Chapter 3
Living with someone as cheap as Eric was like running an emotional marathon every single day, except the finish line kept moving.
I'd convinced myself that the ridiculous contract was Eric's way of messing with me. But the very next night, reality hit hard.
He wasn't joking. Not even a little.
After grinding through overtime, I finally dragged myself back to my so-called new home, desperate for a hot bath to rinse off the day.
Steam filled the bathroom. Warm water melted the tension from my shoulders. For the first time in hours, I felt human again.
I was actually humming, drifting off into that blissful state between awake and asleep, when the bathroom door rattled with a sharp knock.
"Laura. Your fifteen minutes are up." Eric's voice cut through the door like icicles.
My eyes flew open. I checked my waterproof watch. Fourteen minutes, fifty seconds.
He was literally timing me.
"Almost done! Give me two more minutes?" I scrambled to rinse off.
"No." His voice was cold and unyielding.
"Rule three. Showers are fifteen minutes maximum. You're already thirty seconds over. That's a dollar."
I couldn't believe this. Was he actually standing out there with a stopwatch, counting down my shower like it was the final lap of a race?
"Eric, do you even have a heart?" I yelled through the door.
"You'll find out when you see your paycheck tomorrow. One minute now. Three dollars."
His voice was emotionless, like he was reciting a fact.
I gave up. Arguing with a human calculator was pointless.
I toweled off as fast as humanly possible, wrapped myself up, and stormed out, steam practically pouring off me along with the anger.
And of course, Eric stood right there, phone in hand, stopwatch app glowing with bright red digits. 02:13.
"Two minutes and thirteen seconds. I'll round it down to two minutes. A six bucks fine," Eric said, his tone flat as ever.
He pulled up his notes app like he'd done this a thousand times and started typing. "Laura. Shower over time. Six dollars."
I stared at his annoyingly perfect face, then at that phone screen like it held my death warrant. Frustration clawed at my throat.
If looks could kill, he'd be six feet under.
I gritted my teeth and marched past him to my room, feeling like I'd lost a war.
And that was only the beginning.
*****
The weekend finally arrived. No overtime. No clients screaming at me. I decided to treat myself and ordered takeout.
A thick-crust pizza with cheese. Just thinking about it made my mouth water.
When the pizza finally showed up, I was about to dig in when Eric materialized out of nowhere like a ghost with opinions.
He frowned at the giant pizza box in front of me, as if it had personally offended him.
"Laura. Do you have any idea how many resources go into making a pizza box like that?"
I shoveled food into my mouth. "Nope. Don't care."
He ignored me completely and kept going, like I hadn't spoken at all.
"Those pizza boxes are made of wood. It cut down millions of trees. And the manufacturing process alone pumps tons of carbon into the atmosphere.
"And takeout is expensive and unhealthy. There is too much oil and salt. You're basically paying someone to kill you."
He paused, then hit me with that world-weary, pitying tone like he was delivering a eulogy. "You're not wasting money. You're wasting your life too."
My hand, still clutching a piece of pizza, paused in midair.
I wanted to eat my takeout in peace. How did this turn into a lecture on my finances and mortality?
"Eric." I put down my fork and looked him dead in the eye. "Don't you think you're being a little too involved here?
"We're roommates. You're not my mentor."
He adjusted imaginary glasses with a completely serious face.
"As your landlord and temporary roommate, it's my responsibility to correct unhealthy habits.
"It's for your own good. And for the harmony of our shared living space."
I was so stunned I couldn't even find words. He left me totally speechless.
And like that, everything made sense. With a face that could launch a thousand dating app swipes, Eric was still single.
With a mouth like his, the man was practically allergic to love.