’m glad I didn’t say that out loud. Lucy doesn’t deserve my wrath. It’s my own fault for not telling Drew the truth. I made my bed, and it’s time to lie in it. Alone. And cold. And manless.
“Yeah, it’s fine.”
“Fine? Your jaw is clenching so hard I’m worried for your teeth.”
I relax my face and give her a pacifying smile. “Better?”
“No. Now you look like a serial killer.”
“You’re full of compliments tonight. Let’s go, I need some Twizzlers now.”
Before we turn away, I see the woman put her hand on top of Drew’s, and I’m filled with the urge to go rip that arm from its socket. No sooner than the woman’s arm touches his skin does it look like Drew gets hit with a bolt of awareness and his eyes shift like magnets to where Lucy and I are standing. We both gasp. Lucy does what she does best and drops to the ground out of sight. I do a spin roll until my back meets the brick siding. I wish I could drop to the ground too, but I’m 8 months pregnant now so the only thing that’s dropping these days is this baby.
“Do you think he saw us?!” Lucy asks.
“Nah—we’re good.” He totally saw us. “C’mon, we better get out of here. NO, DON’T STAND UP! Army-crawl, woman!”
“Oh my gosh, if I get knee scrapes from this, I’m never forgiving you.”
We hightail it out of there, and when we pull up outside her house, I give Lucy the whole bag of Twizzlers to take inside as an apology for the one-and-a-half-centimeter-sized scrape she complained about all the way home.
When I’m alone on the couch again, I rub my hand over my belly and tell the baby what an idiot he or she has for a mother. I can’t decide what’s worse, letting myself develop feelings for an incredible man like Drew when I’m eight months pregnant or pushing him away when he showed the slightest bit of interest.
My lengthy inner monologue gets interrupted when the front door opens and Drew steps inside. I hunker down into the couch cushions and pull my blanket up to my chin like I’ve been here all night. Niiice and cozy. Would it be over the top if I snored? I’m just about to try it when I accidentally make eye contact with Drew. Ugh. I want to groan at how fantastic he looks tonight in his dark jeans and heather-grey Henley shirt pulling against his chest.
His blue eyes flare and his mouth forms a mocking smile. “Comfy?”
I make a show of snuggling in, knowing full well he saw me at the restaurant. I’ll die before I admit it though. “Sooooo comfy. Date go well?”
He toes out of his shoes. “I don’t know. Why don’t you tell me? Looked like you had a nice front-row seat.”
“I have no idea what you’re talking about.”
Drew crosses the room to where I’m lying on the couch. He plants one hand on the armrest above my head and the other on the back of the couch—trapping me. His blue eyes almost look black right now. “I saw you.”
I gulp.
“How is that possible when I’ve been here on this couch all night?” Thank God couches can’t talk.
Drew smiles slowly. “Cute taco robe by the way.” I’m covered up to my eyeballs with a blanket, so this is his way of calling the cards in my hand before I’ve even laid them on the table. His finger rises near my shoulder and leisurely flicks the blanket down an inch, revealing the collar of my adorable leisurewear. He doesn’t even drop his eyes to it, just holds my gaze with that lazy confident smile. It makes me want to disrobe him.
“Seems odd to spy on a man you have zero interest in. You sure there’s no previous statements you’d like to amend, Oscar?”
“Nope,” I say, willing myself not to look at his beautiful mouth. Two out of three buttons are undone on his Henley tee, making a small V-shaped patch of chest visible. My fingers itch to undo that last button. Ladies all across the world chant for me to do it. “Still can’t stand you,” I whisper, sounding weak and like a woman staring at a fresh stream after weeks of dehydration.
“Great.” Drew rises back up to his full impressive height and walks toward the kitchen. “Then you’ll have no problem with me taking Mia to lunch on Friday.”
“None. I hope you have a great time.” I HATE MIA, AND I HOPE SHE CHOKES ON AN OLIVE. I hate that he went out with her! I hate that he looked like he was having a good time! I hate that I feel so broken I can’t let myself love a man again. I want to be like normal women and allow myself to tumble into infatuation naturally, with no restraints, not thinking eighteen steps in advance. But life has taught me to look ahead for the potholes, to identify each and every potential arrow to my heart—and most importantly, Jonathan taught me that I’m easily leave-able.
Drew comes back into the living room, drinking water out of the Frosty the Snowman mug. It’s all he uses now, and when he’s done with it, he rinses it and puts it back up on that shelf above his door. He plops down on the end of the couch near my feet, and I pretend to be deeply offended at the prospect of sitting close to him. I scrunch my legs up as far as my belly will allow, like I can’t afford to catch his cooties.
He smirks at me, dimple popping, and reaches over to snatch the remote from my hand. “Hey! I was watching that!”
Casually, he changes the channel. “No you weren’t.” No, I wasn’t. He flips it over to some boring documentary he knows I’ll hate just to spite me. I’d try for the remote, but it’s hopeless. He’ll just hold it above his head like he always does, and I have zero agility with my belly sticking out a mile in front of me. So I just lie over here and sulk, though I’m secretly smiling to myself that Drew didn’t go back to Mia’s place after their date. In fact, I’d say it ended pretty early for a successful date. Which means it probably wasn’t a successful date.
“Why are you smiling like the Grinch over there?”
I clamp down on my lips and shake my head in a No reason look.
He hums his suspicion and reaches over to pull my blanket down an inch to cover the portion of my toes that was hanging out and cold.
