Claimed By My Savior Roommate

My boyfriend always had this habit of whispering sweet nothings into my ear after he thought Id fallen asleep. Little things. Baby. Wifey. I love you so much.

I had caught him doing it a few times before, but I was always too exhausted to keep my eyes open, letting the exhaustion pull me under.

Tonight, though, I wanted to tease him. I kept my breathing even, feigning sleep.

Right on cue, his voice dropped into that low, soulful register. "Sweetheart. I love you the most..."

My heart melted into a puddle. I cracked my eyes open, throwing my arms wide to pull him into a massive, suffocating hug.

Only to find him staring at the glowing screen of his phone, his thumb holding down the voice memo button on iMessage.

01

My arms hung suspended in the dark. To hug, or not to hug.

Time seemed to freeze in our dimly lit bedroom. It would have stayed frozen, too, if Tyler hadn't suddenly looked up, his eyes going wide with sheer panic.

He shoved the phone behind his back so fast I heard his elbow crack against the headboard. His mouth opened and closed, but no actual words came out.

Slowly, I retracted my awkward, hovering arms. I shoved down the sudden, violent spike of adrenaline in my chest and forced a painfully calm smile. "Who are you sending voice notes to?"

Tyler scooted backward, pressing himself against the wall. "Harper... it's not what you think..."

"Give me the phone."

He let out a hollow, synthetic laugh. "Haha, come on, I was just messing around with the boys!"

"I said, give me the phone."

What happened next genuinely blew my mind. In the span of three seconds, Tylers expression underwent a masterclass in manipulation. When he looked back up at me, his face was a perfectly calibrated mix of thirty percent innocent, forty percent pathetic, and thirty percent deeply offended.

His voice actually trembled when he spoke. "Harper! It's for my work! Is this really the kind of person you think I am?"

I didn't quite understand the sheer audacity of it, but I was spectacularly awestruck.

"Tyler, let's get one thing straight. You're the one sexting someone else in our bed. Who exactly gave you the audacity to point the finger at me?"

I was so furiously angry that a laugh tore out of my throat. I actually started clapping, offering a slow ovation for his performance.

I had to admit, the way the corners of his eyes flushed pink, the way his unshed tears caught the bedside lighthe looked beautiful. If he didn't, I never would have given him the time of day to begin with.

He was a D-list TikTok thirst-trap, a guy who built an audience by flexing his abs and looking pretty for the camera. He had slid into my DMs claiming he was "obsessed" with the menswear I designed, asking to borrow a few pieces for a shoot. He borrowed the clothes, and eventually, he borrowed his way into my apartment.

I was not a woman who believed in love.

But Tyler... Tyler was relentless. He was the Good morning, the Did you eat?, the Goodnight texts. He was the one who always had to send the last message. He remembered Valentine's Day, our anniversaries, the little mundane milestones, slowly, painstakingly building a glittering illusion of romance around me.

And now, with his own hands, he had shattered it.

My chest felt like it had been carved out with a rusted spoon, but I have always been fiercely proud.

I never believed in it anyway, I told myself. Tyler just slipped up and let the mask drop. He was nothing but a harsh lesson, a cosmic reminder that I was right to never expect anything from love. He was an empty, vacuous thing wrapped in attractive packaging. He was a songbird I kept in a gilded cage, and if the bird couldn't stay loyal, I simply wouldn't keep him.

I am the one throwing him away.

I repeated the mantra in my head, desperately trying to convince myself, but the tears blurred my vision anyway, hot and entirely out of my control.

"Harper, please..." Tyler leaned in, trying to use his usual boyish charm to coax me down.

Except this time, I took a step back. I dodged him.

"I messed up. I swear on my life I'll never do it again, okay?"

I crossed my arms defensively over my chest, staring at him. I let the silence stretch out, heavy and suffocating.

Tyler abruptly grabbed the water glass from the nightstand and hurled it onto the hardwood floor. It shattered into a hundred pieces. "Fine! Then let's break up!"

