Page 60 of The Roommate Game

“Hmph.Yeah, that’s not gonna go over well.”

Rafe twisted in his seat. “It’s your life, Gus. You get to choose.”

I reached for his hand, unthinking, and smiled.

Sure, it was my life, my choice, but there’d be fallout and disappointment. And telling my mom I wouldn’t be accepting any lawyerly internships or applying to law school would cause a mini ice age or a war. But I’d milked every ounce of college for all it was worth, and the time was up.

My friends were happy for me, but a little confused.

“Congrats. That’s awesome. I just…I thought you were going to be a lawyer,” Brady said, cracking open a beer and handing it to me.

“You have to go to law school first, Brade-ster.” Ty tapped his bottle to mine and pulled me in for a one-armed bro hug. “Do we have a law school here or would you have to commute?”

“What does it matter? I’m not gonna be a lawyer,” I huffed, clandestinely setting the beer next to a dying plant on a bookshelf.

“Dude, you’d have to go to like…Syracuse or Buffalo or something,” Regan chimed in. “Hey, break out the tequila. Getting a real job with benefits before graduation calls for the good stuff.”

Brady winced, sliding the half-full tequila bottle on his kitchen counter. “Sorry. We only have Jose Cuervo.”

“Plebes.” Regan sighed. “Are we using glasses or just taking swigs?”

“Use a fucking glass.” Ty riffled through a cupboard and unearthed four shot glasses. He wiped them on his T-shirt to be sure they were clean and motioned for Brady to pour.

Conversation continued around me. Regan had a feeling his girlfriend was breaking up with him, Ty thought he was overreacting, Brady made a snarky comment about Cassie leading Regan by his nuts, which pissed Regan off. Sometimes I thought Brady had a secret crush on Regan—not that I’d tease him about it.

Fuck knew, I had enough of my own secrets. My closest friends had no idea I’d been fucking my roommate for the past two months. They thought we’d called a truce and didn’t know we slept together nearly every night and that we decided whose bed based on which sheets were cleanest.

And they had no idea I’d been sober for even longer.

I had to tell them.

According to my therapist, I was doing the right things, choosing new ways to fill my time, new ways to deal with stress and anger. She’d strongly encouraged meetings, so I’d gone toa couple two towns away…as a lurker. I’d literally stood against the wall, hugging the shadows like a phantom and listening to people I didn’t know bare their souls. I couldn’t do it. I wasn’t brave enough.

“It’s called surrender, Gus. You’ll know when you’re ready,” she’d said.

Yeah, well…not today.

Ty shoved a shot glass in my hand. “To Gus! From captain to coach…”

“And teacher,” Regan added.

“All the girls…and boys are gonna draw hearts around your name in the yearbook and beg to be in Mr. Langley’s class.” Brady batted his eyelashes.

“Fuck off,” I grumbled, my fingers shaking as I tried to figure out where to dump my shot and if they’d notice.

The smell of tequila was so strong, and it evoked insta memories—not all of them bad. This stuff was liquid courage. I’d done shots before I’d asked a popular cheerleader out in high school. I couldn’t tell you her name or what she’d looked like, but I remembered this scent mingled with her perfume and sounds of sex in the back seat of my car.

Fast forward, many parties and bad decisions later, it was me stumbling to my dorm at three in the morning after celebrating a win or birthday or whatever the fuck. I’d had to stop in an alley to get sick. My balance had been off and I’d collapsed, hit my head, and sat there bleeding, vomit on my shoes, so stoned, I couldn’t find my phone. I’d passed out. The sound of garbage trucks eventually woke me and…everything smelled like tequila.

Christ, I was sweating now.

Tell them, asshole. Just fucking tell them.

“Bottoms up, man.”

I drew the amber liquid to my lips, nearly gagging, and at the last possible second, slid the glass facedown on my palm and letthe tequila trickle into the potted plant behind me. I’d had to be quick, obviously. This crew didn’t sip gut rut. They slammed it and poured another immediately.

I swiped my forearm across my mouth, mimicking a shiver of disgust at the taste when the truth was that I was disgusted with myself. It wasn’t like me to hide…anything. I felt like a fraud, but I wasn’t ready for heavy discussions, and I definitely didn’t want to ruin the celebratory vibe.