Dedication

  For anyone who doesn’t know what they deserve.

  Only good things, I promise.

  Contents

  Cover

  Title Page

  Dedication

  Author’s Note

  One

  Two

  Three

  Four

  Five

  Six

  Seven

  Eight

  Nine

  Ten

  Eleven

  Twelve

  Thirteen

  Fourteen

  Fifteen

  Sixteen

  Seventeen

  Eighteen

  Nineteen

  Twenty

  Twenty-One

  Twenty-Two

  Twenty-Three

  Twenty-Four

  Twenty-Five

  Twenty-Six

  Twenty-Seven

  Twenty-Eight

  Twenty-Nine

  Thirty

  Thirty-One

  Thirty-Two

  Thirty-Three

  Thirty-Four

  Thirty-Five

  Thirty-Six

  Thirty-Seven

  Thirty-Eight

  Thirty-Nine

  Forty

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgments

  About the Author

  Also by Georgia Stone

  Copyright

  About the Publisher

  Author’s Note

  Dear reader,

  I’d like to warn you about some of the heavier and more difficult topics in this book, so if you consider this kind of thing to be a spoiler, maybe skip this page.

  The Roommate Rule contains content that may be troubling for some readers, including: alcohol consumption, cancer (main character, past, no recurrence), discussions of infertility, explicit language (including blasphemy), mental health concerns and sexually explicit scenes. If any of these topics are going to be tricky for you to read about, do whatever you need to do. I’m sure I’ll see you around.

  While there are characters in this book who experience health struggles, this isn’t one of the many stories where that means things end unhappily for them. People can survive, thrive, and love after (and during!) ill health, and my characters are proof of that. And on that note, while I’ve tried my best to keep things accurate, I’m not a doctor, so please don’t take any of the medical information presented in this book as gospel. Please do, however, figure out what’s normal for you and your body. It’s all you’ve got!

  The Roommate Rule is, above all, a romance between a confident, flirtatious man and a soft, people-pleasing woman who find their way into each other’s lives at the perfect time. I really hope you enjoy hanging out with these two as much as I enjoyed writing them.

  Love,

  Georgia

  One

  do not be swayed by blue eyes and grey sweatpants

  Dylan

  I am categorically not the kind of person who would spend six weeks living with a man I’ve only met once.

  A whole year ago.

  For approximately ten minutes.

  During which he spent the entirety of our conversation drunkenly giving me The Eyes and calling me Ellen.

  And yet, a woman who looks a lot like me is at Paddington Station on this unexpectedly chilly late-August morning, goosebumps pebbling the pale skin of forever-exposed ankles while she waits for Max Monroe to arrive.

  Ava, his twin sister and one of my closest friends, texted to tell me they’re on their way, but from experience, I know this doesn’t mean much. Ava Monroe seems to have a very different definition of being ‘on the way’ from most people; one that revolves around being very much not ‘on the way’. Judging by her brother’s inability to answer my texts over the last couple of weeks in any kind of timely manner, I fear this is a family trait.

  This whole thing started a few weeks ago. Ava came to my flat, and my younger sister saw an opportunity to get her on her side in our latest argument.

  ‘Ava, tell Dyl that she cannot cancel her time off next month,’ Tahlia said, the second Ava walked through the door.

  Ava didn’t miss a beat. ‘You booked this annual leave for a reason. Take the break while you can.’

  ‘The reason being that I was supposed to be going away with Jeremy to celebrate his flashy promotion and five years together.’ I cast my mind back and added, ‘And my graduation.’

  Ava pulled a face at the mention of my ex. ‘No, the reason is that you deserve it. Also, you still graduated. Don’t sell yourself short.’

  ‘See?’ Tahlia said. ‘Ava agrees. You need to do something. Go somewhere.’

  ‘It doesn’t matter. It’s too late. Nothing is arranged, and please don’t even think about suggesting winging it, because that sounds like my idea of hell.’ I let out an exasperated sigh. ‘Besides, it’d be way too expensive to book something so last minute.’

