The Perfect Roommate by Minka Kent Read Online (FREE)
He closes the door softly before drawing the blinds to the window looking into the hall.
My eyes squeeze, burning then watering. I imagine him sitting his picture of Elisabeth face down. I imagine her reaching for his belt, him slipping his fingers in her hair. Two wicked smiles. A shared secret.
It isn’t right.
Lauren has no right to ruin Elisabeth’s happiness.
Perhaps, then, it’s only fair that I ruin hers?
Thayer gave me his number the night we first met. At the time, I thought he was just being polite … like an “any friend of Lauren’s is a friend of mine” sort of thing. Now I know he wanted to create that connection in case he ever needed it or if ever he couldn’t locate his beloved. As her roommate, I was a link to her. A way of tracking her down.
But I’m flipping the tables.
My phone trembles in my unsteady hands but I manage to tap out a coherent text. With a hovering thumb, I read it over and over again. Once I send this, it can’t be undone. It’ll be there, forever.
The message is simple, unassuming, but the intention is nothing short of nefarious.
DO YOU KNOW WHERE LAUREN IS?
Pacing, I draw in a cold breath that freezes my lungs and hit send.
Within seconds, its delivered and subsequently read. Three bouncing dots fill the screen and then disappear.
My palms sweat. I’ve never done this before. Never interfered like this in anyone’s relationship—not even my own mother’s, and believe me I had ample opportunity to take some of those sons of bitches down.
The ring of my phone sends a shock down my spine despite the fact that I fully expected this.
“What are you talking about? I thought she was at home?” he asks before I get a chance to say “hello.” His words are rushed, breathy. Sprinkled in anxiety. He doesn’t like to be left in the lurch.
You and me both, Thayer.
“She’s usually home by now,” I say. “I texted her earlier but she didn’t respond.”
It’s a dangerous lie to tell, especially when I could so easily be proven wrong, but I don’t want to lose my momentum just yet. I’m so close I can taste it.
“Jesus.” He’s panicking. I’m imagining his palm dragging the length of his handsome face. His shoulders slumping. His breath growing heavy. “I haven’t heard from her in hours now that I think about it.”
“It’s probably nothing. I just didn’t know if she was with you.”
“She texted me after class. Said she was on her way home.”
So the bitch flat out lied to her own boyfriend. At least I’m not the only one she’s keeping secrets from.
I don’t tell him I saw her take the blue bus and stop off at Bristowe’s office. I’ll let him piece this puzzle together himself.
“Let me call her,” he says, working himself into a frenzied, frantic state.