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The Perfect Roommate by Minka Kent Read Online (FREE)

“Little over a year,” she says.

“And has he always been this way?” I ask.

She exhales, her breath like clouds. “Always. That’s why I told him we need a break. I can’t take it anymore. I can’t take the constant jealousy.”

“Sounds insecure,” I say.

Lauren is quiet for a second, and my heart trips in my chest when I worry I’ve offended her.

“He’s extremely insecure,” she finally responds. “And he has no reason to be. He’s gorgeous and intelligent and he’s perfect. Just wish he could see that.”

We arrive at Patterson Hall and file inside, finding two seats side-by-side in the front row of the auditorium, directly in front of the podium. Lauren sips her tea, her matte magenta lipstick miraculously staying in place, and scans the room.

A few students pass, one of them giving me a double take, like I’m familiar but they can’t place me. Or maybe … maybe they think I’m really something to look at? In a good way?

I don’t want to get my hopes up.

Earlier today, I stopped at Target and splurged on new makeup. Thirty-two dollars later, I was the proud new owner of things like contour cream, dark circle corrector, liquid blush, extreme lengthening mascara, and 16-hour lipstick.

Thank God for YouTube tutorials or I’d probably resemble Ronald McDonald right now.

“There he is,” Lauren says under her breath as she leans close. A waft of her expensive shampoo passes between us and she taps her taupe nails on my knee.

“Who?”

“Bristowe.” She nudges me and I catch the Cheshire grin plastering her pretty face from the corner of my eye. “God, he’s beautiful, isn’t he?”

“Yep,” I say. “And married.”

To an equally beautiful woman. A woman who is very near and dear to me. An intelligent, talented writer. A thoughtful human being. The kind of person Lauren could never compete with.

Lauren shrugs, like it doesn’t matter to her that he’s a married man. My grip tightens around my pen and my breath quickens, but before I have a chance to say anything more, the lights flicker, Bristowe’s signal for the class to be quiet.

I like Lauren, but this is just disrespectful.

I don’t like the way she’s looking at him.

Not at all.

 

Six

Wellman’s is packed Friday evening. Dollar wells tend to draw college students like flies to shit, which I think is a fair comparison. It isn’t even five o’clock and half of these people are drunk off their asses on cheap beer, knocking into each other as they make their way around the room, screaming along word-for-word to the Imagine Dragons song blaring from the speakers.

It’s pure chaos.

My shoes stick to the floor when I walk.

And I’m trying not to panic.

Instead I’m convincing myself that this is going to be fun, that I fit in more now than ever before. Lauren’s guy cut and colored my hair today, Tessa picked out my outfit, and Lauren let me borrow a pair of sexy kitten heels that pinch my toes but add a boost of confidence to my walk.