Page 26 of Damn Roommate

In love.

I shake my head, quickly undressing to slip under the hot water.

I’m dating Corey.

I shouldn’t even think about that. Appropriating a guy who’s been in my life for as long as I can remember. Because Nolan Jones is not mine, even if my whole body craves him sometimes. He’s with Harriet.

I’m dating Corey.

And I’ll be spending the night with him on Wednesday.

My body is warming up and my head is buzzing with well-being. I suddenly feel lighter, and it feels good to let go of the whirlwind of emotions that I usually feel with Nolan…

***

“Damn!”

Edgar throws the controller on the futon and slams his fist on the floor. I burst out laughing as Nolan screams his victory.

“You suck, Martin, I can’t help it!”

“Are you jerking off to this game or what? Each time you’re even better than the last time.”

“Excuse me?” laughs Nolan. “What did you say I was? Better! My God, I love that word in your mouth. Say it again!”

“Shut the fuck up,” growls my brother.

I chuckle, slumped in an old, cracked leather armchair, amused by the verbal sparring between the guys for the last half an hour. Nolan and his mother arrived around noon, and as soon as they’d eaten their lunch, the guys rushed into the basement of the house where a geek den had been set up. A PlayStation, hundreds of video games and two controllers. When we were younger, they used to fight to play against each other. The best one would get to compete against the other two, and that Nolan didn’t often pass his turn very often.

“Scarlett, do you want to facethe best? I promise, I’ll be nice to you,” Nolan taunts.

“You have a big head, Nolan.”

He laughs and says something in a low voice, which earns him a slap on the back of the head from my brother. I growl, clearly imagining the obscene nature of his reflection. Head. Swollen. He’s a dude, after all, nothing flies too high when it comes to hints of sex. A classic.

“Which team do you want?”

“Montreal,” I blurt out.

“Canadians? Little player!”

Edgar gets up to give me the controller, still frowning from his defeat. I stare at the screen where Nolan is selecting our respective teams and the type of league we’re going to play in. He takes the Boston Bruins, like every time he plays NHL on the PlayStation.

“Ready?”

“Whenever you’re ready.”

He gives me a last proud look and starts the game. I immerse myself from the first minutes. My strategy is to win against Nolan! Above all, I don’t brag about having spent eleven months with a nerdy roommate in France. Almost three hundred and sixty-five days, where dishes rhymed with duels and NHL. I often lost at first, then the training sharpened my reflexes. But Nolan doesn’t know that. Of course, I don’t have his skill level, because as my brother so nicely explained, this guy spent his adolescence playing this game, improving himself, and challenging his friends. But I’m good and I intend to show him that I too am a tough competitor. The most important thing is to prove that you are a strong opponent and to score the first goal.

“Wait, what is that?!”

“No way!”

My brother stands up screaming, ruffling Nolan’s curly hair, who frowns so much his facial features are distorted. He growls, glaring at me, and I gloat.

Montreal Canadiens 1—Boston Bruins 0.

“Are you serious, Scar? Damn, where did you learn to play like that?”

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