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“Not in Northern Cali.” Without asking, I handed Ellis an earbud. “Put that in, and we’ll find something to watch. Action? Comedy? No drama, please.”

“Comedy, if that’s okay.”

We settled on The Princess Bride . My dad loved this movie, but it’d been a few years since I’d seen it.

Meanwhile, Ellis was mouthing the dialogue.

He’d obviously seen it a hundred times, but he reacted like it was his first. Fucking adorable.

He was even cuter when he forgot to plaster himself against the bus window and relaxed into his seat.

“Oh shoot, sorry!” Ellis’s head bounced against my shoulder about halfway through the movie. Ellis had been trying to keep his head on the seat rest, but the later it got, the more he forgot to keep his distance.

“For what?”

“Umm, putting my head on you?”

“You’re sleepy.” My hand found its way to the far side of his head and gently applied pressure until his head returned to my shoulder. “It’s more comfortable than the window.”

“I don’t want you to think I’m hitting on you.” That was a leap on Ellis’s part. “Just because we’re both gay and all.”

“Uh, my guy, I didn’t think you were hitting me, but I do think you’re tired. Put your head back down.” After Ellis complied, I noticed his hand was back at his mouth. “Finish the movie, and then we’ll get some sleep.”

“Shit. Sorry, dude. I was trying to be quiet.”

Dean’s, my soon-to-be former roommate, luggage was piled high near the front door of our apartment.

We’d been casual friends since our freshman year and got along reasonably well.

He didn’t care that I was bi, not gay as Ellis thought, and I didn’t care that he was a fucking slob so long as he kept the mess in his bedroom.

“It’s fine. I needed to hit the gym before practice anyway.

” My shuffled steps to the kitchen were drowned out by his cussing as he tried to finagle his suitcases downstairs.

“You need some help?” My question wasn’t answered because the racket of him throwing his suitcases down the steps to tumble out the door was too loud. “I would have helped.”

“Easier to throw and nothing to break anyway.”

“You excited about a semester in Vancouver?”

“Yeah, I’ve never been to Canada. I hope I can understand them.”

“They speak English.”

“Yeah, I know, but what if I can’t understand their accent?”

“It’s Vancouver. I can understand if you were going to Montreal, but it’s Vancouver .”

“And?” Christ on a cracker, this guy was dumb as shit.

“And they speak English and sound pretty close to how we sound.”

“You can’t know that though.”

“Did you do any research before you applied? Or, like, I don’t know, watch a video about them or something?”

“Nah, my parents said they wanted me to study abroad and didn’t say where, so I picked somewhere close,” he said with a shrug.

“I’ve been to Vancouver. You’ll be fine,” I said with an eye roll.

I gathered Dean’s passport and wallet off the counter for him when he began tearing through the living room, tossing couch cushions and books out of the way.

I’d told him to leave the documents there before I left because I knew him and had expected him to do exactly what he was doing.

He nodded his thanks when he took the documents and put them in his bag.

“I should have just left these in my bags.”

“Yeah, maybe.” That had been my first suggestion, but Dean said he’d forget where they were because he’d never put them there on his own. Since he’d waste time looking for them later, it was best to leave them on the counter now. It made no damn sense to me.

“Got any leads on a new roommate? And I’m sorry for leaving in the middle of the semester.”

“It’s not your fault your class is a midsemester switch.

Kinda strange how they set that up ’cause it seems like that would be a lot of extra work for everyone.

” I busied myself making coffee while I waited for Dean to come up with his latest bullshit explanation for why he was leaving mid-semester to study abroad.

“Shit. I might as well tell you…” Dean laughed. “I’m failing all my classes, so I’m withdrawing early and going up on a tourist visa until the summer term.”

“What a fucking shock,” I answered dryly. “How’d you convince your parents to do that?”

“Meh, they hate each other more than they care about my shit. I don’t mind playing mommy/daddy games with them.

” Dean’s shrug meant he’d put it out of his mind.

I admired his ability to put things out of his mind, but it was equally scary.

Would Dean notice if he came home and I’d been eaten by cats? It was questionable.

“Gonna sublet my room?”

“I doubt it since your dad paid until the end of the lease. I’m going to enjoy not having to share a bathroom, getting to keep my leftovers, and having no one around to convince me to go out drinking when I need to study.

” I ignored his double-sided one-finger salute at the leftover comment.

He did steal them—all the damn time. I’d come home from practice, and they’d be in the trash while Dean claimed he had no idea what happened.

Fucker . My parents were significantly less forgiving than Dean’s, and they’d kick my ass if I pulled half his shit. I’d still miss the asshole though.

“And hookups that won’t look at your roommate and know they chose poorly?” Dean’s lecherous smirk wasn’t sexy, no matter how often he claimed it was.

Dean gathered more of his mail and dumped it unceremoniously in the trash.

“I hope you’re not throwing away my mail.”

“Nah, I pull yours out first.” He handed me some of my mail from the pile he’d gathered. “Except for this one.” A quick glance at the return address showed it was from the sheriff’s office that I hoped to work at after I graduated from college this year.

“Goddamn it, Dean. This could be important.”

“It’s probably not. They’d email you the important stuff.”

The sharp honk outside was the sound of the Uber he’d called to take him to the airport.

I’d expected one of his parents to drop him off, but maybe they weren’t as clueless about his bullshit shenanigans as he thought.

Not my problem because I was about to spend the rest of my senior year without a roommate.