"Done."

My immediate, icy response must have stung his fragile ego. He looked stunned, and then, like a petulant toddler throwing a tantrum, he screamed, "Get the hell out! I never want to see you again!"

I rolled my eyes, turned on my heel, and marched out to the living room to pack my bags.

As a freelance fashion designer hustling from the ground up, I was constantly flying between coasts, living out of suitcases. I barely spent any time at home. If the post-pandemic industry slowdown hadn't forced me to take a breather, I never would have been home long enough to discover my boyfriend's little secret.

I didn't have much unpacked anyway. It took me exactly ten minutes to zip up my duffel bag.

But right as my hand hit the front doorknob, I froze.

Wait a damn minute. I pay the rent on this apartment!

The realization hit me like a freight train, followed instantly by a wave of pure rage. I dropped my bag with a heavy thud and marched right back into the bedroom.

When Tyler saw me walk back in, the corner of his mouth twitched upward into a smug little smirk. He fully believed Id changed my mind, that I couldn't bear to leave him.

Once upon a time, I thought his boyish arrogance was somewhat endearing. Now, I just wondered how someone so young could be so utterly repulsive.

I mirrored his smile, drew in a deep breath from my diaphragm, and said, "Get the hell out."

02

The more I compromised, the more I felt like a fool.

Standing in the center of my apartment, everywhere I looked, I saw traces of Tyler. Worse, the intrusive thoughts began to spiral: What if, while I was traveling for work, he brought other women back here? Into this bed?

I physically recoiled from the mattress. The hair on the back of my neck stood up.

Ugh! I was so angry. I shouldn't have just kicked him out; I should have cursed him to hell and back and slapped that smug look off his face!

And so, at two in the morning, I found myself rage-cleaning. I was crying, violently scrubbing the counters, and tossing all my bedsheets into the washing machine on the hottest cycle.

Work had been practically stagnant lately. Life was already hard enough. Why the hell was I volunteering to suffer over love?

"Smart women don't catch feelings, they catch flights. Single, thriving, and building an empire!"

Chanting this newly adopted life motto, I threw a couple of clean sweatshirts over my bare mattress and finally cried myself to sleep.

The next morning, I was violently jolted awake by a FaceTime call from my best friend.

I had texted her in the middle of the night to tell her I got cheated on. The second she woke up at ten a.m. and saw the message, she called. Thats the thing about true best friends; they show up when your world falls apart.

"Hey," I croaked, my eyes swollen to the size of golf balls. Even through the blur, I could see Blair looking at her screen like shed just seen a ghost.

"Holy shit! Harper, did you get jumped?"

"Shut up. I'm mourning the death of my love life, do you mind?"

She scoffed. "No, you're looking at this all wrong. Ending a toxic relationship is a cause for celebration! I told you from day one that Tyler was a walking red flag..."

She caught the bleak look on my face and quickly pivoted. "Okay, fine, fine, we can mourn. But I'm taking you to a much better place to do it!"

An hour later, standing on the edge of a literal cliff with the wind violently whipping my hair across my face, I realized I didn't know my best friend at all.

When she said she was taking me out for a "plunge," I assumed she meant that new subterranean speakeasy downtown. Bars. Cocktails. Dim lighting. Because of this assumption, I had spent an hour doing a full beat of makeup and poured myself into a custom-designed, emerald-green silk playsuit. It hugged every curve, the deep v-neck toeing the line between elegant and dangerous.

Instead, Blair drove us two hours upstate to a gorge. To go bungee jumping.

Cocktails and cliffs. Vastly different dress codes.

Blair spent a solid minute looking me up and down. "Well. Thank God you wore shorts."

I knew what she meantyou can't exactly strap into a harness in a miniskirtbut a few guys in the line next to us still let out low, sleazy chuckles.

Instinctively, I whipped my head around to glare at whichever creep was laughing, but my eyes instantly locked onto someone else.

