The Roommate by Carla Krae

Author:Carla Krae [Krae, Carla]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Willowick Publishing
Published: 2016-04-19T04:00:00+00:00

Chapter Eight

The morning was a reset. Dark clouds had come in overnight, but it still might not rain. Patrick made breakfast (omelets). I’d slept in, so he got up from watching the morning news to cook for me. Guess I hadn’t alienated him too badly.

“Thanks.”

“You’re welcome.”

Huddled in my fluffy robe, I focused on my food. He went in his room for a while. I changed the channel. Hoped he’d leave me alone.

He came back out with his bicycle. “I’m going to run some errands.”

“Okay.”

“Are you feeling alright?”

I’d usually gotten dressed by now in his experience. “Maybe I’m getting a cold or something.”

“Ah. Feel better, Jess.” He rolled the bike to the door.

“Yeah.”

The only thing sick was my heart. Or my head. Whatever part of me it was that couldn’t stop wanting more from Patrick than being a good roommate. It felt desperate, needy…at least I hadn’t turned full-on stalker, yet.

I needed a life. No more pining!

With that resolve, I dressed and left the apartment. Maybe not the best day to seek fresh air, but at least I was out of my pajamas and outside. Wandered until I ended up in Griffith Park. Even on a day like this, one could still enjoy the view.

The breeze was cold on the hills. The air smelled damp. Probably would rain in parts, after all. Shivering in a long-sleeved tee, I headed home.

He was still out. Silly boy was risking getting soaked. I changed into a thick old sweater, sweatpants, and Uggs, and cranked up the heater. Put in a favorite movie and cuddled the fuzzy decorative pillow on the sofa. My roommate came home ten minutes later a little damp.

He handed me a bag. “Egg flower soup.”

“Thanks.”

“Next best thing to chicken noodle.” He went about putting his things away and drying off the bike.

Damn his sweetness. Every time he did something unexpected and nice, the teenage girl inside me chanted he likes me, he likes me! Remember being young enough to think every boy that was pleasant around you might like-like you? That. Especially if they were cute. Too young and hormonal to tell the difference between friendship and a crush. That was my stupid heart right now.

Patrick went in his room and didn’t come right back out, so he was probably on the computer, doing whatever it was nerds did.

You need to make plans, Jess. Be home less. Meet new people. Get over him!

At work the next day, I asked Lydia for advice.

“How do I stop feeling like this?”

“Time.”

“No, seriously.”

“Okay, it might help if you focus on his flaws. Look for anything that annoys you, bugs you, turns you off. Make him unattractive in your head.”

“Tall order. The only thing that really bugs me is he’s so reserved. Otherwise, he’s pretty much perfect.” I groaned. “And the reserved thing just makes me want to reach the gooey center.”

“You need to twist that. Instead of it being intriguing and mysterious or whatever, think of how you’d never know what he was feeling. No PDA.

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