My Summer Roommate Read Free Page B

chicken to ask.
    He shrugs in a way that says ‘yes, it was a bitch, but I didn’t have a choice’. He doesn’t say anything out loud, though, and the room is filled with silence and heat. I feel bad for ruining the mood.
    “I hope you didn’t bring your whole house over,” Chris says, and I’m grateful for the change of topic. “As you could see last time, there’s not much space here. I’ve got a lot of crap. It’s all over the place.”
    “Just a few boxes.” I look around the room. It looks worse than last time. Even a few boxes might be a challenge. All the corners are cluttered with his stuff. There is a guitar propped against the wall next to the window where Izzy and Harper stand, looking out over at the park across the street. Several pairs of trainers are scattered in the far corner. A soccer ball, a crumpled piece of clothing resembling a sports shirt, a few books and computer cables surround the couch we sit on. There are several stacks of what looks like study materials by the fridge. They’re probably waiting to be packed into boxes. Chris’s clothes hang from every piece of furniture in the room.
    I will have a lot of work tidying it all up.
    “I know that look,” Chris says, resigned. “You’re going to make me clean it up, aren’t you?”
    “Of course.” I grin, and he grins back. It is only now that I notice how green his eyes are. Not hazel, but proper green. His crooked front tooth makes his smile the most real thing I’ve seen on a guy lately. Good thing I’m only staying for two months. But my stomach contracts with dread and wistfulness at the same time.
     
     

    Chapter Four
     
    CHRIS
     
    She looks scary with that determined look on her face as she dashes around the place, picking up things , rearranging, dusting and whatnot. I’m not generally this untidy, I swear. It’s just that with vacation starting … well, I was busy with other stuff. Cleaning should not be expected to be a priority during vacation. Besides, it’s nice watching her work. The frown that she gets from concentrating so hard is cute. I’m helping her, I am . I just take a breather from time to time to watch her.
    “Where do you want me to put these?” she asks, and turns my way, catching me staring at her. She’s dangling my soccer shoes from the tips of her fingers as if the shoes are radioactive or something. Or maybe it’s just the smell that’s bothering her.
    “Here, let me.” I grab them and stuff them into the bag where I keep—or I’m supposed to keep—my sports equipment.
    When I look up, she just stands there, watching me. Is that a hint of annoyance on her face? What did I do this time? I want to ask, but then she goes back to sorting through the stuff on the floor. Her things are still in the boxes that she and her friends brought up earlier in the morning. It’s like she doesn’t want to contaminate them with my filth and wants to wait getting them out until the place is spotless. She makes me feel like a pig. I’m beginning to sense this roommate thingy is going to be a lot harder than I thought. Still, it might be worth it. She might be worth it.
    By the time we’re done cleaning, I’m exhausted. I want pizza, a beer and a snooze on the couch.
    “Could you help me with the boxes?” she says from the stack of six boxes by the door.
    “You’re going to unpack now?”
    She looks at me like I’ve displaced my brain behind a book on a shelf somewhere . “Er, yes?”
    “Can we at least have a break? Something to eat and catch our breath?”
    “Now?” She looks around for a clock, then digs her phone out of her pocket and checks the time. “It’s barely eleven.” She says it in a ‘why the fuck would you want a break after only two hours of cleaning’ way.
    I don’t know what to do. I don’t want to look like a douche, like I want her to do all the work while I rest. But this is my place, so …
    “How about we have a drink?” she says, and smiles. All that