Room for Love Read Online Free PDF Page A

relationship,” he will say—but suppress the thought.
    â€œAll right, I’ll see you later.” I hang up and look over at Courtney, who’s doing a spacey hippie dance, eyes closed, hands undulating like slow-motion butterflies above her head. It occurs to me that she might be stoned. Suddenly she drops her arms, faces me, and says, “Happy birthday lovely lovely lovely lovely—”
    â€œJacquie!” Samantha interrupts, before I find out just how many lovelys I deserve. “Courtney! S’il vous plait, listen up. I have an announcement to make.” Sam’s cheeks are flushed with champagne and her smile is so wide it might crack her champagne-flushed cheeks. Chester has put on a Madonna CD and is dancing on Spencer’s desk and Spencer is yelling at him to get down. Stella is showing Steve the last few articles for the issue.
    â€œYou guys!” Sam shouts. “Chester! Be quiet!”
    Down from Spencer’s desk, our disobedient intern saunters over and asks me if I want another piece of cake. I mime barfing violently and point at Sam. “Chester, please listen,” she scolds, as if he were six. Then she marches over to the stereo on a mission and shuts it off with a petite stomp of her designer Pumas. “Listen. Everybody!”
    We all stand at attention. “So guess what?” She pauses theatrically and we take the opportunity to fill our glasses again. Chester bumps my desk and spills my champagne. I jump up and we both grab paper towels to wipe it up.
    â€œSorry,” he says to Sam, hands full of wet napkin.
    â€œOut with it, Samantha,” Spencer suggests.
    â€œOkay, fine. You know Charlie? My … my, uh…” She claws the air with her middle and forefingers to form quotation marks. “Roommate?”
    â€œYou mean your roommate Charlie with the long lashes and luscious lips?” Steve asks. We all chuckle.
    â€œYes,” beams Sam. “Charlie with the Paul Newman baby blues and James Dean je ne sais quoi, Charlie with the darling petite chambre de bonne that he charged me suspiciously little for all these months.” She pauses for emphasis. “Well, we’re in love!”
    The room goes silent. “That’s right,” she continues, bouncing up and down, as if she is about to make an attempt at springing up to punch a hole in the ceiling with her head. “ C’est vrai! Gorgeous, sweet, wonderful Charlie, who hasn’t charged me a cent since I moved into his room a month ago, asked me to marry him! This summer! Charlie loves me. He gave me this!” She turns around and fumbles in her pocket for a second before turning dramatically to display a diamond on the ring finger of her left hand that must be at least two carats, surrounded by baby sapphires. It is huge. Beaming but solemn, she adds, “It’s the ring his grandfather gave his grandmother.”
    I plunk down in my chair, stunned. Everyone else flocks around Samantha to congratulate her and check out the rock. Another bottle of champagne pops.
    â€œThis is so Goodbye Girl! ” Chester swoons. “Roommates doing the wild thing with roommates.” Sam giggles in giddy response.
    I stare at my disorganized desk and sip the warm champagne they brought for my birthday from a plastic cup. Only Courtney refrains from the ooing and aahing to hang back and place a comforting hand on my back. This is so unfair. Sam doesn’t have boyfriends; she doesn’t date so much as collect admirers who swarm around her as she flicks them away like so many insects. And now she answers a random ad for a room in The Village Voice, and she’s engaged? I suddenly feel competitive.
    â€œDon’t take it too hard,” Courtney says. “He’ll realize how annoying she is eventually and call the whole thing off.” It’s not like Courtney to make a joke at someone else’s expense, so I force a smile at her