Page 17 of The Hopelessly Bromantic Duet

Once she leaves, I head inside, ready to see my new place and meet my new roomie.

Jittery with excitement, I turn the key in the lock. I don’t even care that this flat is on the stinking fifth floor of a rickety building. Don’t care about the garlic I smelled on the fourth floor or the barking dog on the third.

When the door swings open, I call out, “Hello, Terry.”

But my voice just echoes.

Cool.

I got here first. That means I can pick the better bedroom. Or, wait—is that kind of piggy? Perhaps I should wait. I’ll be polite. Olivia’s not the only one turned on by manners—they kind of make me swoon. Not that I want to make my roomie swoon.

But I’d like to be a good roomie, so, yeah, I think I’ll wait.

I shut the door behind me, drop my bags, and drink in the sight of this furnished flat that I nabbed at a pittance. I am fucking proud of myself for my persistence.

Even if the couch is a drab gray.

And the kitchen tablemightbe missing a leg.

Also, the sink looks like it’s seen better days.

Even if I wind up with the shittier bedroom, who fucking cares? Not this bloke.

This flat is close, close, close. That’s all I care about. Spinning around, I turn down the hallway—though that’s a generous term since it’s about three feet long. There are two doors off it, and I knock then open the first one.

There’s a bed, a dresser, and little square footage for anything else. But it’s big enough for bonking, and what more do I need? Nothing.

I knock on the second door. No answer, so I open that too. Two bags sit on the floor. Okay, so Terry picked a room already.

Fine, fine.

They’re pretty much identical.

This makes me wonder... I step back into the hall, peering back and forth at the two Lilliputian bedrooms.

“Are you fucking kidding me?” I say to myself.

This place is not a true two-bedroom. They cut a one-bedroom in half. Well, this just shows that if something is too good to be true, there’s a reason.

But this is still better than a mansion in Reading.

I return to the living room to grab my bags, and I spot a note on a coffee table. Leaning over, I glance at the first line. It saysHey, Roomie, so I pick it up and read the rest.

I tossed my stuff into one of the bedrooms, but if you’d rather have that one, it’s cool. I’m good with anything.

Just ran out to grab a coffee. I’ll be out tonight, so if I miss you later, I’ll see you... whenever.

I know everyone says they’re chill, but seriously, I am. I don’t care if you take long showers, have friends over at all hours, or even play loud music.

As long as it’s not Zeppelin.

Sounds pleasant enough.

Setting down the note, I survey the tiny pad once more, then settle on the dull gray couch. “Well, Terry. I’ll be out tonight too, so it looks like we’ll get along just fine,” I say to no one.

The key rattles in the lock. Terry must be back with that coffee already. Maybe next time, I can put in a request for a proper cup of English Breakfast. But for now, I’ll be the casual roommate, sitting on the settee with an easy smile.

“Hello there, roomie,” I call out as the door opens.