The roommate clause

The apartment was barely big enough for two people, but three made it feel tight in a new, more intimate way.

John sat on the couch pretending to be busy on his laptop. Claire and Marcus had been in and out of the hallway for the last half hour, hauling in Marcus’s things. She laughed at one of his jokes — loud, a little too loud — and John felt it like a small needle under the skin.

“Last box,” Marcus said, stepping back inside. He was sweating through a tight T-shirt, muscles stretching the sleeves, tattoos peeking out. Claire followed behind, holding the door.

“That all?” she asked, brushing her hair out of her face.

“Yeah, that’s everything. Thanks for the help.”

“You’re lucky I’m nice,” she said with a grin, heading to the fridge. “You want a drink or anything?”

“What do you have?”

“Craft beer that tastes like soap,” she said, throwing a smirk at John.

John didn’t look up. “It’s good beer. You just don’t appreciate hops.”

Marcus laughed. “Guess I’ll try the soap.”

She tossed him a can. He caught it one-handed and popped the tab. Took a sip, grimaced.

“Yep. That’s soap.”

John smiled, but his eyes stayed on the screen. He wasn’t reading anything.

Claire flopped onto the couch next to him — close, but not touching. She tucked her legs under herself, and her shorts rode up. John noticed. So did Marcus.

“So,” Marcus said, leaning on the kitchen counter, “you guys been living together long?”

“Couple months,” John said.

“Serious?”

“Pretty serious,” Claire answered, glancing at John like it was a question.

“That’s cool. Young love. Dangerous stuff.”

“Why’s it dangerous?” Claire asked.

“Because people think they know each other at this age. They don’t.” He took another sip. “They just know what they want the other person to be.”

That hung in the air for a beat too long.

John closed his laptop and set it aside.

“You psychoanalyzing us already?” he asked, half-joking.

**“Nah, man. Just seen stuff. My cousin got married at 22. Thought he had it all figured out.” Marcus smiled without warmth. “Didn’t last two years.”

Claire raised an eyebrow. “Because of what — cheating?”

“Because she realized she liked attention. And he realized he didn’t like sharing.”

John caught the look Claire gave him — unreadable, like a card held just out of sight.

“We’re not like that,” John said.

Marcus nodded, but didn’t speak.

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