Page 18 of The Roommate Subtext

“All right, all right. Keep your secrets, Gandalf.”

Blake’s eyebrows drew together. “What?”

“Gandalf.” Seriously, did he not get this reference? “From Lord of the Rings? It’s a Frodo quote. To Gandalf. Oh my god, how can you be a nerd and not know this?”

“I’m not that kind of nerd. I’m a plant nerd.” Blake smiled again. “I was talking about this earlier with Andrew. How there are different kind of nerds? His new boyfriend—” He paused, pursed his lips, and amended. “Or, the guy he’s seeing, I don’t know if they’re at the boyfriend/boyfriend stage yet—Andrew said he’s a nerd, and I asked him what type.”

“When do I get to meet Andrew? Does he ever come hang out here?” She hadn’t seen Blake entertain since she moved in, not friends or dates or anyone.

“Oh, uh …” Blake shifted in the recliner. “We usually get together at his place. I don’t want to bother you.”

“You can have guests here, Blake.” Maggie laughed. It was sweet, if a bit weird. “It’s your condo. We have separate rooms. You can bring back friends, or … or dates, or whoever.”

There was that blush again, the one that made Blake look at least five years younger. “I’m not dating right now.”

She kicked her feet up onto the coffee table. “God, I know, right? The dating scene right now is absolute garbage.”

“It’s hard for me to believe you’d have trouble finding a date.”

From another guy, she’d think that was flirting, but she wasn’t sure with Blake. “Thanks. But I’m quick to judge and have no time for bullshit, so it makes dating difficult. Since dating is at least 80 percent bullshit.” She tipped her head back to stare up at the ceiling. She wasn’t dating, but she was definitely hoping to get some online action later. The Pimpernel still hadn’t messaged her, and she’d decided to message him that night.

She could feel Blake’s gaze on her even though she wasn’t looking at him. He was a tough person to read sometimes, at least when he wasn’t blushing. She caught his eye. “What?”

He shrugged, enigmatic again. “Do you really want to meet Andrew?”

Her mind had drifted far from that conversation. “Yeah. I mean, we’re friends, I should meet your friends.”

Another tiny smile twitched on his lips, making her heart twist in some kind of way. “We’re friends?”

“Of course we’re friends. Look at us, sharing this living room right now.” She gestured around them. “We’re having a nice conversation. You brought me my favorite takeout. What, is there an application now?”

“No application.” He smiled more broadly. “Most people get weirded out by the plants. Or the organizational binder about them.”

“I’ve had far weirder roommates.” He wasn’t even in the top five. She checked the clock. She was going to wait until at least eight o’clock to message the Pimpernel. Eight seemed like a good time.

Blake was back to staring at his computer screen again, his smile replaced by a thoughtful expression. He’d type, delete, then type some more. Maybe he was sending a challenging email. Or writing a blog post. Lots of people had blogs these days.

At least he wasn’t watching porn. She’d had that roommate, too.

Blake was apparently done talking. Maggie drummed her fingers and checked the clock again. She should perhaps reread that Pimpernel story so she’d be ready to talk to him about it, if he happened to be available.

“Maybe I’ll go read in my room.”

He didn’t look up. “You can read in here if you want. You’re not bothering me.”

It was nice to sit here in the living room with company, that was true. She drew her legs up beneath her, curled against the armrest, and opened the story she’d read last weekend.

Maggie only made it a couple of lines in before the discomfort overwhelmed her. Nope, this was not going to work. Blake was right there, and even though he wasn’t reading her screen, his presence was distracting enough. The last thing she needed was to associate her roommate with the hot kinky fiction she was reading. She’d had enough trouble with that last weekend. She cleared her throat and got to her feet. “Can’t focus. Think I’ll clean my room instead.”

“Kay.” He still didn’t look up, although as she passed by, his screen blinked like he’d swapped windows. Maybe her imagination, or maybe he didn’t want her to see what had his attention.

Relatable.

Maggie closed the door to her bedroom and leaned against it, looking around the space and the clothes scattered across the floor. When she first moved in, she’d kept the door closed most of the time, conscious of her messy tendencies in contrast to Blake’s impeccable condo. But that only lasted a week or two, and now she kept the door open and tried to keep things presentable as a concession to being a good roommate. Not that Blake would ever say anything; he was polite like that. When he straightened the refrigerator, he cleaned her items as well as his own, and he’d gather her forgotten half-empty glasses from around the apartment when he was going to run the dishwasher. But he never entered her room, and it tended to degenerate into messiness over time.

She put on an instrumental playlist and started on the clothes. Having in-unit laundry was a luxury; she didn’t miss trekking to the laundromat, the same way she didn’t miss the rotation of roommate to roommate, moving between a half dozen apartments in as many years, knowing that if she spent the inheritance instead of watching her dimes, she wouldn’t have to live like this.

Now, her whole inheritance rested on a flimsy house of cards, ready to give out at a strong gust of wind. James had told her there was nothing to do but wait, and so she waited. Again, she considered telling Cora, but dismissed the thought. If there was nothing to do but wait, she might as well spare Cora the worry. She would focus on what she could control: this Pimpernel investigation, for example.