He might think I’m a dude.
The momentary bliss of finding a place evaporated, and nervous energy had me biting my fingernail and chewing on the skin until I tasted blood. I could send the money to at least guarantee a place for thirty days, but I needed a contract first.
Daniel,
To protect myself, I’d like a contract that can be used in court.
R
R seemed honest enough, right?
Wouldn’t even know how to write one up. We’ll figure it out tonight. I really need the help with half the rent, and I’m assuming you need a place, so it’ll be fine.
He wasn’t wrong. I did need a place, so I had to take a chance that this wasn’t totally going to blow up in my face. My knee bounced up and down as I said to hell with it. I sent him the money, closed my laptop, and packed up my bag.
Daniel was going to have a roommate for thirty days, that was for damn sure. Now I needed to move in and figure out a way to break the news to him that Ryan was very much a girl.
* * *
Before I headed over, I called Hannah and told her the address of the place so someone knew where I was, to be safe.
The old Victorian house had a wooden staircase up the back to the third floor. It creaked as I put my weight on the first tread, and I gripped the railing, more than a little afraid the structure would crash down, bringing me with it.
My arms hurt from carrying my bags, but I got to the top and reached under the plain doormat with our school’s logo to find the key.Here goes nothing.
I fumbled a few times but got the key into the handle and pushed my way inside. “Hello? Daniel?”
Nothing. Silence.
Probably better that way. Gave me time to scope the place outandmove in. It would be harder for him to kick me out if my stuff was here. The first thing I noticed was the smell.
Clean. Lemon-scented cleaner hung in the air, almost like it was masking something. Michael’s room always smelled like that, disinfectant and gross equipment. I turned on the light and made my way past the small foyer to the living room and mini kitchen. One small table with two chairs sat under a low-hanging light. A TV and large couch were the only things in the living room, and there wasn’t a single item out of place. No pillow askew, book left on a table, or cup left on the counter, half-filled with water.
“He wasn’t kidding about being clean,” I said to myself. There were two doors on the right side, one containing a pristine, wrinkle-free bed. I snorted. I could count on my hands the number of times I’d made my bed in my entire life. If this guy expected me to make mine, there would be a war.
The second bedroom was empty besides a bed and mini dresser. My new home, for at least thirty days. Might as well unpack. I blasted some Taylor Swift from my phone and got to work. I didn’t consider myself a slob, but I wasn’t on the same level as this guy. I might have dust on my shelves, but organizing made me inexplicably happy.
I lost myself in the music, dancing as I put my clothes away and struggled to put sheets on the bed. I wasn’t one to decorate walls with photos, but I did tape up the last family photo we had of Michael, me, and our parents. We wore large smiles and stood in front of our hotel in Florida. Our last family vacation.
Grief hit me, hard. My counselor had told me this could happen the rest of my life. I’d be fine, and then bam, sadness grew inside my chest and spread through my body, paralyzing me like hundred pound weights were in my shoes. I would never have my parents at my wedding. They would never see me graduate, find a career, or have children. I couldn’t call themjust because.
The thoughts got sadder, and I collapsed onto the bed, exhausted from everything. I could take a mini nap before Daniel got back. Yes, that was a good idea. I lay on my side and took three breaths before sleep came.
“Whatthe hell?”
I bolted up from the bed, a deep voice penetrating my dreamlike state.I moved. I napped. New roommate.
“Daniel?” I rubbed my hands over my eyes, the sleep burring my vision for a few seconds. Once I cleared them, I got a view of my roommate as he stood outside my door, hands on trim hips, and a dark angry scowl on a face I knew well.
Very well, in fact. It was hard to not recognize the sophomore on the hockey team when his face was plastered on billboards and his infamous scowl was a hot topic in the gossip mill.
“Your name isnotDaniel. You’re J.D.” Annoyance had my neck tingling. The severity of our situation made the weight on my chest double. My roommate was a hockey player. Shit.
“You’re not a dude,” he fired back, nostrils flaring as he huffed out an angry breath. “Is this a trick?”
“You tell me.” I got up from the bed and mirrored his battle stance. His jaw tightened as he stared me down, no doubt trying to intimidate me. He had another think coming if he thought a hockey guy could scare me. “I thoughtDanielwas someone in a pinch who needed a roommate.”
“I thoughtRyanwas a dude.” He ran a hand over his jaw, distrust and worry flashing across his face like fireworks in the heat of summer.
