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The Perfect Roommate by Minka Kent Read Online (FREE)

“Okay, sure.” I force a smile that lights her face.

“Yaaaay,” she says, voice soft as she claps. What is it with girls soft-clapping anytime they get excited? This isn’t the PGA tour. “Is sushi okay? We’re thinking Taki downtown?”

Sushi? What kind of college student has a budget for Taki? Not to mention the thought of eating raw fish makes my stomach churn. I’ve always been convinced people only claim to like sushi because it sounds cool.

I nod, my mouth watering—but not from hunger. “Of course.”

Lauren goes to leave, and I think of the envelope. And Emily Waterford. Then I catch a glimpse of myself in the dresser mirror. If I’m going to get sushi at Taki with Lauren and Tessa, I need to look halfway presentable.

“Give me a few minutes?” I drag my fingers through the sandy-blonde mop on my head, hoping a ponytail will suffice.

She gives me a thumbs-up. And then she’s gone.

Yanking the dresser drawers, I search for my newest pair of jeans, a Christmas gift from my grandmother who was appalled this past Thanksgiving when I confessed I didn’t own a single pair without frayed hems or holes in the crotch. Next, I pull a shirt from the closet. A button down. Pink with flowers. Probably better suited for a fifty-year-old white-collar professional than a twenty-two-year-old college student. It’s not trendy and it’s the kind of thing Lauren would never be caught dead in, but it isn’t stained or stretched, so it’ll have to do.

Digging around inside one of my totes, I find my small Ziploc baggie of drugstore makeup. Most of it is old—my mascara nearly dried out and past its expiration, but it’s all I have.

My hair is last, and the stubborn idiot in me attempts to do one of those messy bun things on the top of my head.

I fail.

Miserably.

Which only causes my heart to race to the point that the room begins to spin, my breath quickens, and a thin glaze of sweat forms across my brow.

Why did she have to invite me? Does she think we need to be friends just because we’re living together? I’m perfectly fine with doing the whole two-passing-ships-in-the-night thing with the occasional “hello” or “good morning.”

A Xanax would be a godsend right now, but unfortunately, I used my last one four days ago, when I had to give a presentation in my English Women Novelists class.

Brushing my hair back, I succumb to my hairstyling incompetence and secure it in a basic ponytail before giving myself a final once-over in the mirror.

My mind refuses to quiet, reminding me of how awkward I look, how much I’m going to stand out with the two of them, how much I hate sushi, and how much happier I’d be if I just stayed here.

But I’ve already committed.

The sound of a horn honking from the driveway is my indication that it’s too late to back out, even if I wanted to.