  I’d set aside time to go away, but things kept coming up–Tahlia’s birthday, my final exams, graduation–and I never got around to planning it. It didn’t feel important. I’d just take on more shifts to save up some money before my accountancy scheme started in January, and at least that way I’d have some extra cash to put into Tahlia’s uni fund. That was good enough, for now.

  ‘Funny you say that,’ Ava said, dropping on to our worn sofa next to me, ‘because I happen to know a travel vlogger whose plus-one just dropped out of an all-expenses-paid trip, and I bet you could join. You wouldn’t have to pay for or plan it.’

  At that, something suspiciously like excitement fluttered in my stomach.

  ‘It’s a sign,’ said Tahlia, who was in a phase where quite literally everything she encountered was a sign. She danced around the living room, and I got a glimpse of the kid whose homework I’d help with at our wobbly dining table, and then stopped in her tracks. ‘Just to clarify, the travel vlogger in question is Hot Max, right?’

  That would’ve been a great moment for the sofa cushions to swallow me, but alas, I was not so lucky. Ava didn’t need to know that, fine, when I briefly met her brother at her housewarming party last year, I concluded that he was an objectively handsome, if obnoxious, man, and this may have come up briefly in conversation with Tahlia afterwards, who proceeded to become one of the many hundreds of thousands of people who followed him on social media.

  ‘I don’t know any Hot Maxes,’ Ava said flatly. ‘My brother Max, however, was just telling me about it the other day–it’s six weeks at some eco-lodge in Wales. The owners are getting influencers to create a bunch of content and promote it before they reopen to the public after a refurbishment, I think.’

  ‘I can’t take six weeks off work,’ I point out.

  ‘Please,’ Ava scoffed, ‘the coffee shop will take you back. And if they don’t, plenty more places would have you in a heartbeat.’

  I ignored her self-satisfied smirk. Instead, I checked my mental calendar and said, ‘Tahlia, I’d miss move-in day. I promised I’d help settle you in at uni, didn’t I?’

  ‘Stop looking for excuses. I’ll be fine. Mum or Dad can help me move.’ She stepped in front of me and looked down, a challenge in her voice. ‘Look, it’s a free trip. You’d be silly not to take it. And I can tell you actually do want to go, because if you didn’t, you wouldn’t be asking so many questions and trying to figure out logistics. So quit your job. Cause a ruckus. Have fun.’

  If there is a person on Earth less likely to cause a ruckus than me, I am yet to meet them.

  ‘Hey,’ Ava said, elbowing me lightly in the ribs in an uncharacteristic display of physical contact, ‘don’t let your ex bailing on you be the reason you don’t do something you’ve always wanted to do, okay? This is the only piece of downtime you’ve got scheduled for the next decade. Might as well make the most of it.’

  She had a point. I’d always wanted to see more of the world, the country, anywhere that wasn’t my own front yard, and the trip with Jeremy was supposed to do that. If nothing else, this could take me somewhere new, just for a short time.

  I wanted to say yes, but there was one final hurdle. ‘You haven’t even asked your brother if it’s okay yet.’

  ‘Let’s find out, then,’ Ava pulled her phone out to send a text, and moments later, a reply came through. She turned her screen to me with a raised eyebrow.

  Max: Works for me, send me her info

  All I remember thinking is: That is not normal behaviour, because who agrees to spend six weeks living with a stranger after thinking it over for approximately three seconds?

  But the answer to that is me, apparently, because here I am, waiting by a pillar on the station concourse with a giant suitcase, simultaneously keeping an eye out for Ava and her brother, and refusing to meet the gaze of anyone who so much as glances my way.

  Because while Tahlia dreams of having all eyes on her, my efforts to be a wallflower are decidedly less effective than I’d like. I get the classics, of course. Wow, how tall are you? (Six feet, on a short day.) You must be a model. (You must be joking.) Do you play basketball? (Netball, actually, and only until I found out how many extra shifts my mum was taking to pay for it.)

