Page 3 of The Roommate Problem
“Thanks, but I’ll be fine in here.” Not wanting her to insist, because she seemed like the kind of person who would when it came to creature comforts, he lied. “I have a sleeping bag out in my car, and I’ve camped on much worse surfaces than a carpet-covered floor.”
He had no such thing in his car, but he’d rather use his duffle as a pillow and whatever clothes he had as a blanket than sleep out in that living room. He was grateful for the place to stay, but he was paying his share. They’d have to have a talk about cleanliness if they were going to get through the next six months.
“All right.” She tilted her head, eyes narrowing as if she didn’t quite believe him. “If you’re sure?”
“I am,” he said with a quick nod.
She shrugged. “Okay, then. Why don’t I help you grab the things from your car? I’ll help you unpack, and we can chat. Get to know each other.”
He supposed that was a logical idea. Although he was beat from driving six and a half hours, he should get to know the person he’d be living with for the next six months. At the same time, a get-to-know-you session with his perky, untidy new roommate—who was not a guy, but a very attractive woman he found as engaging as he did exasperating—sounded exhausting. Still, he should try to be polite. After all, the woman had opened up her home to him, even if he was paying his share of the rent.
What in the hell had possessed Gran to think they would be suitable roommates? She was his polar opposite, the extrovert to his introvert, the Oscar to his Felix. You know, if Oscar was a smoking hot bombshell and The Odd Couple had been filled with awkward sexual tension.
“That’s okay.” He tried to get his mouth to curve into a pleasant smile, but he feared all he could achieve after tonight’s surprises was an awkward grimace. “It’s not much stuff. I can grab it.”
“Oh, I don’t mind. I’m a lot stronger than—”
The doorbell interrupted whatever she was saying. Mo’s face lit up with excitement, and August had to suck in a sharp breath at the beautiful way her eyes shone.
“Pizza’s here!” she exclaimed, running out of the room and calling over her shoulder, “You grab your stuff, and I’ll get the food. We can get to know each other over dinner.”
Perfect. Just perfect. A messy apartment, a perky roommate, and pineapple pizza, his very own personal hell.
