The Roommate Equation - Jillian Quinn Page 0,3
I would never hook up with this disgusting idiot to save a few bucks.
My nose scrunches in disgust. “No, thank you.”
He rolls his shoulders. “You can stay with me until you get things situated.”
“Absolutely not,” I spit back.
“Your choice, sweetheart. The offer is good at any time.”
“I would whore myself out on Hollywood Boulevard before I had sex with you.”
“Then, you better get packing.”
He takes a few steps backward, giving me enough room to slam the door in his stupid face.
What an asshole.
Is every man in my life a complete jerk? I spent all day dealing with my overbearing boss, who does nothing but scream and curse and bark one order after another. Then, I come home to an eviction notice, complete with Mannie and his usual bullshit. I guess I’m skipping the audition. I begged my boss to let me leave work early, and now, what’s the point in going? There’s no way I will make it on time.
A friend told me about a small role in a commercial. She knew I needed some quick cash and figured I could give it a shot. So far, my attempts to get acting gigs in Los Angeles have been unsuccessful. Everyone says I’m too thick in the thighs, too wide in the hips. My breasts are too big, and so is my ass. By Hollywood standards, I’m fat. I never thought of myself that way until I moved to this damn city.
And now, I have to call my brother.
Sloan will give me a place to stay without a second thought. Even if he brings women home, the house is large enough that I would never see them.
But there’s one problem.
A massive issue I can’t escape.
I will have to live under the same roof as Dylan Banks. After what he did five years ago, I can’t stand to be in the same room as him, let alone share a house, sit in the same kitchen, and eat the same food.
No, I can’t deal with him.
And they live in Malibu.
That would mean sitting in a shit ton of traffic to get to work every day, which would also mean more money for gas. But I guess there’s an upside. They live on the beach, so at least I would have a nice view after a hard day at work. I could soak up the salty sea air and sit in a hammock by the pool.
I remove my cell phone from my pocket and call my brother.
Sloan has no clue about Dylan and me.
And now, everything is different.
We can’t even look at each other.
We barely even speak to each other.
Because a lot more than a kiss occurred that night, and what happened afterward changed everything.
Chapter Three
Dylan
I nudge Sloan in the side with my elbow and laugh at the idiot on the opposite side of the bar. The stuck-up suit is trying to pick up a woman who has been ignoring him since he walked into the bar. By the looks of it, she could use our help.
I point a finger at the woman. “Think we should save her from him? She looks like she could Date Crashers right about now.”
A man dressed in a sleek, tailored suit leans over a beautiful blonde, unaware of the signals she’s giving him. She shifts her weight on the stool and scans the crowded bar. Her eyes dart toward the front door and then to the bartender.
Sloan glances in their direction and rolls his shoulders. “I’d hate to break my own rules. If she wants to get rid of him, she can use our app.”
Sloan Riley has been my best friend since we were eight years old, and we have been an inseparable duo ever since. I’m the tech mastermind behind the app Date Crashers. Sloan came up with the idea after saving our friends from one too many bad dates in college.
One of our fraternity brothers said, “Dude, we need an anti-dating app to get rid of clingers,” and from there, the idea was born. We launched the app five years ago, and since then, our brand has only grown stronger.
Most people turn to online dating now, which also increases the risk of sitting through awful dates. When our customers open our app and hit the Crash My Date icon, a Crasher receives an alert with the GPS location from the Ditcher’s cell phone and comes to their aid. It’s that simple. I thought it was a ridiculous idea when Sloan first mentioned it to me. But