He was taller than the rest of the guys in line. The kind of tall that commands a room without trying. He was wearing casual clothes, but as a designer, I understood the architecture of fabric; from the way his shirt draped across his shoulders and chest, I could tell he was built like a god. He had the natural, effortless proportions of a runway model, possessing more raw magnetism than any professional Id ever dressed.

It's an occupational hazard. When I see a perfect canvas, I stare.

Sensing my eyes on him, he looked right back at me.

Suddenly, the tips of his ears twitchedthe smallest, most imperceptible movement, like a golden retriever spotting its owner.

The tiny detail delighted me. The corner of my mouth hooked up into a brazen smirk.

He immediately brought a large, long-fingered hand up to cover his right ear, ducking his head slightly as a dark, dusty pink began to spread across his cheekbones.

Blair aggressively elbowed my ribs, grinning like a menace. "Oh, he's a ten. Let me wingman this for you."

Her eyes were practically stripping the poor guy naked. I quickly grabbed her arm and dragged her forward before she could embarrass me further.

Unfortunately, the universe has a sick sense of humor. We had paid for a tandem jump because Blair claimed she was too scared to go alone. But the second we stepped onto the metal grating of the platform and she looked down into the gaping chasm below, she dug her heels in. She refused to jump.

Almost everyone else was paired up. If I didn't find a partner, Id have to take off the harness and do the walk of shame back to the car.

The instructor asked the crowd three times if anyone wanted to tandem jump with me. I saw a few of the sleazy guys eyeing me, thankfully held back by their glaring girlfriends.

Just as I accepted that I had driven two hours upstate for nothing, the gorgeous guy stepped out of the crowd.

"I'll jump with her."

His voice was a deep, gravelly timbre that went straight to my knees.

"Step closer to him!" the instructor barked.

"Hold on tight!"

03

The instructor kept yelling at us, but we were standing so rigidly apart you could have driven a Honda Civic between us.

Suddenly, Blair planted her hands on my lower back and shoved me forward.

I collided hard against his chest. Maybe it was his solid muscle, or maybe it was my own momentum, but we actually bounced off each other for a second before his arms came up.

It was a strange, electric sensation. My cheeks felt like they were on fire.

Despite being with Tyler for a long time, our physical intimacy had been incredibly sparse.

It stemmed from trauma. My mother had gotten pregnant with me out of wedlock before marrying my father, and she spent my entire childhood enduring the subtle, biting contempt of his family. Because of that environment, I grew up with a deep-seated, psychological aversion to letting men touch me.

Tyler had tried, of course. He would put on the tacky lingerie sets he modeled online and parade around the bedroom. But all I could ever think about was how the stitching was uneven, how the structural integrity of the garment failed to support the torso, and how the fabric choice was cheap.

I had worried about frustrating him. I had even quietly resolved to finally sleep with him next month for his birthday, and then...

Thinking about it now, a bitter laugh bubbled up in my throat. Tyler wasn't exactly suffering in my absence. He clearly had plenty of other girls keeping his bed warm.

Suddenly, two massive hands gripped my waist. He pulled me flush against his body.

He's so hot. Literally. He felt like a furnace.

Before I could process it, gravity vanished. We plummeted.

I always thought I wasn't afraid of dying. I thought I was cynical enough to accept the end. But as the wind ripped the air from my lungs, every biological instinct screamed, Survive!

Fueled by sheer terror, I locked my arms around his neck, burying my face in his chest, clinging to him like if I pressed hard enough, I could fuse my skeleton with his and somehow be safer.

A bungee jump only lasts a few seconds, but when you're in freefall, time dilates into a terrifying eternity.

Every time the cord snapped taut and we rebounded, I felt the heavy thud of his chest and heard a low, muffled groan rumble in his throat. I was mortified, but I was way too terrified to let go.

Realizing he was making noise, he bit down hard on his lower lip to stifle it.

Seeing his lips bruised to a dark, flush red made my face burn even hotter.

