Roommaid

by Sariah Wilson

When I’d opened my first paycheck, I had audibly gasped. The total net amount (after some jerk named FICA took most of my money) was for less than what I used to spend in hair maintenance every month. I didn’t know how anyone was supposed to live on such a tiny amount.

“But that won’t be a problem for you because you’re in a serious relationship,” she said in a self-satisfied tone. I was? Oh, she meant Brad. More accurately, Bradford Beauregard Branson IV. My high school sweetheart who hadn’t spoken to me since my parents had cut me off.

When he said my name, every nerve ending inside me sparked to life. The picture also hadn’t prepared me for how good he smelled. With all my senses in overload, I briefly wondered what would happen when I touched him. I reached for his proffered hand, and when my hand made contact with his, those same nerve endings exploded into roaring fireworks. My knees might have buckled slightly.

According to my mother, Frederica had made a play for my father, who had instead chosen to marry my mom. Then it was love at first sight when my aunt met Thurston Cottonwood, a man forty years her senior. (My father liked to say it was love at first sight of Thurston’s medical history.) He had a heart condition, more money than even the Bransons, and Frederica expected him to not last long. Good old Uncle Thurston was now in his nineties, and thanks to his ironclad prenup, when he traded Frederica in for a new twenty-four-year-old model, she walked away with only $1 million. Which she blew through in the first six months. The prospect of poverty had awoken a savvy and determined businesswoman. She’d become a real estate agent to the wealthy in an attempt to keep something of her former lifestyle intact.

If I go in there, then I’m saying I agree to it. That I’ll end up being my mother and the things I want for myself don’t matter and I’ll never make my own decisions ever again. That I’ll marry the boy they picked out for me and spend my days at the country club and lunching with the other bored housewives. I’ll be saying that I accept it, and I’m not sure I can accept it.” “That sounds heavy.” “They’ve chosen everything for me. Including the two majors I’m allowed to decide between.”

“Decoys. They’ve never forgotten that they used to be worshipped as gods. You’ll never see dogs planning on destroying humankind. Which is one of the reasons I adopted Pigeon.” “She won’t eat your face?” He smiled. “I’m pretty sure she’s not plotting my demise. And it’s nice to love somebody who doesn’t want anything in return.”

“When I love something, I don’t do it halfway.” That made my heart twist painfully. No man had ever loved me the way he loved this dog.

I felt the zing of his touch everywhere. “Wait a second. We should exchange phone numbers. Just in case you need to get in touch with me.” “Right. Good idea.” I handed him my phone, hoping he didn’t notice how my hands shook. I also tried to quiet my inner fourteen-year-old self, who was giddily jumping up and down at the idea that I had his phone number.

Then, as if in direct response to my anxiety, Vanessa said, “So are we not going to talk about the black sheep in the room?” I knew what the “right” thing to do here was. I was supposed to hang my head and feel ashamed of my choices. I wasn’t supposed to respond and should just let them humiliate me for blemishing the precious Huntington name. That didn’t really work for me anymore. “Here we go. I don’t know how I’ve managed to survive the last few months without your constant criticism.”

Coughlin appeared with an extra place setting and put it on the table next to me. What was happening?

“Constance! So good to see you. Ronald, how are you, sir?” As my mother stood up to greet her guest, I realized that it was so much worse than anything else I had considered. It was Brad. Here. Kissing my mother hello.

Instead, I did the unthinkable. I was rude to a guest. I stood up without excusing myself, throwing my napkin on the table. I headed toward the kitchen, the anger nipping at my heels with each step I took. How could they?

When my parents kicked me out and cut me off, he was the person I’d reached out to. He had been my boyfriend and I expected his support. His love. But he never responded to my texts, never picked up my phone calls. Until I finally understood that in addition to losing my family I’d also lost the one person who was always supposed to be on my side.

“In case you didn’t know,” I said with a shake of my head, “you are turning into Mom. And I always thought you were better than that.”

And why did I find his illegal parking adorable?

I grabbed the heavy pan he’d used off the stove and put it in the dishwasher. I knew I was supposed to add soap. Shay had a powder she’d pour into the little drawer. I didn’t see any powder. Just something called Dawn that was blue. It said dishwashing liquid on the front of the bottle. This must have been the brand that Tyler used. I wasn’t sure how much to put in, so I filled the slot full, closed it, and pushed start.

Massive white bubbles covered the entire floor, growing into a mountain that was already countertop height.

From what Tyler said, I thought you would be . . . attractive. It was meant to be an insult, but that meant Tyler had told her about me. And that based on his description she thought I would be attractive. And if I followed that through to its logical conclusion, that meant Tyler thought I was attractive.

A girl could get used to a guy who made her feel like she could take over the world.

