The Unlikely Housemate (The Improbable Neighbor #1)

Chapter 1

“Watch where you’re going, geek,” a guy from the football team says as my palms smack the concrete. The sting draws a hiss from my lips.

He wouldn’t ram into people if he looked up from his phone, I want to say.

Instead, I apologize, even though he’s already halfway across the parking lot, laughing at me with his friends.

He won’t remember this, but for me, he’s just another guy whose face I have to remember so I can stay out of his way.

It’s the first day of junior year, and if this is a sign of things to come, it’s going to be one for the books.

Ah, Meridian High—the bane of my existence.

Where the halls are an obstacle course designed specifically to torment introverts like me.

Every day is a struggle to avoid eye contact, dodge conversations, and try to slip through the cracks unnoticed.

Not that it ever works. My personal mission to become invisible has been a spectacular failure since freshman year when Paige Buchanan picked me as a target for her daily dose of cruelty.

Insults and belittlements flew at me from all directions, it seemed like.

Last year I’d heard her say with a dramatic sigh, “I can’t believe she’s using the same backpack.

” As if reusing a perfectly good backpack is some kind of social crime punishable by public humiliation.

The popular girls have a special talent for making the most mundane things sound like capital offenses.

I’d rather be curled up at home with a good book or watching another documentary about the expedition to Mars because the social hierarchy around here is more rigid than medieval Europe. At least in medieval times, high schools didn’t exist.

So, what’s my strategy? Keep my head down, get through each day without becoming a trending topic, and count down the days until graduation. Only 640 more days to go. Not that I’m counting or anything.

Brown specks of dirt cascade from my pants as I brush them away, sending a dusty cloud billowing into the air.

I drop to my knees, heart still pounding from the collision as I gather my scattered notebooks.

My fingers fumble as I stuff them into my oversized bookbag, betraying the tremor running through my hands.

First day back tends to be my least favorite.

The plastic hair clip dangles by a few stubborn strands, tickling my neck. I yank it free and snap it back into place as my gaze sweeps across the crowded school grounds for the one person who can make this teenage battleground bearable.

My best friend in the whole wide world, Stephanie, stands by the entrance, waving at me with a big smile. I wave back, feeling a bit of the tension in my chest release. At least we have each other here.

“Rough morning already?” she asks as I catch up to her.

“Oh, you know, the usual,” I say with a half-hearted smile. “You?”

“Survived orientation without getting hit by any stray footballs, so I’m calling it a win.”

“Same.” Technically, I got hit by a football player, not a ball. Still counts.

We walk down the hallways to first period. They feel narrower than last year, filled with groups of kids laughing, gossiping, and pretending high school is some kind of magical land where everyone knows what they’re doing.

Not me. I’m just trying to make it from point A to point B without getting knocked down by a jock.

“What’s your first class?” I ask, propping my backpack on my shoulders.

“English,” Stephanie’s eyes roll. “I thought Ms. Burton was the most popular teacher in school. She made us write an essay on our summer vacations. On the first day.”

“That’s cruel,” I say as I nestle against her to avoid a couple of dudes chasing each other like they’re still in third grade. This place feels as if I'm navigating a minefield.

“Right?” She looks at me. “What about you?”

“Chemistry,” I say with a sigh. “But it’s fine. If I’m going to be an astronaut and leave this planet, I need to ace my science classes.”

Stephanie chuckles. “Still planning to launch into space and leave our flawless social norms behind?”

“The first chance I get.”

We hug and part ways, then I make my way to the chemistry lab.

Class is my sanctuary. I really like learning, which I have a distinct feeling sets me apart from most people here.

I raise my hand a lot—too much, I think—and that gets me labeled as a teacher’s pet.

But what can I say? Solving a math problem is much easier than surviving gym class, where I’m always picked last for teams. I can’t blame anyone, though.

I don’t have the athletic gene—compliments of Mom—and I’ve fully embraced that fact.

The moment I walk in, I spot an empty seat near the back where I can stay out of sight.

Perfect.

As I begin toward it, our teacher, Mr. Kendrick, looks up from his attendance sheet.

“And you are?” he asks.

“Chrissy Lang.”

He draws a checkmark on his sheet and tells me to take any available seat.

Halfway to my desk of choice, I realize who I would be sitting next to. Paige Buchanan. Of course. Because the universe really knows how to pile it on.

As if Chemistry isn’t challenging enough! Now I have to sit next to Miss I’m-Better-Than-You-And-You-Know-It?

Paige, with her long, silky-smooth blonde hair and clothes fitting like they were tailored specifically for her, looks like she walked off a runway—like Victoria’s Secret model, Gigi Hadid—always confident, never mocked, while the rest of us mortals struggle with frizzy hair and teenage acne.

Come to think of it, I’ve never seen a single pimple on her face.

Must be nice to already have your ticket punched for the Good-Looking Genetics Express while I’m still waiting at the station marked “Awkward Phase That Never Ends.”

“Just my luck,” Paige says. A scowl twists her features, and her eyes flicker up and down, assessing me like I’m something repulsive that crawled out of a dumpster.

Granted, my choice of wardrobe is the exact opposite of hers—but what’s wrong with wanting to stay hidden under a baggy hoodie and pants?

