Page 19 of The Roommate Game

Oh, God. He felt sorry for me. Just what I needed.

“No, thanks. I’ve got this. My party, my mess.” I grabbed a dish towel and headed for the sink.

“Dude. I’m helping.” Gus shrugged, his beefy shoulders straining the seams of his T-shirt with the effort.

He wasn’t built for small gestures. Everything about Gus Langley was loud and larger than life, and frankly, it was exactly the opposite of what I wanted.

“No, th?—”

“Yes,” he countered, snagging the dish towel from my hands.

I snatched it back. “Why?”

“You’ve done it for me.”

True, but…

“No, I mean…why to all of it? Why are you here? Why are you being nice? Why are you talking to me at all? I called you names and told you to buzz off hours ago. I’m not even sorry about that. Nonetheless, it can’t be my charming personality and it can’t be—oh! Oh no, you’re not planning on calling your friends to come by for a real party, are you? Please don’t. I’m begging you. And no, I’m not above begging.”

“Whoa. Relax. You’re spinnin’ hard for a guy who just had a mojo reset.”

“My mojo did not reset,” I snapped, wrapping my fingers around the edge of the dish towel.

“You losin’ your marbles, Rafe-man?”

“I’m fine.”

No, I wasn’t fine at all. I was one kind word away from a mental breakdown.

Or maybe one kind look.

Gus leaned against the counter, studying me, his expression soft, contrite, and… vulnerable. It almost ruined my long-standing impression of him as a self-serving, obnoxious hockey jerk and made me wonder if I’d gotten it all wrong.

Maybe the universe had been telling me I’d never belonged at Smithton, and I’d stubbornly ignored the warnings. Maybe trying to prove that if I could survive injury and a year with Gus Langley, I could do anything had been an exercise in futility.Sacrifice and hard work were one thing…I didn’t have to be unhappy too.

But Iwasunhappy. It was so obvious that even my terrible roommate felt sorry for me.

And standing next to a pile of dirty dishes in a kitchen with bad lighting, scuffed, ugly cabinets and chipped ivory tiles with a guy I could barely tolerate had to be some kind of rock bottom.

I sniffed noisily and picked up the sponge.

Do not cry. Do not fucking cry.

“I’m sorry,” Gus said softly.

“For what?” I ran water over the dried remnants ofbaba ganoush.

“Taking your food, throwing too many parties, being too loud, too…me. Take your pick—I’m guilty.”

“Thanks. It’s okay.”

“It’s not, and we both know it.” Gus sighed, pushing a hand through his hair. “I guess I should—hey, don’t cry. I’m—shit, I’m so sorry. I?—”

“I’m not crying,” I growled, blinking furiously.

“Okay, but your eyes are kinda watery, and if I had anything to do with that, I?—”

And there went the last of my marbles.