The secret is to have some knowledge to operate from and then get them talking about themselves. Which makes them like you more because you’re letting them do all the talking.”

Next thing I knew, I was being enveloped in a warm, giant hug. It was like coming in from the cold to a roaring fire and a mug of hot cocoa. I leaned into him, wrapping my arms around his waist, letting him press me firm against him. His hand ran up and down my back. “It’s okay. Everything is okay.” I believed him. I couldn’t remember the last time I’d felt so safe. Protected. I didn’t trust many people but right here? Right now? I trusted Tyler. As my breathing calmed, I realized that I’d been so scatterbrained that I hadn’t even registered the fact that Tyler must have been getting ready for bed, as he wasn’t wearing a shirt. It certainly registered now as my hands curled against his strong back, the side of my face pressed against his warm chest. I turned my head slightly and my lips were now touching his skin and it was almost like I was kissing him. Almost.

Where I’d been oblivious only a few seconds ago, now I was painfully aware of how smooth his skin was, of the sexy way his back muscles strained against my palms as he continued to move his right hand up and down my back to console me. Since he was just being nice, I probably shouldn’t have been finding all this super hot. I was either extraordinarily lucky or desperately pathetic. I pulled in a deep whiff of his naturally attractive and enticing scent. His particular brand of pheromone would a hundred percent make me fly to my death by getting caught in his web. I was definitely leaning toward pathetic. Which made me feel like I had to justify my behavior.

My breath caught and then sped up. My head started to swim, making me a little dizzy. Which was the only way to explain what I saw next—it looked like he was checking me out, his gaze hot as one side of his mouth lifted, as if he liked what he saw. Which reminded me of how little clothing I was actually wearing. Was he breathing a little harder, too? And whose heartbeat felt so fast—mine or his? “Madison . . .”

I showed the menu to Tyler, who read it over my shoulder. I could feel the heat from his chest next to my neck, making my skin tingle. He braced his arm on the table as he read it and the screen in front of me started to swirl and swim, so that I couldn’t focus. I noticed that he had such strong, nicely formed forearms. I sighed. I was truly pathetic.

“You should let me chip in on, like, apartment groceries. I don’t want to be someone else you have to take care of.” “Maybe I don’t mind taking care of you.” My pulse quickened, but his back was to me, and I couldn’t see his face. His voice had a weird tone to it and I didn’t know what to make of it. It felt important, though. But I was too afraid to make a fool of myself by asking him what he meant.

“If you’re feeling desperate,” Shay added, “that guy over there kind of looks like Brad. You should hook up with him and then dump him. It’ll help your ego.” It took me a moment to realize that the man didn’t just look like Brad. He was Brad.

By making me feel like I was never good enough for him, he had ensured that I spent all my time trying to change his mind.

Loud music was playing and Tyler was gleefully dancing around the room with Pigeon yipping at his heels and bouncing along with him. He was so adorable. I drank in the sight of him and his happiness. It was like a soothing balm for my soul.

He grabbed my hand and spun me around, then unexpectedly circled me back into his arms so that I crashed against his chest. My body hummed with awareness, my skin heated in response to being pressed flush against him.

Then he smiled and moved toward me, like he was underwater or going in slow motion. It took me a second to realize that he was doing it so that I could say no. He confirmed this when his lips hovered above mine. “Are you sure?” Every cell in my body hummed with anticipation and desire. “Yes.” Then his lips were against mine, softly, sweetly, a featherlight touch. The kind of kiss you imagine when you’re a tween dreaming about your first kiss. He’d obviously intended for it to be sweet and gentle. Which meant that it should have made me feel dreamy and nostalgic and swoony. It did none of those things. From the moment his lips touched mine, it was like someone had plugged my mouth into an electrical socket. A surge zipped through me, giving me goose bumps and heating my blood. It lasted for only a few seconds but it almost zapped my ability to hold myself upright.

The look in his intense blue eyes made the air around me feel charged with energy, like lightning could strike us both then and there.

Now both of his hands were on the side of my face, guiding my head this way and that as he kissed me over and over again.

sense of urgency crept in and I didn’t know whether he was the cause of it, or if I was.

The sensation of him wrapping his arms around me, holding me tight, made me sigh with pleasure, every part of my body tingling in response. The sound I made did something to him, as if the electricity passed through me and traveled into him, and he groaned against my mouth, deepening the kiss.

“No. I know. I love you, too. But you don’t understand. I have to marry him . . . You know I don’t want to. I only want to be with you. No, Santiago, please, they will disown me and—” Violet was walking back and forth, talking into her phone, her free arm wrapped around her waist as if she were trying to hold herself together.