  So when my phone buzzes with rapidly concurrent texts that can only be from my sister, I’m grateful for the excuse to look down and hide my face behind a dark-blonde curtain of hair.

  Tahlia: have the best time!!!

  Tahlia: is hot max™ there yet

  Tahlia: send me pics of him

  Dylan: Thank you, and
no

  Dylan: And . . . also no, I will not be doing that

  Dylan: That’s weird

  I should never have done a deep dive into Max’s content with her. Because yes, he does have a face that is well suited to being in front of a camera; something almost five hundred thousand people seem to agree on. But he also has an arrogance that tells me he’s never been told ‘no’ in his life, and it probably comes from having that sort of face.

  His earliest work was cinematic: combinations of tiny details and vast, sweeping shots, and an impressive ability to mimic a place’s atmosphere through the screen. It’s no wonder those videos caught people’s attention back then; they were works of art.

  But there was a point, maybe seven or eight years ago, when he changed his style. Since then, he’s included himself in videos more, with snappy vlogs that move so quickly you need to watch them twice to get every detail (probably some engagement tactic), usually with flashes of incredible views, some quippy joke, and a few ‘candid’ shots of him. If the likes he now gets and the frequency of his sponsored posts are anything to go by, the switch-up was a good business move.

  Tahlia: what if he posts you

  Dylan: That’s what I’m worried about

  Tahlia: i’ll show my uni friends and say i know a famous person

  Tahlia: just went to his profile and turned his post notifications on

  Dylan: Once again, bit weird

  Tahlia: you love it

  Dylan: I do ♥️

  Tahlia: speaking of i do

  Tahlia: can i be maid of honour at your wedding?

  Dylan: You’re so lucky I like you

  My fingers find their way to the fraying threads of the friendship bracelet we both got at a sleepy seaside town on the south coast a few years ago. Tahlia’s my favourite person in the world, and even just thinking about how I’m going to come home to a flat she doesn’t live in anymore is making my nerves skyrocket. It’s always been us against the world.

  Tahlia: i look best in green btw

  Tahlia: i’ll add some ideas to your pinterest board

  There’s no point denying the existence of a Pinterest board; she’s definitely seen it. Seen me meticulously, if a little soullessly, add things to a range of boards over the years. Career, wedding, house, life.

  I catch a flash of blonde in my periphery and look up, half expecting to see my ex, as if I might’ve conjured him up just by thinking about that wedding board. That was where I thought we were headed. Four and a half years of laying foundations and making picture-perfect plans.

  But the blonde guy who passes by isn’t Jeremy; it’s just another clean-shaven man in a well-cut suit and a walk that makes it seem like he has somewhere important to be.

  What Tahlia doesn’t know is that I have another board, one I only look at when I’m feeling a little wistful. A cosy café. The seaside. Sunrise. A life so different from the one I’m in. One I’ve never even tried.

  Maybe that’s why I committed to this trip in the end. It wasn’t just Ava’s and Tahlia’s persistence. I want a taste of that life before I’m pulled back to the one I’ve worked so hard for, with clear goalposts and plans and stability.

  I glance up from my phone at the sound of a familiar laugh. There’s Ava, whose scowl tells me she’d rather be anywhere but here on an early Saturday morning, and her boyfriend Finn, bright-eyed behind his glasses and the source of the sound. Then there’s Max bringing up the rear, at least half a head taller than the others. Significantly taller than me, even.

  Almost-black hair peeks out from the hood of his baggy heather-grey jumper, a giant backpack hangs from his shoulder, and charcoal sweatpants meet the dirty Converse on his feet. He lifts his chin when he spots me, locking me in place with deep blue eyes and a sly smile that pulls at one side of his face. Alarm bells go off in my head at the sight of him.

  ‘Sorry we’re late,’ Finn says with a grimace and an unsubtle glance at the Monroe siblings.

