Free Roommates (Soulmates #1) by Hazel Kelly

head up with his hand.
    I dropped my blinder and looked at him. His face was still soft
and sleepy.
    "I'm sorry if I woke you," I said. "I just have
to get ready for my audition so-"
    "It's fine. I have to get up anyway."
    "Oh good," I said, prying my mind away from the
question of whether he was naked under the covers. "Thanks for the socks
by the way."
    He scrunched his face. "The socks?"
    "That you put on me last night when you got home?"
    "Oh. Sure. Don't mention it."
    I took another step towards the bathroom door.
    He scooted up and leaned against his navy blue pillows.
"You nervous about today?"
    I shrugged. "A healthy amount. Or so I'm telling myself.”
    He nodded and yawned. "I'm sure you'll do great."
    I raised my eyebrows. "Yeah?" Kind words from him were
like puddles in the desert- too few and far between to ignore.
    "Somebody has to get the part, right? Might as well be
you."
    "Thanks." I reached for the bathroom doorknob, trying
to keep my eyes from scouring his chest.
    "Just kiss him the way you kissed me and you'll definitely
get the part."
    I forced a smile and closed myself in the bathroom.
    What the fuck was that supposed to mean?
    "Hey Jen?"
    "Yeah?" I called through the door.
    "Don't lock the door. I gotta take a piss, but I'll wait
until you get in the shower."
    My eyes grew wide. "Great," I said. Absolutely
freaking fantastic.  
     

 
    Chapter 16: Ethan
     
     
     
    I did have to piss, but I could’ve waited. I didn’t need to go
in there when I knew she was naked and soaping herself up on the other side of
my city skyline shower curtain.
    I guess I did it just to torture myself.
    Though the flush was to torture her.
    And when she called me an asshole, I felt like I was back on
track. After all, the more she pushed me away, the sooner she’d stop feeling
like the carrot at the end of my fucking stick.
    Besides, I had to do something after she called me out for
giving her my best socks. Why did she have to mention it?
    And why did she have to kiss some theatre tit to get a part?
    That thought alone was completely ruining my day.
    In fact, I found it so upsetting that I threw on a hoodie and
headed to MoMA to distract myself.
    It was one of my favorite places.
    Where I was from, there were no museums, no interesting
sculptures, and nowhere that didn't smell like farm.
    Hell, the closest I ever got to any culture as a kid was the
Ohio State Fair, and there are only so many times a person can get excited
about seeing a life size cow made of butter.
    But MoMA was exciting every time.
    I even met a woman at the club once who invited me to see some
of the older pieces in the archived collection that was down in the basement
and no longer on public display. She showed me some new stuff while we were
down there, too, but that's a story for another day.
    A day when I'm not trying to avoid the thought of rough,
inappropriate sex.
    Of course, museums are pretty sexy places.
    Sure, modern art was a bit hit and miss, but it was the hits I
was after.
    Every now and then I'd come across something with such
surprising colors or shapes that I could admire it for ages, seeing something
new in it every few seconds. I liked the modern stuff because it raised
questions, whereas more classic art seemed to be about providing answers.
    But that was just my take. I suppose the whole point is that
it’s subjective, that it reflects more about the viewer than the artists
themselves… Unless we’re talking Frida Kahlo’s work in which case that is some straight
autobiographical craziness.
    The other thing I liked about the museum was that it was a place
for quiet contemplation. Like church, but without the forced religious undertones.
    I remember seeing Ferris Bueller's Day Off as a kid and watching
that part where Ferris and his friends stand in front of paintings at the Art
Institute of Chicago.
    At one point, his buddy Cameron studies Seurat’s Day in the Park ,
and his eyes zoom in on the pointillism, his focus on