My chest aches with the sting of her rejection, even though I don’t care. At least, I tell myself I don’t. Pretty sure she’d rather sit next to a dead fish than me. The only other free spot is by the window, next to Rick Sanders, the school bully. The choice is obvious.

I slide into the desk next to Paige and pull out my notebook.

She and her group of popular friends, who I like to call the Queen Bees, have been tormenting girls like me since freshman year.

Paige is their notorious leader, and it’s clear that she’s still carrying on her mission to make sure all the nerdy girls know their place at this school.

I barely have time to organize my belongings before the giggles and whispers of the girls in the front row reach my ears. I look to see what the fuss is all about.

Theo Pearson—the best-looking guy at Meridian High—just walked in. He’s popular, always cool, and oozing confidence. I’m sure of it because every girl in this classroom salivates over him, open-mouthed . . . me included.

I quickly close my mouth as I take in the sight of him.

His ripped jeans are a snug fit, and his black button-up shirt, with the top two buttons undone, teases his toned chest. He’s also wearing black Puma sneakers to match, and don’t even get me started on that long, dark and curly hair—even Jon Snow would be jealous.

We knew each other once, Theo and me. We were five .

. . maybe six, when our parents hung out a lot.

Things were simpler then. People didn’t care what you looked like.

I still remember that fourth of July picnic at Founders’ Square Park—our dads grilling burgers, laughing so hard they’d spill their beers while recounting stories from their college days.

Dad always said he and Mr. Pearson were inseparable at MSU, roommates who became best friends for life.

Theo and I spent hours chasing fireflies in our matching overalls, our sticky popsicle-stained fingers linking together as we ran through sprinklers.

Now, we couldn’t be more different. He’s Mr. Popular, and I—well, I’m just trying my best to fly under the radar.

Sometimes I wonder if Theo even remembers those summers, or if that little boy with the gap-toothed smile who taught me how to skip stones across the lake vanished completely beneath all that high school glory.

“Beat it, nerd,” Paige says, yanking me out of my thoughts.

I blink twice. “What?”

“Do I need to spell it out for you?” She huffs at me. “Move over there.” Her finger points to the empty seat by the window, right in front of Rick Sanders. I know why it’s still vacant. No one in their right mind would sit there.

But what choice do I have? The last thing I need is to get on Paige’s bad side again.

A silent sigh escapes my lips, and I gather my belongings as Paige stares at Theo with seemingly hungry eyes.

“You can sit right here,” she says to him, her voice suddenly sweet, then gestures to the chair I just vacated.

Theo comes over, and for the briefest of moments, our eyes meet. Heat rises to my cheeks as those green eyes bear into me, and I whip my head away. Why did I look at him? Why? Oh, I can’t deny it, either. I’m no different from other girls in this classroom.

“Don’t worry about her,” Paige says loud enough for everyone to hear. “Best not to associate with her.”

I dare not look at her. After all, they’re a match made in heaven. Two good-looking people who seem to fit together like some sort of high school royalty. And me? I’m the court jester to be poked fun at. This day just keeps getting better and better.

After a brief introduction, Mr. Kendrick goes over the syllabus, and I half-listen, my mind focused on Paige and Theo’s conversation.

“How was your summer?” Paige asks. “Did you do anything fun?”

“My family bought a new house,” Theo says, fixing his dark hair backward, but a few rebellious strands slip to the front. He must have gone through a bout of puberty over the summer because his voice got deep, making him even hotter. “I spent most of the summer helping my dad remodel it.”

That explains the nice forearms—all that hammering and heavy lifting would do that to a person. No wonder he looks like he could bench press a refrigerator without breaking a sweat.

“Sounds fun. You must be handy.” Paige ogles him like he’s an exquisite art piece—which he is, but that’s beside the point.

He doesn’t look at her, though, and stays true to his too-cool demeanor. “I’m learning what I can.”

“I stayed in the Hamptons with my aunt,” she says casually. “You should come with me next time.”

I turn my head and wait for Theo to respond, but Paige’s thousand-yard stare makes me think better of it.

Then something hits the back of my head, and I glance down at a crumpled-up ball of paper rolling past my feet.

Great. Between Rick, who’s apparently made it his life’s mission to pelt me with paper, and Paige, who’s no doubt plotting how to make my life miserable, this is going to be a fun class. So much for staying under the radar.

Mr. Kendrick scribbles something on the board, but I can’t focus with that constant annoyance sitting behind me and Paige glaring daggers every time I try to steal a glance a Theo.

I’ll have to talk to the counselor. No way I’ll survive chemistry like this. My stomach clenches at the thought of spending an entire semester sandwiched between Paige’s territorial glares and Rick’s juvenile antics.

If only I could disappear into my textbook. Chemistry itself I could handle—molecules follow predictable rules, unlike Paige, whose eyes flash warning signals every time I so much as take a breath near Theo.

And Rick? I’m not sure what his problem is, anyway. Maybe if I sit absolutely still and avoid eye contact with every human being for the next eight months . . .

Hard pass. I need out.

When the bell rings, I don’t waste a second. I shove my textbook, notebook, and folder into my backpack and make a beeline for the door.