Sunshine Seeks Roommate (Family of Misfits #2)
Chapter 1
WAYLON
I’m not saying I hate love. In fact, I fucking love love.
And one day I hope to be neck-deep in it.
I hope to absolutely reek of it. I’m one hundred percent, without a doubt, going to be obsessed with my wife.
Whoever she is. How do I know that? Because I don’t want a wife I’m not obsessed with.
I just don’t know who she is yet. And I don’t want her right now…
or anytime soon. In maybe five years or so, though? You betcha.
But love is also the reason I’ve had three roommates in the past eighteen months.
Because the exact same thing happens every time.
They move in, we get comfortable, they fall in love with someone, and they move out to live with them.
I find I’m very frustrated at having to break in a new roommate every six months.
Do you know how hard it is to trust a stranger all up in my space?
And with my dog? I do not take that shit lightly.
So while I don’t hate love, like I said, I do find that it’s inconveniencing my life an awful lot for someone who isn’t even fucking experiencing it.
Which is why I’ve decided that part of my screening process this time around will involve the following questions: Are you currently dating someone? Are you presently on the prowl for love? Can you confirm that you don’t intend to fall in love for at least twelve months?
I reckon these questions might come off a little personal. But roommates do get personal. I’ll likely know each time this person takes a shit, and you’re telling me I can’t ask them about their love life? Give me a break.
The truth is, Kent moved out two days ago to live with his girlfriend, whom I never even met.
Which is weird, right? Whatever. So, I’d really like to find someone within the next week or two.
I’m not poor or anything. I could survive without a roommate, I suppose.
But I don’t want to. I like spending money on other things.
Like new boots. And people underestimate what a good pair of boots can cost.
It shouldn’t be too hard to find a roomie.
It hasn’t been in the past. The problem is keeping them.
Perhaps I won’t go through my usual channels this time.
Normally, I’d post an ad in this group I’m in online.
It’s a big local page of people looking for roommates or selling their shit or offering their lawncare services.
Usually that just means a kid with a push mower, but I respect the hustle.
Maybe I need to look in my immediate circle first, though. Maybe someone knows someone—that kind of thing. At least then we’d have a link of commonality. Plus, the person who knows them can tell me about them ahead of time. Yes, I like this plan.
I pull up my group chat with Ridge, Banks, Killian, and Avery. We’ve gone around and around about the name of the group, changing it all the time. It started as SHOP CREW and then devolved into anarchy. It’s currently called SPANK ME, DADDY, but I couldn’t fucking tell you why.
ME
Does anyone know someone looking for a roommate?
RIDGE
Replacing Kent already?
ME
He left two days ago.
BANKS
Do you even know his girlfriend’s name?
ME
No. Isn’t that weird?
BANKS
More than a little.
KILLIAN
I can’t think of anyone, but I’ll ask around.
ME
Ok, but none of your friends from that chess club you’re in.
RIDGE
I’m sorry, who’s in a chess club?
KILLIAN
Thanks for that, twat.
ME
My bad. I meant your secret chess club.
KILLIAN
Fuck off.
RIDGE
I have questions.
KILLIAN
You fuck off too.
BANKS
Maybe he was intimidated by you.
ME
Who?
BANKS
Kent. Maybe he thought you’d steal his mystery girlfriend away.
I sincerely hope that isn’t true. But it would explain why he was so squirrelly anytime I asked anything about her.
ME
Whatever, it doesn’t matter. I’m just asking if anyone knows a reasonably normal someone who needs a roommate. Fuck, you guys are hard to keep focused.
BANKS
I’ll ask the model chat I’m in. They’re all young, single guys.
ME
Please don’t do that.
BANKS
Why?
ME
Because I don’t want to be known as “the funny one” when people come over.
BANKS
*eye-rolling emoji*
ME
You could just use the fucking emoji.
BANKS
Nah, I like spelling them out.
RIDGE
\I’ll ask Darcy. Maybe she knows someone from class or something.
ME
Thanks, man.
AVERY
What did I miss?
What a bunch of assholes. I stare down at my phone, smiling and shaking my head. Christ, that was annoying. I click a few buttons, satisfied with my work.
Waylon has changed the group name to BUNCH OF ASSHOLES.
I put my phone down before anyone can chime in.
I don’t have a lot of hope they’ll know anyone.
There’s no way in hell I’ll pick anyone Banks suggests.
Fuckin’ pretty boys. I have a feeling whoever Killian suggests will have the personality of a stale biscuit no matter how much gravy I bring to the roommateship.
Okay, that came out wrong, and now all I’m thinking about is the savory sausage gravy my granny made on Sunday mornings when I was a boy.
Might as well start searching the message board now. Hopes are not high. Which means it’s Tater time.
I click my tongue against my teeth and pat my thigh. You can hear Tater before you ever see him. A sharp bark, nails clacking against the hardwood floor in the hallway. It’s very likely he was asleep on his side of the bed. But that’s the thing about dogs. They’ll always be there when you call.
Tater leaps onto the couch next to me, then pounces feet first right into my dick and balls. I bite my lip to avoid cussing at him. Mostly because I’ll feel worse about it than he ever will. He leans up, gives my forehead a single lick, and then settles down, his long body half on my lap.
When I went to the local dog rescue two years ago, I didn’t even know if I’d come home with a dog.
I thought maybe I’d have to go a couple of times in order to find the one.
But then they showed me this mama corgi who’d just had a litter of pups.
She had one little fella left—the runt of the litter.
She’d even already been adopted herself, but her new owner had agreed to let her stay until he found a home.
So imagine my surprise when out from behind her pops up this little head with big ears and hesitation in his eyes.
I held my palm out toward him and used my best baby voice to coax him out.
He gave me three sniffs, looked up at me, barked, and then pounced at me.
That little butt of his started wiggling and I was a goner.
Tater came home with me that day, and we’ve been best buddies ever since.
I’m not saying there was a good reason for a single potato to have been sitting in my back seat, but I know he liked it better than the fifty bucks’ worth of toys I’d bought him after we left. I’d found him gnawing on a Russett as big as he was, and when I called him Tater, he barked his approval.
“You’re the only love I need in my life, huh, buddy?” I ask, scratching behind his ear.
He leans into my touch, tongue out and oblivious to my question.
“You know, Tater, I’m starting to think you don’t listen to me,” I say, giving the other ear attention.
Tater yawns and tucks his head low. He’s not much of a conversationalist. Another reason I need a roommate.
I like talking. I like hanging out and having a good time.
Living alone is annoying for me. We could get into that psychotherapy talk about what that says about me as a person, or we can just roll with it and avoid making it awkward. I choose the latter.
My phone buzzes, and even though I know it’s probably the group chat, I turn it over and look.
DARCY
I heard you’re looking for a roomie?
I know you can’t read tone in texts. The sender has a meaning and the receiver has to try to find that meaning with zero context clues. It’s a terrible system, honestly. The result being that, oftentimes, the receiver adds their own assumptions.
For example, this text from Darcy is unassuming on its face. There are no threatening exclamation points, no angry face emoji, or any shouty caps.
So why do these seven simple words sound so ominous coming from her?