Page 61 of Roommate
“Okay. Sure.” I use my fist to wipe off the word ham, but it smears. “I can’t work under these conditions. Would you mind tossing me a damp rag?”
Chuckling, Roderick grabs the bar towel and tosses it up to me. “Just pivot, like Jared. Okay?”
Despite my unsteady position on the stool, I laugh at his reference to a funny scene from Silicon Valley. “So I’m Jared, now?” I guess it fits. Jared’s an outsider always trying to fit in.
“We’re all Jared,” Roderick says. “I guess I’m Erlich Bachman—not very self-aware. Always trying to get people to like him.”
They do, though, I think to myself. Everyone likes Roddy, even me. Especially me. But I don’t say this out loud. “Anything more to add before I get down from here?”
“Um.” Roderick strokes his perfect chin, and it makes me want to jump off this stool and stroke it for him. Time hasn’t dulled my attraction for him, and I don’t know what to do about that. There doesn’t seem to be anything to do, except look around for some other guy who cranks my engine the way he does.
Except I don’t want another guy. I want this one right here.
“Okay, can you add this? ‘Now taking orders for holiday cookies and pies.’”
“Sure. Not cakes?” I start on the letters in a new shade of chalk.
“I don’t know how to decorate cakes,” Roderick says.
“That wouldn’t stop the guys on Silicon Valley.” Our TV habit is totally a thing now. On the nights when I come home early enough, we always watch a couple of episodes together.
“Which character am I?” Zara asks, emerging from the kitchen.
“You’re Monica,” I say without hesitation. “She’s sharp and doesn’t take any bullshit from anyone.”
“Is she hot?” Zara asks, sliding a tray of muffins into the case.
“Very,” Roderick assures her. “I should get the bagels into the water bath.” He ducks into the kitchen.
“Very nice,” Zara says, inspecting my work on the board.
“Thanks. It’s just a couple of additions.”
“No, I mean…” She drops her voice. “You seem happy enough with Roderick around. I’m glad that worked out.”
My neck gets instantly hot. “Yeah, it’s fine. He’s all right.”
“Good.”
Luckily, I’m saved from this conversation by two new customers walking into the cafe. The morning rush is about to kick in. I can feel it.
I make someone a skim-milk mocha, and then the door opens again and four more people enter. Zara and I handle the rush together, filling orders on autopilot. Roderick steps out of the kitchen with a new batch of bagels, and I actually sense him before I see him. All he does is slide the platter onto the counter and walk away. Even so, my eyes follow him, and my heart hitches.
This is how I am all the time now. He walks into the room, and all my attention goes straight to him. I’ve never felt like that about anyone, and I don’t know how to shut it off.
I’m not even sure I want to. Zara’s right. The more I know of Roderick, the more I like him. He’s funny, for starters. Who knew you could have a hard-on for a biting wit and a snarky tongue?
His snark is just a front, though. Nobody tries harder than Roderick. Nobody is quicker to lend a hand, or more eager to satisfy the customers.
Audrey and Zara are smitten with him, too, in their own ways. No matter that Roderick was late to work that one time. Our bosses have completely forgiven him. Last week Zara offered him an extra shift in the early morning, and this week Audrey did. They’re both a little drunk on the idea that there’s someone else available to work the brutal five thirty prep shift.
The result is that Roderick is tired. He has circles under his eyes. They’re not as deep as those early days when he was sleeping in the car. But he never says no when they ask him a favor, and he likes the extra hours in his paycheck.
The fact that he goes to bed so early all the time is making a serious dent in our hang-out time in front of Hulu. And forget about learning to cook. I haven’t gotten another lesson yet.
Then again, I haven’t asked. So when Zara takes her break, and Roderick and I are working together, I bring it up. “Look, I know you’re burning the candle at both ends, but let’s not neglect my education. You promised.”
“Your, uh, education?”
