The Cuddle Clause

by Roxie Ray

“Three flights up. No elevator,” I grumbled, trying to keep it light. “You really like to weed out the weak, huh?” “If they can’t carry emotional baggage and literal baggage,” he said, glancing over his shoulder with a grin, “they’re not roommate material.” “Good thing I have suitcases full of both,” I muttered as I unlocked the car.

Conflict Resolution Clause: In case of disagreement, both parties agree to: Rock-paper-scissors duel Mediation via passive-aggressive sticky notes Or, if necessary, forced eye contact and a very long, awkward hug

Emotional Decompression Clause: If Roman spends a full day in a crowd, post-event recovery includes two hours of blanket-cocoon time.

If I had to fake-date someone, at least it was someone with excellent arms and a body that looked like it could bench-press my trauma.

“You better turn around. They like to hide in crevices.” She took a step forward. “And don’t you go getting shy on me. You think Lyme disease is sexy? ’Cause it’s not.”

Do something to remind your brain that you’re still alive.”