  ‘No worries,’ I reply, though I have, notably, been worrying for the past half-hour. But I’ve spent years working in the service industry, so if there’s one thing I know how to do, it’s greet people with a smile. ‘Nice to properly meet you, Max.’

  He drops his hood to reveal a sharp-angled face and rakes his fingers through hair that sticks up in all directions but somehow looks intentional. He strikes me as the kind of man who never went through an awkward phase. The worst of his teen years probably came from a rapid growth spurt that made him lankier than his friends. Now, amidst the slow-moving foot traffic of the station, he’s an unlikely combination of perfectly straight-backed and impossibly relaxed. Not an ounce of poor posture. This man has never hunched his shoulders in his life. I might resent him for that alone.

  ‘Hey roomie,’ he says, voice low. He reaches out his hand for me to shake, and his grip is strong, warm skin rougher than I would’ve expected.

  I’m very distracted by the way his eyes are sweeping over me. He’s not even being discreet about it, and it sends heat to my cheeks. When he releases my hand, his mouth twitches.

  ‘What’s the plan for the journey?’ Finn asks, and I suddenly remember there are other people around.

  ‘We’ll get this train to Pembroke,’ Max says, sliding his backpack off his shoulder to drop it on the floor next to my shiny new suitcase. Which, now I’m looking at it, doesn’t feel very world traveller of me. But I guess Wales isn’t exactly a typical world-traveller destination, so that can be my excuse. ‘Then there’s a shuttle to the resort.’

  I know this, of course. I could recite the brochure word for word. After a week of radio silence following me asking for it, Max finally sent it, accompanied by a voice note instead of a text, which felt weirdly intimate, and I’ve gone over it at least twenty times since.

  ‘You two really didn’t need to send us off,’ Max says. ‘I’m sure Dylan and I could’ve handled this alone.’

  ‘We wanted to,’ Finn says with a shrug, a curl flopping on to his forehead with the movement.

  Ava peers at him, brow furrowed, her messy ponytail skewed to one side. ‘Did we? I don’t even remember discussing it–you just woke me up and told me we had to leave.’

  ‘We did discuss it,’ Finn says easily. ‘I believe you said something along the lines of, “I would rather gouge my eyes out with a spoon than go to Paddington fucking Station early in the morning on one of my days off to wave goodbye like he’s leaving forever and not just spending six weeks in the middle of a fucking forest learning what it’s like to be at one with nature and figuring out how to turn shit into bird feed.”’

  ‘That joie de vivre does sound like you, to be fair,’ Max reasons, and I let out a quiet laugh. His eyes find mine in a flash, and I lower my gaze immediately. ‘And it’s the coast, not a forest.’

  ‘Whatever. It’s still far too much time outside for my liking.’

  ‘Which is why I didn’t even think about asking you to be my plus-one,’ Max says.

  * * *

  ‘If it means anything, Dyl,’ Ava says, looking at me, ‘he’s actually a pretty good travel companion. If our childhood camping trips are anything to go by, he’ll just sleep on the way. No endless chatting in your ear while you’re quietly trying to play solitaire on your eleven-hour flight.’ Her eyes flick to Finn. ‘Solitaire. A card game for one person. Not two. Hence the name.’

  Finn blows Ava a kiss and she pretends to dodge it. When he barks out a laugh in response, she bites down a grin. Something behind my sternum aches at the interaction.

  Ever since they got together at the end of last year, and even before that, Ava and Finn have had this ease about them. That’s what I need, I think. Something easy and simple and comfortable, where the love is loud in everything we do, even when we’re bickering.

  Ava retreats a few steps to peer up at the departure board. ‘You’ve still got about fifteen minutes. Does anyone want a coffee? I’m only going to ask once, so don’t be polite.’

  ‘I wouldn’t say no,’ Max says, stretching his arms with a groan. He tilts his head and catches my eye. ‘Yeah, definitely wouldn’t say no.’

  His mouth twitches again, like he can somehow see the flip of my stomach.