When we were finally hauled back up, I had to sit on a nearby bench for ten minutes just to stop my legs from shaking. My jumping partner had vanished the second our boots touched solid ground.

Damn. I should have asked for his Instagram, I thought, a wave of disappointment washing over me.

I slapped both hands against my cheeks. Pull it together, Harper. What the hell is wrong with you today?

A cold bottle of water suddenly appeared in my line of sight.

I traced the arm holding it all the way up to his perfectly sculpted face.

"Thank you," I said softly. I took the water, noticing the cap had already been cracked open for me. I took a small sip, then pressed the condensation-covered plastic against my burning cheek.

It was too hot out here.

"Let me get your Venmo. I'll pay you back for this," I said, mustering my courage. "Everything at these tourist traps is a rip-off."

He froze, looking at me like a deer in headlights, before frantically waving his hands. "No, no, it's not expensive! I can afford it."

His panicked desperation to assure me he wasn't broke was equally endearing and frustrating.

I blinked, then let out a soft laugh.

Sometimes, men used awkwardness as a shield. He clearly knew I was trying to get his contact info and was politely shutting me down. He probably had a girlfriend and didn't want the drama.

Thinking about that, my crush on him deepened a little, even as my heart sank. There were genuinely good men in the world; my mother and I just had the rotten luck of never running into them.

Blair finally came bounding over, looking entirely too pleased with herself as she unzipped her massive backpack.

It was packed with craft beers and heavy snacks. No wonder she had complained about it weighing a ton when I offered to carry it earlier.

"Are we having a picnic, Blair? Seriously?" I asked through gritted teeth.

She ignored my murderous glare and immediately turned her aggressive friendliness onto the guy. "It's way too heavy to hike back down with! Harper, you know how kind I am, I'm just forcing us to drink it to save your back. Come on, handsome, sit with us!"

I fully expected him to make an excuse and leave. Instead, he stood there, genuinely contemplating it, before nodding seriously. "It is too heavy to carry back."

I'm usually a happy drunk. The only problem is that alcohol destroys my verbal filter.

Three beers in, I completely forgot there was a stranger sitting with us. The fresh memory of Tyler's betrayal came crashing down, and the floodgates opened.

I ended up burying my face in Blair's shoulder, sobbing uncontrollably.

"Blair, is this karma? Did I reject too many guys in college? Was I too mean? Is that why the universe cursed me with a walking red flag the second I graduated?"

Blair patted my back, looking at me with a mix of pity and exasperation. "I told you to be nicer. You could have just strung a few along for the ego boost, like everyone else does! College is supposed to be fun, but you chose to be a nun. Who are you blaming now?"

"Wait. You didn't have a boyfriend in college?"

A deep, quiet voice cut through my tears.

I sniffled, pulling back to look at his face. Through my blurry, tear-filled vision, I gave him a deeply serious answer. "No!"

04

A sudden, striking light flared in his eyes. "You didn't?" he murmured to himself.

"Wait a minute," Blair interjected, zeroing in on him. "Why would you assume she had a boyfriend in college?"

He stared at me for a long time. His eyes were dark, unreadable, and intensely focused.

I tilted my head, waiting for his answer.

Finally, a slow, devastating smile broke across his face. "Just a guess."

Oh, God. My heart skipped a violent beat.

It was a genuine, unguarded smile. It transformed his already perfect face, making the sharp angles softer. The slight curve of his eyes made him look boyish and incredibly warm. It felt like the sun coming out from behind a cloud.

Staring at beautiful men was clearly good for the soul. I felt spiritually cleansed.

Halfway through the afternoon, Blair wandered off to find a bathroom. When ten minutes passed and she hadn't returned, I got anxious and decided to go look for her.

My face was still warm from the alcohol, but I wasn't drunk anymore. I was lingering in that pleasant, hazy space between tipsy and entirely lucid.

"Do you want me to come with you?" He started to stand up, concern etching his brow.

