Page 37 of Roommate's Guide to Love

“Did I hear you say that it was on the house?”

“Yeah,” I say with a shrug while also suddenly feeling the need to wipe down the cooler. It’s better than looking at his ass as he digs for a Miller Lite.

“You know we don’t do that?”

I figured he didn’t. But I was hoping he wouldn’t hear me say that so I could sneakily slip the money into the drawer when he wasn’t looking. “You should. It’s good will. Plus, every person deserves a birthday shot.”

“I didn’t even get a free birthday shot, and my dad owned the place.”

Now I can’t help but look over to Porter, who’s now nonchalantly pouring four drinks at once and is completely unbothered by the statement he just said. “Really? Not even one?”

He shakes his head as he grabs the soda gun. “Nope. He didn’t believe in free anything. I’m pretty sure he even paid for food he brought home for us.”

“Okay, that’s insane,” I say as I glance up and down the bar to make sure no one needs served. “The man owned this place for what? Thirty years? You’re telling me in three decades he never gave, or took, anything?”

Porter thinks about it for a second as Jenny flags me down to make her drinks to take to her tables.

“Nope. Not once.”

“Jenny? Is this true? Porter’s dad never gave out a free drink?”

Jenny is just as much a part of The Joint as Porter is. I’d guess she’s in her mid-fifties and has been serving here since she was old enough to pour a beer. The town loves her, she doesn’t put up with anyone’s shit, and if she serves you once, she’ll remember your drink for the rest of her life.

She also knows more gossip than anyone in town. If it’s happening, Jenny knows about it.

“Not a once,” she says as she organizes the Jack and Cokes on her tray. I feel Porter getting closer behind me, but I don’t turn to take in his proximity. “Actually, I think the only night we’ve ever given free drinks was Frank’s wake.”

“Oh wow,” I say, trying to keep my face even as I turn away from Jenny. But just as I do, I actually run into Porter’s broad chest. I’d have bounced back if his hand wasn’t there to catch me.

The feel of his hand at the small of my back, and Jenny talking about that fateful day has my memory flooding back to that night.

And judging by the heat in Porter’s eyes, he’s thinking about it too.

The night that started it all.

Is this happening?

Am I really walking next to Porter, his hand on the small of my back, as he leads me up the stairs to his bedroom?

At his house? Where he sleeps?

I realize I sound like I’m sixteen years old again, but that’s because I feel like it. Because if you would’ve told that version of me that she was about to go have sex with one of the hottest guys at Rolling Hills High School, she never would’ve believed you.

But here we are.

How is this happening? I didn’t even want to come out tonight because of the Douche Who Will Not Be Named, but my sisters reminded us that everyone in town needed to pay their respects to Frank. And that’s true. The man was a Rolling Hills institution. But the more the drinks were flowing, the more sad I became, which is why I stepped outside. I needed some air. I needed to cry in private.

Never did I think I’d see Porter.

And never did I think I’d be here right now.

His bedroom is dark, but I can still see remnants of the older guy in school who always made me smile. I’d heard that he moved back in with his dad after he had his heart attack a few months ago. But the room is like I’m stepping back into a time machine: Football trophies and track medals are lined on a shelf. A bookcase with a few books and some pictures. A sparse desk and a queen-sized bed fill the space.

How is this real life? I had a crush on this man for years. I mean, most girls did. I knew who he was growing up—he was in Maeve’s class and played football with my brother. But when I saw him on my first day of Rolling Hills High School, I was immediately smitten.

And then, somehow, by the grace of God or Kelly Clarkson, Porter started talking to me. Me! Quinn Banks. The pain in the ass of the Banks children—which says a lot considering who my brother is. The girl who was always in trouble, but never really punished. The girl who became famous for her pranks and antics. Everyone’s friend. But no one’s love.

But I was okay with that. I get it. I wasn’t beautiful like my sisters. I always struggled with my weight, had a smart mouth, and generally never cared what people thought of me.

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