Page 1 of Shared by My Roommate

1

Finn

The sounds of gunfire and explosions hit me before I get the door all the way open, accompanied by the rattle of controllers and my roommate’s laugh.

I stand in the doorway with my key still in the lock and let the noise wash over me. There’s no game this weekend for the Wolves, which means Nolan has colonized our shared living room with his best friend, Sawyer. It also means there’s no path from this door to my bedroom that avoids two football players who would notice me for sure, and my face is still tacky with dried tears.

I ugly-cried on the drive back from Drew’s place, my chest hitching and the steering wheel blurring. A whole year of my life, and he ended it with a speech from a low-budget movie. It’s not you, it’s me. I just need to figure some things out. He said it sitting on the edge of his bed, the bed I’d shown up expecting to spend the night in, overnight bag on my shoulder like an idiot.

I ease the door shut behind me, turn the lock by hand so it doesn’t click, and crouch to unlace my shoes, trying to stall the inevitable. The tile is cold through my socks as I pad down the short hallway and into the living room.

Nolan is sprawled on the couch, one leg hooked over the arm, controller loose in his hands. Sawyer is next to him, his big frame taking up almost all the remaining space. His broad shoulders are hunched forward, elbows on his knees. On the screen, his character crawls through a trench. Pizza boxes are stacked on the coffee table, and the smell of grease and pepperoni reaches me a half second before they both glance over.

“Finn?” Nolan asks. “Hey. What’s up? I thought you were staying at Drew’s.”

I keep walking, avoiding eye contact. “Change of plans.”

“Change of plans,” he repeats. “At eleven on a Saturday?”

“We just… yeah. Something came up. It’s fine.”

Three more steps. Almost there. My bedroom door is in sight down the hallway, the place where I can finally fall apart in peace.

“Hey. Wait.”

The game goes quiet behind me. I stop, but I don’t turn around, because if I turn around, he’ll see my face.

“Finn.”

“It’s really fine, Nolan.”

I hear him get up, his bare feet hitting the floor, and then he’s in front of me, planted between me and my door, arms crossed over his chest. He’s in gray sweatpants and a thin white t-shirt, and he somehow still manages to look put together. His golden-brown hair is pushed back from his face, his hazel eyes fixed on me with an attention that makes my skin prickle.

“What happened?” he asks.

“Nothing.”

“Finn.”

“Nothing happened. We just changed our plans. People change plans.”

“At eleven at night.”

“Drew had something come up. Family stuff.” I’m proud of how smoothly the lie comes out. “I told him I’d just come home. It’s not a big deal.”

Nolan studies me, and there’s no way he misses my red-rimmed eyes and blotchy cheeks. I keep my chin angled down and my eyes on his collarbone, and I wait him out.

From the couch, Sawyer says, “Dude’s fine. Let him breathe, Grant.” His voice is casual, but when I flick a glance over, he’s watching me too, his blue-gray eyes narrowed a fraction. Great. Now both of them are onto me.

Nolan exhales through his nose. I brace for the follow-up, but instead he uncrosses his arms and jerks his chin toward the couch.

“Come play with us.”

“What?”

“We ordered way too much pizza. There’s a whole pepperoni with your name on it.”

The asshole knows pepperoni is my weakness, the one food I will abandon all dignity for. He’s playing dirty, and we both know it.