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The Perfect Roommate by Minka Kent Read Online (FREE)

She huffs. I huff.

“Anyway.” Lauren shrugs, studying me, perhaps silently waiting for me to judge her. I keep a poker face.

“So what happened to the roommate before me?” I ask.

“I’ve never had one.”

“Okay. So, why now?”

Exhaling, Lauren says, “So that stipend? It’s based on my GPA. Last semester, I kind of got a little … distracted … and I failed a class. First time in my life. It was a seven AM on the north side of campus on Friday mornings. Anyway. It’s no excuse. I failed it. GPA plunged. Parents were livid. Chopped my stipend in half—essentially barring me from having fun. Their way of punishing their twenty-three-year-old daughter.”

“Oh.” Nice to know I’m scrubbing toilets so she can get wasted with her friends.

This explains everything. The lack of a deposit, the lack of a lease or a background check. She’s desperate for some supplemental income, willing to take in a stranger to maintain her cushy little life.

“Just to let you know … my parents won’t know you’re living here,” she’s quick to add. “And you’ll only be able to stay through May. Maybe July. Depends on how quickly I land a job after graduation. I hope that works?”

So, she likes me.

She’s choosing me.

Just like that.

“That’s perfect actually,” I say. “I’m graduating too. Hoping to get the hell out of here.”

I wear a smile that matches hers and we bask in a moment of mutual understanding for a single, endless second. Our desire to leave Monarch Falls might be the only thing we have in common, but I’ll take it.

“You want me to show you around?” Lauren rises from her seat and straightens the hem of her top.

Returning my water to its floral napkin resting place, I stand. “Sure.”

Spinning on the ball of her foot, she struts across the small living room, toward a dark hallway. I follow. Flicking on the light, she says, “This house is, like, a million years old. It’s really dark. Windows are small. And your room is on the smaller side, by the way.”

My room.

“I mean, the room you’d be renting,” she clarifies. “If you want it.”

Stopping at the last door, she reaches her hand inside and gets the switch.

Clearly we have different definitions of “small.” This room is easily the size of my last apartment, complete with shiny wood floors, a double bed, a nightstand, dresser, and two curtain-covered windows.

“But you’d get your own bathroom—the hall bath.” Lauren’s words are rushed, as if she’s worried I’m having second thoughts. “I never use it.”

We step inside, and she shows me the closet, which is the smallest thing about this room. But it’s fine. I don’t have a lot.

“What do you think?” Lauren lifts her nails to her mouth, watching for my reaction. “It’s yours if you want it.”

“You sure?” I lift an eyebrow. We’ve known each other all of fifteen minutes, though I suppose living with strangers is kind of the college way.