The Roommate by Carla Krae Page B

put in an order, and she went away.   “You were a little rude.”
    “She interrupted our conversation. Good service knows to wait for a pause.”
    “Did you hear it might rain tomorrow? We lucked out today.”
    Okay, left turn.   “Nope. Don’t count on that rain until you actually see water fall out of the sky. Will you answer my question?”
    “Which one?”
    Don’t play innocent with me .   “What is your type?”
    “Why are you so curious about this?”
    “What, we’re friends. We can’t talk about the opposite sex?”
    “Neither of us has a love life, so I don’t see the point.”
    “Okay…you don’t have to get testy about it.”
    He sighed.   “Sometimes I think you argue just to argue.”
    “That makes no sense.”
    “You push my buttons.”
    I did.   I wanted to peel the onion layers.   “Hadn’t noticed.”
    He stared at me.   “Jessica, you know damn well what I mean.”
    Ooo, I’d made him swear and use my full first name.   “Maybe I want to see past that careful reserve you show most of the time.”
    “I’m always myself.”
    “You’re guarded, Patrick. I’m not asking you to change, just loosen up a little. Haven’t we gone through enough for that?”
    “A week and a half.”
    “A very eventful week and a half.”
    “Be that as it may, I move slowly with people. Some can connect like lifelong friends in a single day. I’m not wired like that. You’re free to accept it or not, but this is the way I am.”
    “Fine. I won’t push.”
    He was too stubborn and it wouldn’t do any good.   We had to get along to live together.   Just wish he trusted me.   Or wanted to know me the same way.
    Dinner was filled with innocuous small talk.   I’d made him uncomfortable, so he would retreat until he was ready to engage again.   All I could do was wait it out.   But we did order cake.
     

Chapter Eight

 
    The morning was a reset.   Dark clouds had come in overnight, but it still might not rain.   Patrick made breakfast (omelets).   I’d slept in, so he got up from watching the morning news to cook for me.   Guess I hadn’t alienated him too badly.
    “Thanks.”
    “You’re welcome.”
    Huddled in my fluffy robe, I focused on my food.   He went in his room for a while.   I changed the channel.   Hoped he’d leave me alone.
    He came back out with his bicycle.   “I’m going to run some errands.”
    “Okay.”
    “Are you feeling alright?”
    I’d usually gotten dressed by now in his experience.   “Maybe I’m getting a cold or something.”
    “Ah. Feel better, Jess.”   He rolled the bike to the door.
    “Yeah.”
    The only thing sick was my heart.   Or my head.   Whatever part of me it was that couldn’t stop wanting more from Patrick than being a good roommate.   It felt desperate, needy…at least I hadn’t turned full-on stalker, yet.  
    I needed a life.   No more pining!
    With that resolve, I dressed and left the apartment.   Maybe not the best day to seek fresh air, but at least I was out of my pajamas and outside.   Wandered until I ended up in Griffith Park.   Even on a day like this, one could still enjoy the view.
    The breeze was cold on the hills.   The air smelled damp.   Probably would rain in parts, after all.   Shivering in a long-sleeved tee, I headed home.
    He was still out.   Silly boy was risking getting soaked.   I changed into a thick old sweater, sweatpants, and Uggs, and cranked up the heater.   Put in a favorite movie and cuddled the fuzzy decorative pillow on the sofa.   My roommate came home ten minutes later a little damp.
    He handed me a bag.   “Egg flower soup.”
    “Thanks.”
    “Next best thing to chicken noodle.”   He went about putting his things away and drying off the bike.
    Damn his sweetness.   Every time he did something unexpected and nice, the teenage girl inside me chanted he likes me, he likes me!   Remember being young enough to think every boy that was pleasant around you might