“I heard from James that Carson is looking for a roommate.”

I jerked slightly and frowned. “Carson Hill? The same Carson who now plays for the Boston Knightwings and probably got a sick starting bonus? Why on Earth would he be looking for a roommate?”

“Obviously he doesn’t need the money, but here’s what definitely makes sense,” she balled her hands into fists and pumped them in the air, “he’s looking for a female roommate.”

“Ew.”

“What? You just lived with a guy for like a year.”

“Bells, he’s clearly looking for a live-in groupie to do his laundry and cook for him. Someone needs to tell him to get with the fucking times, hire a maid and stop trying to play it off.”

“You don’t know that,” she defended, lowering her hands to her hips.

“Why else then?”

She raised a brow and deepened her tone. “I have a few ideas…”

I scrunched my face. “My ‘ew’ still stands.”

Truthfully, I never thought Carson would stoop that low in his life. He didn’t seem the type. As if he didn’t get enough attention from female fans, he needed to put out an ad for a live-in cheerleader to sing his praises?

“So,” Bells went on, “he’s keeping this on the super down low. James only told me because he knows you’re back in town and looking for a place.”

James and Carson had been friends since sophomore year at BU. He was a year younger than all of us and played on the BU hockey team. He didn’t go to our high school, but he and Carson hit it off right away on the ice.

“I told him there’s no way you’d ever.” She waved a hand. “You’d be an unlikely candidate. Since, you know, you could barely form a sentence around the guy in high school.”

“You did not say that to him.”

“No, or course not. But seriously. I think you should consider it.”

You could vote me right now as ‘least likely to ever consider living with Carson Hill’.

“I’m not going to consider anything that sounds like total bogus.”

She huffed and stood. “Alright, well get up off your ass, we’re going out tonight.”

“No. I’ve had enough fun this past year. I need to sit here and look for work, and,” I opened my laptop with anticipation, “I found all these roommate wanted ads on the BU blog. I’m hitting these up tonight.”

Bells pushed my laptop shut as if I’d offended her in some way. “Get dressed. This is the perfect time for you to get out and see your old crew.”

“You mean your old crew,” I muttered.