I Told My Roommate My Date Rejected Me… Her Next Words Left Me Speechless
Chapter 3
A week later, Claire received a bouquet of flowers.
I knew because I opened the apartment door when the delivery guy knocked.
“Claire Morgan?”
“She lives here.”
He handed me the flowers.
“Sign here.”
I looked at the card.
There was no name.
Only:
Dinner tonight? I miss talking to you.
I stared at it.
When Claire came home, I was still holding the flowers.
She stopped.
“Oh.”
I held them out.
“Secret admirer?”
“Something like that.”
“Someone from work?”
“No.”
“You know, normal roommates don’t inspect each other’s flowers.”
“Normal roommates don’t get mysterious flowers.”
She took them.
Her face had changed.
Not happy.
Not excited.
Worried.
“Who sent these?”
“I don’t know.”
“Then why are you keeping them?”
She looked at the card again.
“Because I know who it is.”
“Who?”
She hesitated.
Then said,
“My ex.”
I blinked.
“You have an ex?”
Claire laughed.
“Everyone has an ex.”
“Not you.”
“Why not me?”
“Because you never talk about relationships.”
“Exactly.”
I leaned against the door.
“What happened?”
She put the flowers on the table.
“His name is Ryan.”
“Why do you hate him?”
“I don’t hate him.”
“You look like you want to burn the flowers.”
She sighed.
“Ryan was my college boyfriend.”
“And?”
“We broke up badly.”
“How badly?”
“He lied.”
“About what?”
She shook her head.
“I don’t want to discuss it.”
“Okay.”
I immediately noticed she was relieved.
Then she said,
“He’s coming back to town.”
“How do you know?”
“He emailed me.”
“What does he want?”
“I don’t know.”
I looked at the flowers.
“Does he know where you live?”
“No.”
I stared.
Claire’s eyes widened.
“He couldn’t.”
“Then why did he send those here?”
She had no answer.
That night, someone knocked on our door.
Claire froze.
I moved toward it.
“Who is it?”
Silence.
Then another knock.
Claire whispered,
“Don’t.”
“Why?”
“I don’t want to open it.”
I looked through the peephole.
Nobody.
I opened the door slightly.
There was an envelope on the floor.
I picked it up.
Claire’s name was written across it.
She took it from me.
Inside was a photograph.
Claire and Ryan.
College.
Standing together at some beach.
She stared at it.
“What the hell?”
I looked at her.
“Are you sure you don’t want to tell me what happened?”
She folded the photograph.
“No.”
“Claire.”
“No.”
Her voice cracked.
“I don’t want you involved.”
I watched her walk to her room.
That hurt.
Because for two years, we had told each other everything.
Except the things that mattered most.
The next day, I found her sitting outside with coffee.
I sat beside her.
“You don’t have to tell me.”
She looked at me.
“Thank you.”
“But…”
I paused.
“If someone is bothering you, I want to know.”
Her eyes softened.
“I know.”
“Why won’t you tell me?”
“Because some things are embarrassing.”
“Nothing you’ve ever done could embarrass me.”
She looked down.
“I loved him.”
I waited.
“He didn’t love me the way I thought.”
“What did he do?”
“He cheated.”
I nodded.
“He wasn’t worth it.”
“He wasn’t.”
“Then why are you afraid?”
She stared at the street.
“Because the person I thought I knew turned out to be someone else.”
I didn’t know what to say.
So I stayed.
After a moment, she rested her head briefly against my shoulder.
“Thanks.”
I froze.
She noticed.
“Relax.”
“I am relaxed.”
“You’re sitting like a statue.”
“I don’t know what to do.”
She laughed.
“Then don’t do anything.”
For some reason, the warmth of her head against my shoulder stayed with me long after she stood up.
And that night, I couldn’t stop thinking about the last thing she had said.
Some people aren’t who you think they are.
I wondered whether she was talking about Ryan.
Or someone else.
