Page 36 of The Roommate Subtext

Her spirits lifted at the sight of the typing dots.

Yeah. Can’t sleep, he replied. Even though you wore me out.

Same. She stared at the screen. Is it weird that I want to talk?

Do you usually want to talk after sex?

She hadn’t been thinking of this as sex, since they weren’t even in the same building, but his casual use of the term had her confessing. I haven’t had sex in a while. She had to consciously think about how long it had been, which didn’t feel good. A long while, she added.

Why not? If you don’t mind sharing.

Maggie leaned back against the headboard and drew her knees up. Usually she blamed dating apps, but that wasn’t the real reason.

She’d promised him honesty, a promise she had never intended to keep—their whole conversation was borne of false pretenses—but she could be honest about this. I think sometimes it’s easier to keep being alone than risk being hurt. It wasn’t hard to confess from behind this shield of anonymity.

I know that feeling, he replied.

Maybe they weren’t all that different. Maybe he was also opening dating apps and closing them again immediately, or repeatedly going on unsuccessful dates. Do they make dating apps for kinky people? she asked.

Probably.

Not on any of them? she asked.

I deleted all the dating apps off my phone earlier this year. They made me sad.

His honesty, mirroring her own, touched something in her heart. For the first time, she felt a trace of guilt about lying to him. The apps feel impersonal, she wrote.

After a minute, he sent a block of text. I know they can work. But I can’t stand it. I feel like I can only put up one side of myself on there: either the normal guy or the kinky guy. A woman who wants one isn’t going to want the other.

Maggie found herself nodding even though he couldn’t see her. It’s limiting, she replied. List a bunch of things about yourself and some photos. Answer these questions. Send a pickup line and hope they reply.

I used to hope they didn’t reply. That’s why I deleted the apps.

She could understand that perspective. I should probably do that too, but it feels like giving up.

Maybe I have given up. I don’t know.

Maggie had been like that for the last few years: getting herself on her feet, building her bylines, making sure Cora didn’t have to worry, I think I’m focusing on my career, she wrote, but I’m not sure. It’s what she had told Phoebe. She sent it. But I miss sex, she added.

LOL, he replied. Same.

Maybe she should try to meet him. But was it because she liked him, or to get the dirt for Chauvel’s article? She couldn’t be sure. Every chat was tinged with her guilt.

Can we play online again soon? I had fun tonight, she typed instead.

Yeah. I had fun too.

She cradled her phone in her lap and looked down on it, this tiny lifeline to a whole other person somewhere in the city. You can message me anytime you want, she added. I like talking to you.

That’s not too much personal talk? He sent a wink, then immediately followed up with, I’d like that.

NINE

Blake was humming to himself for a while before he realized it. He’d been in such a good mood lately. Even though it was Wednesday, and he had a lot of work to do before the weekend, none of it was stressing him out. Not even the board meeting tomorrow night. Maybe it was the cooler weather indicating the first signs of fall, or maybe because he’d been sleeping well lately. Maybe because of the casual routines he and Maggie shared without even trying, cohabiting with surprising ease.

Maybe it was Rose. They hadn’t played together again since the weekend, but they’d chatted a few times, silly conversations about the mundane. She didn’t say much about her job, but she seemed to set her own hours like he did, so she might be some kind of freelancer, maybe an independent contractor. She slipped into his mind at all hours: innocuous thoughts about how she was spending her day; less innocuous wonderings about whether she’d played with herself since they last spoke, maybe using one of her toys, maybe thinking of him. Instead of asking, he’d written a story that he could pretend wasn’t about her.

In the meantime, though, that night was the first episode of the new season of Marigold Murders, and he couldn’t wait to order a pizza and find out what adventures lay in store for the characters. He was equally looking forward to Maggie’s return. He hadn’t seen her at all today: he’d left for the office when she was still asleep, and she’d been gone when he returned. She’d left him a note, though, saying what time she’d be back. It was a sweet, unnecessary gesture, and he’d been thinking about that a lot, too.