Chapter 28
Ben
Turns out, I kind of like living alone.
John didn’t work out as a roommate. His landlord freaked at the thought of him moving out, so he gave John a killer deal to stay at his old place.
Which means that I’m still on the hunt for a new roommate, but I’m not in a hurry.
Parker rather decently volunteered to pay two months of her share of the rent, given the short notice of her move. Plus, the recent promotion at work came with a nice boost in salary.
For the first time ever, money’s really not an issue. It feels very…adult.
Of course, the extra income didn’t take any of the pain out of dropping my credit card at Portland City Grill that night with Lori.
Not that the meal with Lori had been unpleasant.
It had been fine.
/> But that was the night it hit me: Lori deserved more than fine.
She was a nice girl who deserved more than a guy who’d really agreed to date her only to prove a point to a friend.
And that’s the real kicker.
I’d said yes to Lori mainly to prove Parker wrong, only to belatedly realize that Parker didn’t give a shit one way or another who I dated, or even if I dated.
Parker had moved on. And moved out.
“Wanna go out?” This from John, who, while not my roommate, has been spending a fair amount of time over at my place since my TV’s bigger.
I glance at the clock. It’s eight o’clock on Saturday, and I want nothing more than to stay exactly where I am, vegged out on my couch, contemplating whether or not I want pepperoni or sausage on my pizza.
And that’s when it hits me. I need to go out. Need to get out of this weird funk.
I need to get fucking laid.
I haven’t touched a girl since that night in Cannon Beach with Parker—the one that I attached way too much importance to and got burned for it.
I swing my legs off the coffee table. “Yeah,” I tell John. “Let’s go out.”
An hour later, I’m right back in my element. And pardon the cliché, but picking up girls is kind of like riding a bike. It’s coming right back to me.
If I’m reading the vibes right—and I usually do—by the end of the night, I’ll have my pick of two cute blondes, a gorgeous Latina, or a pretty brunette who I pretty quickly rule out because she looks too much like Parker.
Parker, whom I haven’t spoken to since that night in the restaurant.
I’ve seen her once or twice. We were in the same line at Starbucks the other day, and I’m completely ashamed to admit that I pretended not to see her.
Except I’m not that ashamed, because I’m pretty sure she did the same thing.
“Yo! Olsen!” I turn around and my smile slips a little when I see who’s called my name.
“Hey! Lori!” It’s been about a week since I gently suggested that things weren’t working out, and although she took it like a champ, it’s never exactly fun being confronted with an ex, even though I don’t know that Lori and I were ever serious enough to warrant the ex label.
“What are you doing here?” she asks. Her voice is a shade too loud for the circumstances, which tells me she’s well on her way past tipsy. “Um—”
“Just kidding,” she says, before I can answer. “I know exactly what you’re doing here. Same thing as me!”