It’s a guy. A guy I’ve never seen before. He’s sitting on the floor directly in front of the couch, and he’s holding a bowl. He dips a spoon into the bowl and shoves it into his mouth, then begins the loud crunching again. I’m guessing that’s not gravel he’s eating.

“Are you the new roommate?” he says with his mouth full.

I shake my head. “No,” I mutter. “I’m a friend of Ridge’s.”

He cocks his head and looks at me suspiciously. “Ridge only has one friend,” the guy says. “Me.” He shoves another spoonful of cereal into his mouth and fails to back out of my personal space.

I push my palms into the couch and sit up so that he’s not right in my face. “Jealous?” I ask.

The guy continues to stare at me. “What’s his last name?”

“Whose last name?”

“Your very good friend, Ridge,” he says cockily.

I roll my eyes and drop my head against the back of the couch. I don’t know who the hell this guy is, but I really don’t care to compete over our levels of friendship with Ridge. “I don’t know Ridge’s last name. I don’t know his middle name. The only thing I know about him is that he’s got a mean right hook. And I’m only sleeping on your couch because my boyfriend of two years decided it would be fun to screw my roommate and I really didn’t want to stick around to watch.”

He nods, then swallows. “It’s Lawson. And he doesn’t have a middle name.”

As if the morning could get any worse, Bridgette appears from the hallway and walks into the kitchen.

The guy on the floor takes another spoonful of cereal and looks at Bridgette, finally breaking his uncomfortable lock on me. “Good morning, Bridgette,” he says with an odd, sarcastic tone to his voice. “Sleep well?”

She looks at him briefly and rolls her eyes. “Screw you, Warren,” she snaps.

He turns his gaze back to mine with a mischievous grin. “That’s Bridgette,” he whispers. “She pretends to hate me during the day, but at night, she loves me.”

I laugh, not really trusting that Bridgette is capable of loving anyone.

“Shit!” she yells, catching herself on the bar before she trips. “Jesus Christ!” She kicks one of my suitcases, still on the floor next to the bar. “Tell your little friend if she’s staying here, she needs to take her shit to her room!”

Warren makes a face as if he’s scared for me, then turns his head toward Bridgette. “What am I, your bitch? Tell her yourself.”

Bridgette points to the suitcase she almost tripped over. “GET . . . YOUR . . . SHIT . . . OUT . . . OF . . . THE . . . KITCHEN!” she says, before marching back to her bedroom.

Warren slowly turns his head back to face me and laughs. “Why does she think you’re deaf?”

I shrug. “I have no idea. She came to that conclusion last night, and I failed to correct her.”

He laughs again, much louder. “Oh, this is classic,” he says. “Do you have any pets?”

I shake my head.

“Are you opposed to porn?”

I don’t know how we just began playing Twenty Questions, but I answer him anyway. “Not opposed to the principle of porn but opposed to being featured in one.”

He nods, contemplating my answer for a beat too long. “Do you have annoying friends?”

I shake my head. “My best friend is a backstabbing whore, and I’m no longer speaking to her.”

“What are your showering habits?”

I laugh. “Once a day, with a skipped day every now and then. No more than fifteen minutes.”

“Do you cook?”

“Only when I’m hungry.”

“Do you clean up after yourself?”

“Probably better than you,” I say, taking in the fact that he’s used his shirt for a napkin no fewer than three times during this conversation.

“Do you listen to disco?”

“I’d rather eat barbed wire.”

“All right, then,” he says. “I guess you can stay.”

I pull my feet up and sit cross-legged. “I didn’t realize I was being interviewed.”

He glances at my suitcases, then back to me. “It’s obvious you need a place to stay, and we’ve got an empty room. If you don’t take it, Bridgette wants to move her sister in next month, and that’s the last thing Ridge and I need.”

“I can’t stay here,” I say.

“Why not? From the sound of it, you’re about to spend the day searching for an apartment anyway. What’s wrong with this one? You won’t even have to walk very far to get here.”

I want to say that Ridge is the problem. He’s been nice, but I think that might be the issue. I’ve been single for less than twenty-four hours, and I don’t like the fact that although I should have been consumed with nightmares about Hunter and Tori all night, instead, I had a slightly disturbing dream involving an extremely accommodating Ridge.

