My Summer Roommate by Bridie Hall Read Free Book Online Page B

hiding my nervousness behind a strained laugh.
    “Nah, I’m below the limit.”
    “You stumbled on the curb,” I point out.
    He glances at me and my anxiety spikes. He should be watching the road, not me. Thankfully, he seems to read my panic and looks ahead again.
    “That was because of the darkness, not ‘cause I’m drunk.”
    “I saw your video on YouTube,” I say because I need to talk or I’ll pull the hand break and get behind the wheel.
    “You Googled me?”
    “Technically, I YouTubed you, but yeah. It was Izzy’s idea.” I’m suddenly all defensive when I realize it was a bad idea to mention this. Time for a diversion…
    “But the point I was making was that you filmed a promo video against drunk driving.”
    Drunk or not, he looks embarrassed at my words. “You saw that? It was ages ago. And I’m not drunk. Buzzed, maybe.”
    “Hypocritical much?”
    “I’m fine, honestly.”
    I don’t say anything more but I’m still mad at him when he parks in the lot behind the building. But w hen I see him drag himself up the steps, and I notice he’s started limping, I forget about my frustration.
    “Is your knee okay? ”
    “It’s giving me grief because of the dancing and standing up for so long.”
    “You should’ve told me.” I feel responsible. I should’ve thought of his injury, but I enjoyed myself so much that I completely forgot.
    “It’s okay. I’m used to it.”
    “It’s not okay,” I protest, as he unlocks the door and goes straight to the couch. He sits down heavily and massages his knee absent-mindedly.
    “Do you want a cold compress?”
    “That’d be nice,” he says, and winces.
    Before going to the fridge, I lift his leg up onto the couch and prop it up with a pillow. “Less strain on the joint like that.”
    I bring him a frozen gel pack. I want to hand it to him, but he’s leaning back, his eyes closed, so I put it slowly on his knee.
    “Thanks .” He sighs, and then opens his eyes. He’s half asleep, probably still tipsy, but grinning.
    “Thanks,” he repeats. It’s only when he continues that I realize he’s not talking about the compress. “We should do this again soon.”
    “People are going on vacations. There won’t be many parties for the next month or two.”
    “Just us, then,” he says, and his eyes sparkle.
    Risking that I might sound an idiot, I ask, “Are you asking me out? On a date?”
    “ You sound surprised.”
    “Just hesitant,” I say. “I’m not looking for a relationship, Chris. I d on’t want you to think that I am.”
    Quite unexpectedly, he laughs. “How serious and grown up she sounds.”
    I swat his arm. “Jerk. I am serious, because I don’t want you to expect something that’s not going to happen.”
    “Why’s that?”
    “Why’s what?”
    “Why is it not going to happen?”
    “’Cause,” I say, as if it should be obvious. Because really, it should be, right? In exactly six weeks, I’ll be moving to Atlanta. I don’t know where Chris is heading to college because I haven’t managed to ask him yet. Isn’t that enough of a reason in itself? You can’t have a relationship with someone when you don’t even know where they’ll be in two months’ time.
    “ ’Cause? That’s your argument? For a future psychologist, that’s a lame-ass explanation.”
    He’s enjoying this. Way too much.
    “’Cause I only date terrible people. Bad, bad boys. You’re too nice for me,” I say, joking.
    He makes a face, not buying it for one second.
    “You want a reason? Here’s a good one—I don’t want anything to happen between us.”
    “Why not?”
    “I have my very personal reasons which I am not inclined to share with you at this moment.”
    “At a later moment perhaps, then?” He keeps looking at me with this half-smile on his face that drives me nuts because I have the impression that he’s playing with me, that he can foresee my every word and that he can prepare his response in advance. I don’t like being