I was fast. Before he could fully rise, I planted a hand firmly on his shoulder, pressing him back onto the picnic blanket. I told him to stay and guard the bags.

It was weird. This was the first time wed ever met, but there was an inexplicable familiarity to him. I didn't even know his name yet, but my intuition screamed that he was the safest person on this mountain.

I shook my head, marveling at how strange human connection was. You can see someone every day for years and feel miles apart, or you can meet a stranger and feel like you've known them for a lifetime.

It was a shame I hadn't met him sooner.

The dirt trails leading into the woods were uneven and rocky. I slipped my expensive heels off, carrying them by the straps, and walked barefoot against the cool earth.

I swayed slightly, taking deep breaths of the pine-scented air. With every exhale, it felt like the heavy knot of grief in my chest was loosening.

Cell service in the mountains was practically nonexistent. I walked for ten minutes and couldn't find the bathrooms. When I realized the path was getting narrower and the crowds had completely disappeared, a spike of anxiety hit me. I had wandered off the main trail. I spun around to head back.

But as I rounded a bend, three men stepped out from the trees, blocking my path.

The leader had bleached blonde hair and a cigarette dangling from the corner of his mouth. He looked me up and down, his eyes lingering on the deep cut of my silk playsuit. "You lost, sweetheart? Want us to escort you back?"

He reached a hand out toward my arm.

I took a sharp step back, forcing my voice to stay level. "No. Thank you."

I kept my eyes pinned to the dirt, trying to sidestep them, but they shifted, forming a wall.

"Hahaha! Did you hear that, boys? She's got manners!"

"Since you already thanked us, itd be rude not to show you a good time, right?"

The greasy, predatory grins on their faces made my stomach violently turn. Bile rose in my throat.

Stay calm. Stay calm.

Without breaking eye contact, I slid my hand behind my back and rapidly pressed the emergency SOS button on my iPhone.

Then, I held out my phone and the gold watch on my wrist. I prayed this was just a mugging.

I forced a tight, placating smile. "Take this. Consider it a gift. I won't go to the cops, just let me walk past. Please."

The two guys in the back looked at the watch, hesitating, but the blonde leader's eyes never left my chest.

He spat his cigarette onto the dirt.

"I have never seen a girl built like this in my life. I wouldn't care if I died tomorrow, I'm taking this today."

The pure malice in his voice stripped away any illusion of safety. The hesitation in the other men vanished, replaced by the same sick, hungry look in their leader's eyes.

The situation was critical. I instantly changed tactics.

I dropped my hands, adopting a shy, submissive posture, and softly suggested that just the blonde guy take me into the denser trees.

His ego was massive. He genuinely believed his raw magnetism had won me over. He grinned ear to ear, waving off the grumbles of his friends.

I picked him for two reasons: he was the most distracted by his own lust, and he was the skinniest and shortest of the three. Against him, I actually had a fighting chance.

We walked deeper into the woods. At first, he was patient. But soon, his hands started reaching for me.

I pushed his chest back. "I have HIV!" I blurted out, praying it would kill the mood.

Instead, the adrenaline seemed to make him crazier. He laughed, a high, unhinged sound. "HIV? Let me give you an exam, then!"

He lunged forward to rip my playsuit. In a split second, I swung the heel of my shoe with everything I had, smashing it squarely into the bridge of his nose, and bolted.

"Fuck! You dead bitch! I'm going to kill you!"

The sound of his screaming alerted the other two. Heavy footsteps crashed through the brush behind me.

I ran like I had never run in my life. Sharp rocks and dead branches slashed at my bare feet, but I didn't feel it.

My brain shut down every system except one: Run!

The wind roared in my ears, but the heavy thud of their boots was gaining on me.

Suddenly, through the trees, I heard voices! The main trail was right above the embankment!

Just make it up the hill. Just make it up the hill and you're safe!

My hand reached out for the dirt ledge

And a heavy hand locked around my ankle.

"Help!"