Page 59 of The Roommate Subtext

“Trying to escape from your own life right now?”

She looked up at him, a few emotions flicking across her expression: surprise, hesitation, something like resignation. “There are some complicating factors on my mind, yes.”

“Do you want to talk about it?”

She shook her head. “Not really.”

He wouldn’t push.

“You get everything done on your to-do list?” She craned her neck to look toward the fridge where his to-do list was still stuck.

“For today.” He had more to do tomorrow.

“Oh, I did your laundry.” Maggie looked up. “I didn’t have a full load to do so I threw yours in with mine.” When he opened his mouth to speak, she jumped in with, “I checked the labels and made sure it could all go in the dryer.”

“You checked all the labels?” His stomach did a flip that he recognized as affection. Or maybe … attraction? Weird thing to be attracted to a woman for, but he probably shouldn’t be passing judgment on himself, given his other proclivities.

“Of course.” She looked at him like his question was ridiculous. “It’s not a kindness if you ruin someone’s clothes.”

Blake smiled. “Thank you.” She was surprising him more every day.

Maggie hopped up, pulling her feet off his lap and standing up in one quick motion. The cold air settled down on his legs as quickly as she’d left, and he immediately missed the contact. “I know you just got groceries, but would you be offended if I ordered some Chinese?” She was already pulling out her phone. “It’s on me this time. For the dress and the …” She waved a hand. “The everything.”

“Chinese sounds great.” He didn’t want to cook, anyway.

They chatted throughout the meal. He asked Maggie more about the books she liked and got a wildly eclectic list that transcended any logical grouping. Not only did she read romance, but also sci-fi, fantasy, mystery, biography, and literary fiction, but one of her favorite genres was true crime. The only things she really couldn’t get into were westerns, apparently. He started talking about his favorite books, including an extensive collection of the classics, then digressed into discussing what they’d each had to read for college. She was not surprised about his English minor, since he apparently “looked like he’d have an English degree of some kind,” which she insisted wasn’t an insult. “Because you write for a living,” she’d explained, and it sounded like backpedaling, but they both laughed. They packed up leftovers and kept talking, sharing stories from college and their early years of adulthood. He honestly lost track of time, and when she finally said she was going to take a bath and get ready for bed, he was shocked to see that it was nearly ten.

Blake went to his own room for some privacy and finally messaged Rose.

I’m free to chat when you are, he wrote.

Her reply came immediately. Perfect timing. I’m relaxing.

Me too. It hadn’t been a particularly stressful day, but he’d been busy. How are you feeling?

I’m OK, she wrote. Processing some stuff in my life.

He’d certainly been doing a lot of that himself lately. Want to talk about it?

No, it’s nothing really to share. Nothing personal.

Typical Rose with that. Never anything personal, right? he sent, then stared at the words at the screen. He meant it as playful, but it also felt bitter. They’d both been firm on not getting personal from the outset. What had started as sex had turned into conversation, friendly exchanges, an ongoing check-in that he missed when it didn’t happen.

You want to get more personal? she asked.

He recognized that this might be an opening or a trap. If you’re willing.

I have a hard time trusting people, she replied.

He understood. Mistrust wasn’t his natural inclination, personally: he was a trusting guy, overall, with the exception of his kink identity. That, he kept carefully guarded.

I’m pretty trusting, he answered. Sometimes too trusting.

It’s hard for me to believe that a guy with an entirely secret identity online is the kind who’s naturally TOO trusting.

Blake smiled at her text. How fitting. I’m different with my kink self. Nobody gets to see that side of me.

That wasn’t always the case, she replied. I looked you up. People knew you as the Pimpernel on KinkLife when you were still going to in-person events.