Page 18 of Friends with Benefits

Theo smashes the controller keys in no particular order and somehow his Kirby shoves Pranav’s Young Link off the cliff. It’s incredibly satisfying. Victorious, he stands and drops the controller onto the beanbag. “Well. I’m sorry to inform you that Evelyn’s grandparents just sold the bungalow. She’s sort of in her own housing crisis.”

Micah and Pranav exchange a look before Pranav turns to Theo with a smirk. “You’re welcome.”

“What?”

“Sounds to me like you need a roommate and Evie needs a room.”

Oh.

Theo’s brain had jumped straight to panic mode, not even pausing to consider such an obvious solution. Ask Evelyn to live here. It’s not as if they’re not constantly together anyway. As roommates, their chill nights in can be even lazier. It could be so good, in theory. So why does thinking too much about the reality of living with his best friend, of seeing his favorite person with morning bedhead, of hearing her shuffle around the apartment in those ridiculous slippers make him so… nervous?

“Perfect.” Micah fluffs his hair again, the strawberry tint of his cheeks fading with relief. “I wanted to tell you—”

“Micah.”

“—but Pranav wanted to keep it hush until it was a done deal.” He reaches for Pranav’s hand and twines their fingers together. “Asshole.”

Micah’s tone is loving, adoring. Pranav’s pupils are heart-eye emojis. It’s disgusting how cute they are, Theo’s roommates. Ex-roommates. And itisan asshole move, this lack of notice. Theo should state this.

Instead, he lets them off easy. “It’s the end of an era.”

Five years ago, Theo didn’t know what to expect when he responded to Pranav’s post in an alumni Facebook Group.Open bedroom in Pasadena. $800/mo plus utilities. Comes with two chill roommates who adhere to a strict cleaning schedule and one less chill (but perfect) cat.What started as a roommate-ship of convenience with Pranav Singh and Micah Solomon has evolved into actual friendship, forever bonded by a reverence for pineapple on pizza, an obsession withLost, and a traumatic bedbug incident.

Theo exits the living room to process their imminent departure and the possibility of Evelyn taking their place. He reaches for his phone to text her. But he can’t. She needs a beat. Meaning she’ll text him when she’s ready to talk. It’s an established boundary he won’t cross, not even when he has some major news—and a major proposal—for her. Instead, he pulls up the lease and reworks his budget, relieved that he can (barely) afford to split the rent two ways instead of three, relieved that he doesn’t have to let this spacious rent-controlled apartment go—

Except.

As he skims over the lease agreement, he notices a stipulation.

Each tenant must provide proof that their monthly salary is at least three times the rent.

Three times?

Each?

Maybe… it’s not an enforced stipulation?

Theo bolts from his desk. “Micah? Pranav? Is there a guarantor attached to our lease?”

“My parents,” Micah says, so casual, so oblivious, so privileged. “We never would’ve been approved for this place otherwise.”

“Right.”

Theo’s brain reverts to panic. Of course. Nothing is that easy. For a moment, he believed that he could fix Evelyn’s housing crisis.

But actually,shit, now he’s in one, too.

5

Evie tours eleven apartments in three days and on a scale of one to soul-crushing, apartment hunting in LA is right up there with the balance of her medical bills. About $1,700 a month will get her either ACora refrigerator. In those three days, she blew through an entire tank of gas driving to various listings across the city, a total waste of time because the decent ones already had multiple applications in process and the still-available ones had weird stains on the walls and roaches in the sinks. There was one spot in Palms, near Imogen, that seemed promising—hardwood floors, natural light, a fridge—until she found a bloody T-shirt in the shower. She and Imogen ran without so much as a goodbye to the broker becauseholy shitdid they just tour a crime scene? Is their DNA now all over a crime scene?

After this minor trauma, they’re in stop-and-go traffic on the 110, still processing the Palms Incident, not processing that they’re en route to say goodbye to the bungalow for real, when Imogen asks, “Are you going to call Theo?”

Evie shrugs, easing up on the brake pedal just to crawl a few inches forward.

“Let me rephrase,” her sister amends. “Call Theo. Did he do something stupid? Yes! Were his intentions sweet? Yes! Are you going to forgive him? Of course! He should be there to say goodbye.”

Imogen is right.

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