“So, back to living with Tanner,” she says. “Don’t think I didn’t see what you were trying to do there. He has a room, and he’s our friend. Seems like an easy option.” She shrugs her shoulders and takes another sip of her drink.
She’s right, but I don’t want to hear it. She and our other friends haven’t left me alone about this idea for weeks, and I hate it.
I need a place to live—not a roommate. And I especially don’t needhimto be my roommate.
I like living alone. I like being able to watch what I want on TV or listen to pop music a little too loud while I clean. I like not having to talk to anyone after I’ve depleted my social battery for the day.
I bet he binge watches shows likeThe Boysand leaves his socks all over the floor.
I cringe at the thought of having to explain that I’m not his girlfriend, just the girl he lives with, over my morning coffee, to one of his random one night stands.
What a nightmare.
I might be desperate for a place to live, but I’m not that desperate.Nope. Not doing it.
“I’m not living with Tanner,” I say, firmly.
“He’s not that bad.”
I roll my eyes.Not that bad?
“We are talking about the same person, right?” I laugh. “Y’all are unbelievable if you think I’ll be going anywhere near Tanner Mitchell’s apartment.”
“Oh, my god,” Gray gasps. “Look who’s at the bar! It’s a sign.”
My eyes jump to where she’s staring. Tanner Mitchell is sitting at the bar, surrounded by no less than five women.
“A sign?”
“Yes, we’re over here talking about you living with him, and there he is.”
“No. I think we must have just said his name one too many times. Like Beetlejuice or something.”
“Oh, but he definitely doesn’t look like Beetlejuice.” She laughs and twirls her olive skewer in her drink. “I know some of his choices are questionable, but you can’t deny he’s hot. Look at that smile.”
I hate that she’s right again. He’s at least a foot taller than me, if not more. His chest and shoulders are broad. His sharp jawline is covered with blond stubble, and the top half of his blond hair is pulled into a bun on top of his head. He’s wearing khaki shorts that hit mid-thigh and a navy button up shirt that fits snuggly on his biceps.
I wish he looked like Beetlejuice. If he did, my apartment problem wouldn’t exist because I’d trust myself to live with weird-ass Beetlejuice. I don’t trust myself to live with a certified Thor look-alike. No. College Wren’s knees would’ve totally buckled and fell for his bullshit, but not twenty-four-year-old Wren. No. I know better than to get caught up with a guy like him. We might be friends with the same people, but I willnotbe living with him.
“God, would you look at him?” She laughs. “I swear he thrives on being the center of attention.”
“He’s such a flirt. Could you imagine the amount of women who probably go through his apartment on any given week.” I laugh as I watch him flirt with a blonde. “I bet he hasone of those lost and found closets full of the clothes from old hookups.”
“What are you talking about?”
“You know, like the girl comes over and leaves her jacket, so instead of returning it, he puts it in a closet, and if the next girl is cold, he offers it to her.”
“That’s not a real thing,” she argues.
“Oh, it is. My ex had one, and I would bet all my money that Tanner has one too.”
She takes another sip of her cocktail and leans back into the booth, getting comfortable.
“How do you think a guy like that is friends with Logan and Jacks? It’s strange right?” I ask.
“I’m a firm believer that every male friend group is made up of a Ross, a Chandler, and a Joey, and that checks out with them too,” she explains.
“What do you mean?”
