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“He’s responsible and works hard, gets paid well. He’s clean and housebroken,” she kids, nudging my shoulder. “And he also happens to be super cute.”
And there it is—Gaby’s weekly attempt at ripping me from my enjoyable singledom. She’s been a perpetual matchmaker since we’ve met, even when her matches have failed miserably every time.
I throw out my hands. “I don’t care what he looks like. He’s a he.”
“And? What do you have against men?”
“I have nothing against men in particular, but men as roommates are a hard limit. They’re gross, and loud, and they bring their dates home… Is he straight?”
“He is.” She winks, clearly misunderstanding me, and her smile widens.
“That’s even worse. No. Sorry. This isn’t happening.” I shake my head, tucking my lips. “I refuse to have a roommate who brings women home and…”
I grimace, waving a hand around the apartment, imagining Joe having sex all over my red couch and distressed Papasan chair. I tilt my head, trying to imagine the logistics of someone having sex in the cushy, nest-shaped chair. Gaby follows my line of sight as if trying to figure out what I’m picturing.
“He’s harmless,” she says. “And we’ve had dates over. It didn’t bother you then.”
I purse my lips, glaring at her and she understands.
“Sorry. How many times have I had dates over and it never bugged you?”
Whereas Gaby’s dating life has been active, to say the least, mine has been virtually non-existent. We’ve shared this apartment since college, but in those six years, I’ve had one serious boyfriend, which only lasted six months. Strangely, this seems to bug her more than me, but I’m fine with not having someone to share my life, and bed, with.
Totally fine with it.
Absolutely A-okay with being a constant spinster.
Gaby shakes my knee, bringing me back to our conversation.
“Please say yes,” she insists, her hands in prayer. “I promise it’ll be okay, and like you said, you don’t have a lot of time to find a new roommate, do you?”
“And whose fault is that?”
“True, but that’s why you should be happy I’ve taken care of it. It’s lined up and ready to go. There’s nothing you need to do.”
She’s trying to appeal to my regimented side, but it’s not working. “What if I hate him?”
“Then I’ll ask him to leave. There’s no way I’d want you to be uncomfortable with the guy. This is to help you.”
My eyes open wide.
“I mean, help you with the apartment. You know, with the rent?” She chuckles, taking my hand.
“Gaby, promise me this isn’t some weird hookup thing?”
“Eww, no. I wouldn’t do that to you. I promise.” She crosses her heart. “But I doubt you’ll hate him. Joe’s great.”
I purse my lips, doubting every word coming out of her mouth, but I shouldn’t. Gaby’s my best friend and has never lied to me. So, maybe I should be more open-minded.
At the very least, I can meet the guy before passing judgment. He might not be so bad.
JOE
The day starts off as one of those rare summer days when the city is charming and not sweltering, but I can smell the humidity in the air, inviting rain later.
Being a punctual person, I make it to the apartment building early and instead of sitting in my car, I decide to walk around the block to check out the neighborhood.
Gabrielle, Will’s younger sister, showed me pictures of the apartment a week ago, and when I heard how cheap the rent was, I agreed to move in almost immediately, but nothing is set in stone until I see it in person.
