I Told My Roommate My Date Rejected Me… Her Next Words Left Me Speechless
Chapter 1
“I got rejected.”
I dropped onto our tiny living-room couch like someone had unplugged my body.
My roommate, Claire Morgan, was sitting cross-legged on the floor, folding laundry while a cooking show played softly on the television.
She looked up.
“Again?”
I put a hand over my chest.
“That sounded unnecessarily cruel.”
“It was a question.”
“It still hurt.”
Claire smiled.
“Who was she?”
“Emily.”
“The lawyer?”
“Marketing.”
“The one with the red coat?”
“She wore a red coat.”
Claire folded another shirt.
“And?”
“She said I was nice.”
Claire winced.
“That sentence should be illegal.”
“I know.”
I stared at the ceiling.
“She said I was funny.”
“That’s suspicious.”
“And then she said…”
I paused.
Claire waited.
“She wasn’t feeling a spark.”
Claire nodded thoughtfully.
“The classic.”
“I hate that phrase.”
“You shouldn’t.”
“Why?”
“Because it means you can stop trying to create one.”
I sat up.
“That’s easy for you to say.”
“Why?”
“Because you’ve never been rejected.”
Claire laughed.
“You don’t know that.”
“I’ve lived with you for two years.”
“That doesn’t mean you know everything.”
I looked at her.
Claire had a way of saying things that made me feel like there was always another sentence hidden behind the first one.
She was twenty-eight, smart, composed, and annoyingly attractive.
Dark brown hair.
Green eyes.
The kind of smile that appeared slowly, as if she wanted people to earn it.
She worked as a graphic designer at a small advertising agency downtown.
I worked in event production.
We met because a mutual friend had moved overseas and needed someone to take over a bedroom.
Claire had been quiet and reserved when we first met.
I had been immediately comfortable around her.
Which was strange.
Because dating had always been difficult for me.
I overthought everything.
I talked too much when nervous.
I tried too hard.
And apparently, according to Emily, I was “sweet but confusing.”
I still didn’t know what that meant.
Claire threw a clean sock at me.
“Stop.”
I caught it.
“What?”
“You’re doing the thing.”
“What thing?”
“Turning one rejection into evidence that your entire romantic life is doomed.”
I frowned.
“It might be.”
“It isn’t.”
“How do you know?”
Claire stood and carried the laundry basket toward the hallway.
“Because I’ve watched you.”
I followed her with my eyes.
“That’s slightly creepy.”
She laughed.
“You know what I mean.”
“No, I don’t.”
She stopped at her bedroom door.
Then she turned.
“You keep choosing women who don’t actually like you.”
I stared at her.
“Wow.”
“What?”
“That was brutally specific.”
“Was I wrong?”
I thought about it.
Maybe she wasn’t.
Every woman I’d dated had been exciting at first.
Then distant.
Then confusing.
Then gone.
Claire walked back into the room.
“You want to know why Emily rejected you?”
“Please don’t say because I’m terrible.”
“She rejected you because you were trying to make her like you.”
I laughed bitterly.
“That’s how dating works.”
“No.”
She sat beside me.
“Dating is finding someone who already likes the person you are.”
For some reason, the sentence stayed with me.
Then she reached for the television remote.
“Come on.”
“What?”
“Movie.”
“I don’t feel like a movie.”
“Then pizza.”
“I don’t want pizza.”
She looked at me.
“You’ve rejected every solution I’ve offered.”
“I’ve had a bad night.”
“So have I.”
I turned.
“What happened to you?”
Claire looked away.
“Nothing.”
“You just said you had a bad night.”
“I’ve had worse.”
Then she smiled.
“You’re not the only person whose date didn’t work out.”
I stared.
“You went on a date?”
She nodded.
“When?”
“Tonight.”
“With who?”
“Doesn’t matter.”
“Why didn’t you tell me?”
She shrugged.
“I thought you’d make fun of me.”
“I wouldn’t.”
“You made fun of yourself five minutes ago.”
“That’s different.”
Claire laughed.
Then I noticed something.
Her eyes looked slightly red.
“You okay?”
“Yes.”
“Claire.”
She looked at me.
For one strange second, she seemed like she wanted to tell me something.
Then she didn’t.
Instead, she said,
“Maybe the person you want isn’t the person who’s going to choose you.”
I frowned.
“What does that mean?”
Claire stood.
“It means you should stop chasing the wrong person.”
Then she walked toward the kitchen.
I stared after her.
I had no idea that within the next twenty-four hours, I would finally understand what she meant.
And once I did, nothing between us would ever be the same.
