Falling for My Ex's Roommate

Chapter 3

“Lola, don’t use me in whatever game you’re playing with Zack.”

“I’m not—”

Simon’s sharp gaze pinned me in place for a moment. Then, without another word, he pulled out his phone.

“I’ll call you a cab. You can head back on your own.”

“Simon...”

Panic bubbled up, and before I could think, I snatched the phone from his hand.

“Lola.”

His voice was calm, steady, but his eyes locked onto mine, dark and unreadable.

There wasn’t anger in them, just layers of emotions I couldn’t unravel. The intensity of it made my throat tighten.

“I can’t go back to the dorm.” My voice wavered. “Everyone’s laughing at me.”

I glanced down, twisting his phone in my hands, my chest tightening.

“And I’m scared to go home.”

The words spilled out, softer now, my voice barely above a whisper.

“Can you let me stay at your dorm for just one night?”

I tucked the phone behind my back and bit my lip.

“If you really hate me that much, though, and don’t want me here… just say so, and I’ll leave.”

A tear slipped down my cheek before I even realized it. Then another.

Simon didn’t respond.

He just turned, started the car, and drove.

The rain had slowed to a drizzle by the time we pulled up to his dorm building.

I followed him inside, damp and quiet.

Simon opened his closet and pulled out a clean hoodie, handing it to me. “The bathroom’s over there.”

His hoodie was enormous on me, soft and warm. After my shower, I slipped it on, the hem brushing against my thighs.

When I stepped out, barefoot and bare-legged, Simon glanced at me—then immediately looked away.

I crossed the room and sat down on his bed. My damp hair dripped onto the sheets, leaving faint water spots on the light gray fabric.

The scent of his shampoo lingered on my skin, mingling with the faint smell of him in the room.

Simon grabbed a pack of cigarettes from his desk, his movements stiff. “I’m going to smoke.”

He stepped onto the balcony, leaving the door ajar.

I stayed where I was, glancing around his space. His bed was neatly made, the sheets perfectly tucked. His desk was spotless, lined with books and a sleek laptop.

As I reached for a photo frame on the desk, my phone buzzed in my bag.

Zack’s name lit up the screen.

I didn’t answer.

The buzzing stopped, only to start again a few seconds later.

With a sigh, I silenced the phone and shoved it back into my bag.

“Simon.”

I called out toward the balcony.

He turned immediately, stubbing out his cigarette before stepping back inside. “What’s wrong?”

Standing over me, Simon’s presence filled the small room. His dark eyes flicked to mine briefly before he looked away again, the tips of his ears faintly red.

“I got your sheets wet,” I said, motioning to the damp spots. “How are you going to sleep tonight?”

His gaze dropped to the bed, and his jaw tightened.

Without a word, he turned back to the closet and grabbed a clean set of sheets.

“Dry your hair first,” he muttered, his voice low. “I’ll change them.”

I clutched the towel in my lap, watching him work. His movements were sharp, efficient—but the back of his neck was flushed.

I couldn’t help but smile.

When I came back after drying my hair, Simon had already finished changing the sheets.

“You can sleep now,” he said, settling into the chair by his desk without even glancing at me.

“What about you?”

“I’ll play some games.” He slipped on his headphones, his focus locked on the screen.

“Oh.”

I sank into the bed, curling up beneath the blanket.

Simon’s phone buzzed on the desk, breaking the quiet.

He picked it up, glanced at the screen, then turned slightly to look at me before answering.

“Zack? What do you want?”

My chest tightened. I clenched the blanket and held my breath.