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“Because you’re sad?”
“You know, not everything I say needs an answer.”
He nods. “Okay.”
I have to admit, he’s taking all of this well. He’s only been my roommate for about twelve hours and I’m already having a meltdown.
“It’s admirable that you take care of your sister this way, but you know you don’t have to watch me blubber overThe Notebookand gorge myself on ice cream. Thank you for this, by the way.”
“What are roomies for?”
“I don’t know,” I say honestly, voice cracking. Another tear falling over. I thought I had the best roommate. The singular best friend someone could ever ask for, but all of that was a façade too. Why does everything in life suck?
“Hey,” Zaiah says comfortingly. He slides his arm around my shoulders, and I snuggle into his chest, still scooping ice cream in between trying not to cry. “Tell me what happened. It’ll be good to talk about it.”
A few minutes ago, he was the last person I wanted to divulge my problems to…
“Come on,” he encourages. “I promise I’ll just listen. Get things off your chest.”
I swallow, setting my ice cream on my leg, my fingers cupping the cold carton. “When you left the newsroom, this girl Candice came over and asked if you were my boyfriend. She seems interested, just so you know.”
“I don’t give a flying fuck about Candice.” He squeezes my shoulders, his gaze intent. “Then what happened?”
“Well, I said no, but the worst part was, so did Clark. Except, he didn’t only say no. He went on a long spiel about how I’m basically incompatible with dating and that I put no effort into my appearance, and then berated Candice for asking because she should have a better analytical mind to observe that about me.”
“He…said that? All of that?”
I nod into his chest.
“What a dick.”
I shrug my troll shoulders. “What about it isn’t true, though? I don’t put makeup on. I don’t dress like I’m trying to impress people. I’m really only trying to be a reporter because that’s the one thing I want most in this whole world… I thought he would respect that.”
“He shouldn’t have said anything about your appearance. He’s a douchebag.”
“But he’s such a cute douchebag. We have the same interests. If he wouldseeme.”
“I knew it,” he remarks. “You like him. But listen, I’m not sure this dickh—”
I bolt upright. “You could help me.”
“What?”
Excitement peaks when the plan starts to unfold in my head, and I smile. How many times have I thought that whatever Zaiah does is so effortless? I want that. I want attention without even trying. I want charm to ooze out of my pores. “What if you showed me how to get Clark to notice me?”
“Len, he doesn’t—”
My eyes round as I come up with the perfect bartering token. “I’ll write an article about your hockey team. I’ll make sure they publish it.”
He sits up straight. “You’re serious about this?”
I nod enthusiastically. Strictly speaking, this is the best idea I’ve ever had. Look at Zaiah. He’s perfect. If he teaches me one ounce of the charisma he holds, Clark won’t be able to look away from me.
He sighs, running a hand through his floppy hair. “Despite this working out in my favor, I feel I should tell you that thisasshole isn’t the one you should be seeking attention from. He sounds like a jerk, Len.”
My mind automatically refutes that. Clark isn’t an ass. He’s far from it. He was being observant, and had I really been paying attention instead of looking at him with heart eyes, I might have understood that I wasn’t what he was looking for. This doesn’t have to be the end of the story, though. “Right now, I want him to eat his words. I can be all those things he said I couldn’t. He said I’m not the type to date because I don’t put in the effort, but I could.”
“You don’t need my help, though.” Zaiah hesitates. “Look it up on the internet.”