And initially I couldn’t tell if it was him or if it was me, but eventually I came to understand that the thing that had changed was me. I didn’t want to be just his friend. I definitely didn’t want to be just his roommaid. I wanted more than a crush. More than this unrequited limbo I was currently living in. I wanted to be with him, to be his partner and his girlfriend, for him to love me the way that I loved him.

But just as I got my hand on the bottle, Pigeon chose that moment to nudge my arm and everything seemed to happen in slow motion. The bleach bottle tipped forward; I gasped and tried to grab it, but it slipped through my fingers. The bleach splashed all over the back cushion, as well as the one I’d been trying to clean.

Or maybe I could sell something of mine. But even if I combined everything I owned, it still wouldn’t be enough. Except . . . Even though it made me heartsick, I knew there was only one way. I went into my closet. First I changed my shirt, putting the bloody/bleached one into my trash. Then I grabbed my Birkin bag. I closed the closet door and sank onto the floor, holding it. I would have to sell the bag. I’d been so desperate to move beyond my past, to give up everything that had to do with my parents. Maybe this was some kind of cosmic reminder that I had to let it all go.

Then he pulled my arm up until he was hugging me. This felt so good, so right. I knew he was only being friendly, but this was where I wanted to be. In his arms. He felt like home. Not the horrible one I’d grown up in, but the one I’d always imagined for myself, where I would be safe, loved, and happy.

“You do contribute,” he said, his voice sounding low and serious. “In more ways than you know.”

It’s hard to remember a time when you weren’t part of my life, and even though we came together under some unusual circumstances, I’m really grateful for you.”

Although I should have learned my lesson by now about being distracted, I somehow managed to get out of my car and lock it shut, leaving my keys in the ignition. With all the poms inside.

Delia came up behind us. “What’s going on?” “Madison’s keys locked her out of the car.” This caused Delia to reach inside her big bag and pull out a long rectangular piece of metal. “I’ve got this.” She had the door unlocked in less than half a minute. Shay and I just gaped at her. “What?” she asked. “How do you know how to do that?” At the same time Shay said, “It’s always the quiet ones.”

While she had specifically referenced Tyler, I kind of wanted to work my way up to it. “My mom summoned me. And I told her not to do it anymore and I wasn’t ever getting back together with Brad. She threatened me.” And I’d been expecting her wrath to fall down on me in some way ever since. I wasn’t sure whether the silence meant that she’d backed off, or if she just hadn’t come up with a good enough way to punish me yet.

when I noticed rustling whispers and murmurs. I turned to see what the commotion was about. It was about Tyler. Who walked into the gym wearing a tool belt, holding a ladder with one hand and a drill in the other. Shay gasped. “I don’t know what he’s here to fix, but mine just broke.”

“Please close the door and have a seat.” This time she wasn’t distracted. She was looking straight at me and I felt a little like how a mouse must feel just before a snake pounced and swallowed it whole. I did as she asked and sank slowly into the chair. Her expression was so serious, so intense, that I knew this had to be bad news. She pushed a stapled pile of papers toward me. “I would like to offer you a two-year contract, which is standard for what we extend to our first-year teachers.” “You want to offer me a contract? Now?”

“Because if you sign it now you would have incredible leverage in case someone tried to dismiss you.” But wasn’t she the only person who could dismiss me? And why would she fire me if she was offering me a contract first? I tried to ask as much when she announced, “You are an excellent teacher and Millstone Academy will be lucky to have you stay on. I also will not let someone else try to dictate what hiring decisions I can and cannot make. You came highly recommended and I see that trust was not misplaced.” My mother. My mother was trying to get me fired. This was how she was going to make me regret walking out on her. By taking away a job that I loved and was good at. Just to punish me. I leaned over and grabbed one of Ms. Gladwell’s pens, and I signed the contract. Even if it might have some clause about forfeiting my eternal soul, I didn’t care. It was gratifying to know the headmistress was on my side and that I had just made myself safe from my mother’s attack.

He nodded toward the quartet. “It seems to me that you still owe me a dance. Are newly hired teachers allowed to dance?” “That depends. Are roommates allowed to ask?” “I say yes.” Then we were swaying gently to the music, even though I could feel almost every gaze in the room on us because the event hadn’t even started yet and we were the only ones dancing. I didn’t care who looked.

There was fear and despair in his eyes. I’d never seen Pigeon act this way, and apparently, neither had he. “We have to take her to an animal hospital,” he said. “Can you drive?”

“Thank you!” I said, nearly ready to burst into tears I was so relieved. “You can come pick her up in the morning,” the nurse said. Tyler echoed my thank-you, said goodbye, and then dropped the phone on the counter. “Isn’t that so great?” I asked. “I knew she was going to be okay!” He didn’t answer. Instead, the next thing I knew, he had pulled me into his arms. And then he was kissing me.