I don’t tell Warren that Ridge is why I can’t stay here, though. Partly because that would give Warren more ammunition for questions and partly because Ridge just walked into the kitchen and is looking at us.

Warren winks at me, then stands up and walks with his bowl to the sink. He looks at Ridge. “Have you met our new roommate?” Warren asks.

Ridge signs something to him. Warren shakes his head and signs back. I sit on the couch and watch their silent conversation, slightly in awe that Warren knows sign language. I wonder if he’s learned it for Ridge’s benefit. Maybe they’re brothers? Warren laughs, and Ridge glances in my direction before walking back to his bedroom.

“What did he say?” I ask, suddenly worried that Ridge no longer wants me here.

Warren shrugs and begins walking back toward his bedroom. “Exactly what I thought he’d say.” He walks into his room, then comes back out with a cap on and keys in his hand. “He said you two already worked out a deal.” Warren slips a pair of shoes on by the front door. “Heading to work now. That’s your room if you want to put your stuff in it. You might have to throw all of Brennan’s shit in the corner, though.” He opens the door and steps outside, then turns back around. “Oh. What’s your name?”

“Sydney.”

“Well, Sydney. Welcome to the weirdest place you’ll ever live.” He shuts the door behind him.

I’m not sure I’m comfortable with this, but what other choice do I have? I pull my phone out from under my pillow. I start to text Ridge, because I don’t recall closing a deal last night regarding my living arrangements. Before I finish the text, he sends me one first.

Ridge: Are you okay with this?

Me: Are you?

Ridge: I asked you first.

Me: I guess. But only if you are.

Ridge: Well, then, I guess that means we’re roommates.

Me: If we’re roommates, can you do me a favor?

Ridge: What’s that?

Me: If I ever start dating again, don’t be like Tori and sleep with my boyfriend, okay?

Ridge: I can’t make any promises.

A few seconds later, he walks out of his bedroom and goes straight to my suitcases. He picks them up and carries them through the other bedroom door. He opens it and nods his head toward the room, indicating that I should come with him. I stand up and follow him into the bedroom. He lays the suitcases on the bed, then pulls his phone out again.

Ridge: Brennan still has a lot of stuff in here. I’ll box it up and put it in the corner until he can get it all. Other than that, you might want to change the sheets.

He shoots me a wary look regarding the condition of the sheets, and I laugh. He points to the bathroom.

Ridge: We share the bathroom. Just lock the main door to the hallway and both doors to the bedrooms when you’re in there. I obviously won’t know when you’re in the shower, so unless you want me barging in on you, make sure to lock up.

He walks to the bathroom and flips a light switch on the outside of the door, which turns the lights on and off inside the bathroom, then turns his attention back to the phone.

Ridge: I added switches on the outside because it’s an easy way for someone to get my attention, since I can’t hear a knock. Just flip the switch if you need to come into the bathroom so I’ll know. The whole apartment is set up this way. There’s a switch outside my bedroom door that turns my lights on and off if you need me. But I usually have my phone on me, so there’s always texting.

He shows me where clean sheets are and then cleans out what’s left in the dresser while I put the new sheets on the bed.

“Do I need furniture?”

Ridge shakes his head.

Ridge: He’s leaving it. You can use what’s here.

I nod, taking in the bedroom that has unexpectedly just become my new home. I smile at Ridge to let him know I appreciate his help. “Thank you.”

He smiles back.

Ridge: I’ll be in my room working for the next few hours if you need anything. I have to go to the store this afternoon. You can go with me and get what you need for the apartment.

He backs out of the bedroom and gives me a salute. I sit down on the edge of the bed and salute him back as he shuts the door. I fall back onto the bed and let out a huge sigh of relief.

Now that I have a place to live, all I need is a job. And maybe a car, since Tori and I mostly shared hers. Then maybe I’ll call my parents and tell them I moved.

Or maybe not. I’ll give this place a couple of weeks in order to see how things turn out.

Ridge: Oh, and btw, I didn’t write that on your forehead.

What?

I run to the dresser and look in the mirror for the first time today. Written across my forehead in black ink, it says: Someone wrote on your forehead.


Ridge

Me: Morning. How’s the thesis coming along?

Maggie: Do you want me to sugarcoat it, or are you honestly giving me an opening to vent?