Page 5 of Dear Roomie (Classic City Romance #1)

He’s changed into a clean button-down but left it untucked from his khaki pants. His bare feet poke out from the bottom of his slacks, ruining the whole junior-accountant vibe he’s got going on.

“Don’t you have more to unload?”

“No, that was it.” His shoulders tense as his gaze drops to the floor.

“Oh.” Oh . How could those few boxes be all he brought with him?

He didn’t even have a bed; what is he going to do, sleep on the floor?

It’s clear from the way he refuses to meet my eyes that he’s uncomfortable talking about this.

“You can set the table, then,” I suggest, changing the subject.

“The plates are in the cabinet next to the microwave, silverware is next to the fridge.”

His shoulders relax, and he moves to follow my instructions, setting us both a place at the small table tucked away behind the couch.

“Cups?” he asks, and I direct him to the right cabinet.

I bring all of the food over to the table, and we both fill our plates. Several minutes pass, blanketed in an awkward silence while we eat. My skin crawls from the uncomfortable pressure.

“You can use the TV,” I blurt out. “The one in the living room, I mean. If you want to. Since yours broke.”

“I don’t want to impose,” he starts to protest.

“You wouldn’t be,” I cut in, and I’m surprised to find I mean it. “You live here now too.”

“Do I?” he asks with a small smile playing on the corner of his lips. “I take it your conversation with your dad didn’t go the way you hoped, unless that was a bluff.”

“Not a bluff.” My eyes fall to my plate as I tear a tortilla into tiny pieces.

I suck in a deep breath and swallow my pride.

“I’m sorry about earlier. I freaked out and lashed out instead of thinking things through.

If you are still willing to try, I’d like to start over.

” I look up at Morgan, and he’s giving me another one of those breathtaking smiles.

“I’d like that.” He reaches a hand across the table. “Morgan Hall.”

I shake his hand, and my lips curl with a smile. “Ophelia James Clarke, but I go by James.”

“It’s nice to meet you, James.” He pulls his hand away and resumes eating. “Tell me about yourself.”

“I have a boyfriend.” The words come tumbling out without thought.

Why did I just say that?

I cringe and brace for Morgan to tell me off, but he just laughs .

“I know, I saw the pictures of you together. I just thought you were going to be him.”

“Oh.”

“How long have you two been together?”

“A little over ten years,” I tell him, and he lets out a long whistle.

“That’s impressive. I can’t imagine being with someone that long. You’re, what, twenty-one?”

“Twenty-two,” I correct. “I’m a fifth year.”

“So you were twelve when you got together?” He shakes his head as he absorbs that information. “Where is he now?”

“Tanner graduated from Georgia Southern last December and has been working at his dad’s campaign office back home ever since.”

“The long-distance thing must be tough.”

That’s an understatement. We went from seeing each other every day for years to only seeing each other a few times a month, and it sucks.

It’s been over four years, and it’s never gotten easier.

I miss him. Even more now that his job keeps him too busy to visit as often.

Ever since he graduated, it barely feels like we are in a relationship.

When we are together, things are good, but finding time for that seems to be growing rarer and rarer as the election approaches.

Things will be like they were before once I graduate and we close the gap. I just have to get through this year.

“It is, but we make it work.” Melancholy swells for a moment before I shake it away. “What about you? Anyone special in your life?”

“No, I haven’t dated since undergrad. After I graduated, I joined the Peace Corps and haven’t had time for relationships since then.”

“What brings you all the way from Peru to Athens, Georgia?”

“Law school. It was time for me to go back to school, and the University of Georgia offered the best financial-aid packet. It was a no-brainer, really.”

We fall into a comfortable conversation throughout the rest of dinner and continue even after our plates are clear.

I tell him all about my dad being in the Air Force and how I spent his deployments with my Grandma Anne in Savannah.

That’s where I met Tanner for the first time when we were seven.

Morgan tells me about his time in Peru, and I learn he is originally from Michigan but got his bachelor’s degree at Arizona State University on a wrestling scholarship.

Neither one of us pushes for anything more than surface-level information, but it’s nice, and the contrast to our first interaction is a welcome surprise.

The conversation hits a natural lull, and we fall back into silence, but this time, it lacks the oppressive edge. I start to clear the table, but he stops me before I can lift a plate.

“What do you think you’re doing?” Morgan asks. His voice is stern, but there is a playfulness behind the tone.

“The dishes,” I tell him, but it sounds more like a question than a statement. Oh God, he’s a slob, isn’t he? I knew it was too good to be true. He got points in the green-flag column for offering to help and not being weird about Tanner, but this might ruin it all.

“No you aren’t. You cooked, I’ll clean.”

Oh. Make that three points in the green-flag column.

“Thank you for dinner, James, and for the company, but I’ve got it from here. Go relax and enjoy your night.”

I’m too dumbfounded to do anything but listen.

I can’t remember the last time Tanner cleaned up after a meal, and I don’t think he ever has without me nagging him first. I’m going to have to check his work in the morning, but for tonight, I’m content to let him handle it.

If things stay like this, living with him might not be so bad.