A/N: See note at end
It only takes a month, which is actually about two weeks longer than you expect.
Sabrina is the one to do it, the one to pull the plug though, in all fairness, you'd had your hand on the cord since that last day in August, when she climbed into the back of her father's car and headed off to Ohio and you moved into the dorm at UTA so, really, it's not like you're going to spend every night for the next week crying into shots at Maxwell's while Sophie does her best to fend off girl after girl after guy, all of them trying to be the one to mend your broken heart or, at least, fill that empty spot in your bed.
It's only three days, not a week, and Sophie does do her best, but she misses one, a redhead named Elsie and no, she doesn't remind you of anyone - as over Sabrina as you already are, you're like ten times that over… her… - and the next morning, once Sophie comes back to the room and you manage to shuffle Elsie out the door (and it takes forever cause she can't take a hint), you collapse back onto your bed, exhausted (you were up late) (and then up again later) just in time for Sophie to drill you in the head with a pillow and remind you of Rule Three.
No hookups after breakups.
She's got a point, but so do you, right there in Rule Four.
Ignore Rule Three if said hookup is at least twice as hot as said breakup.
Elsie wasn't all that bright and you're going to regret her later (like when she's calling you and texting you and snapping you and tweeting you and you have to change your number and you think about moving, like out of the state) but she was twice as hot.
Not that hotness is all that matters, it's really not and you know that, but it's been two and a half years since you had a little strange (thank you Shane Harvey for putting that in your head) and, from a purely ego standpoint, it's nice to think you've still got it. You know, what with getting dumped and all.
You weren't very surprised when the call came, even less so when Sabrina cried her way through twenty minutes of telling you what could have taken five (she was never one for doing things the easy way.) She met someone - guy or girl you don't know and you didn't ask - and no, she didn't sleep with them, but…
It's the but. Always the but. You've learned enough from two failed relationships - and one fake one - to know that. It's always the but.
I love you. But not like that.
You're the best thing to ever happen to me. But you slept with a boy and you're not sure so…
We didn't sleep together. But I wanted to and we probably will...
Always. Always the but.
You weren't surprised (by the call or the but) and you weren't all that upset, not as much as you'd thought you might be - or should be - and that did surprise you. You were more than a bit stunned (and more than bit saddened) that two and a half years, mostly happy ones and mostly good ones and mostly in love ones (and maybe the mostly should have tipped you off), could just disappear in like thirty days and that that didn't make you feel like your world was ending.
That was new.
"Back in high school," you say to Sophie, "when my ex dumped me? I crawled into a hole for weeks and it's still just this blur of doughnuts, Netflix, and Karma."
Which, come to think of it, covers most of your life - your life before Sabrina - and you're surprised, just a little, at how much you don't miss that either.
"I never told Karma," you say, ignoring the way Sophie's eyes snap up at the second mention of that name in like thirty seconds (you're over) (so over) (over the fucking rainbow over), "but it hurt more, more than when Karma rejected me, honestly, I kinda felt like I was gonna die."
Sophie looks up at you over her plate of noodles and pork. It's Thursday night (a week and a half after the call) and your usual 'roomie date' at Huan Cho's. She's staring at you, all thoughtful like and for just a moment, you think she's going to say something wise, share some sage 'I've been gay at least a year longer than you so I know my shit' advice.
"Obviously, you didn't."
She goes back to her noodles, stabbing at them with her chopsticks (and you can count down the minutes in your head till she caves and goes for the fork) and no, maybe it wasn't her most Dumbledore-esque moment.
But she's got a point.
You shake your head and flick a piece of pork into your mouth (shut up, Shane) but Sophie's done what Sophie does best, besides cracking you up at inopportune moments and having some sort of supernatural radar for when the campus cafeteria will have those amazing s'mores doughnuts.
She's made you think.
"What does that say about me?" you ask and Sophie pauses with a noodle - just one single noodle - dangling precariously from the sticks and she glares at you like 'how dare you interrupt this precision work with your silly deep thought questions?' "What does that say about the last two years of my life that losing Sabrina doesn't hurt as much as losing something that didn't even make it six months?"
Sophie tries to make it to her mouth but the noodle drops (dammit, Amy) and she sighs and waves the waitress over. "You know," she says, glaring at you and then staring at Becky, the waitress (and, soon, it will be more than staring when she and Becky - without the good hair but with a great ass - end up in a stall in the ladies while you finish your noodles - and what's left of Sophie's - and pay the check) "you have two exes now."
She smiles up at Becky as the waitress delivers her fork, their fingers brushing together as Sophie takes it and you roll your eyes (it's like living with Shane) (or Liam) (ugh) and wait for her to stop being… distracted… so she can finish.
"Where was I?" she asks, sort of turning her attention back to you, at least once Becky's ass is around the corner and out of sight. "Oh, right. Two exes." Sophie stabs a piece of pork with the fork, relishing the victory. "Remember Rule Six."
No ex shall be mentioned by name (or followed on any social media, especially Snap and Insta cause pictures) for they are not dead to us, they simply no longer exist. They are Voldemort and shall not be named for we are Hermione and let's face it, without us Harry would have totally gotten dead. Again. For good.
Rule Six has always been a favorite though there was that brief… dust up? Skirmish? Kerfuffle?... over whether it applied to Karma cause, technically, she was an ex of sorts and that little… incident… led immediately to Rule Seven and Rule Eight.
Never fake being in a relationship.
Ignore Rule Seven if said faking it is to save a roomie from a desperate clinger, annoying straight guy who can't take a hint or a previous hookup you really want to hook with again but know it would be a bad bad bad idea.
(That would come be to be known as the Elsie Amendment.)
The first, second, and fourth times you and Sophie kiss are direct results of Rule Eight and you don't talk about the third time. Like at all. Like ever.
It too is Voldemort.
But Sophie does have a point (again) so you follow the rules and Sabrina joins the list of hers that shall not be named (you have two and Sophie has four, though none are really exes cause they didn't date but she counts them just the same) and that's fine and that's good and it doesn't hurt (much) and by the time Christmas break rolls around you're actually surprised to find yourself thinking of how little you've thought of Sabrina.
"I should call her," you say. You're folding your laundry, sorting through the basket and deciding what to pack and what to leave. "Thanksgiving was one thing," you say, "I was only home for four days and the odds on running into her were teeny-tiny. But this is like a month and it would be just like, super awkward to bump into her unexpectedly, you know?"
"Awkward," Sophie says and you think she's agreeing but… "I used to like that show," she says, leaning back against on her bed. "But it got so repetitive, like really, how long can you possibly keep up that will they or won't they bullshit? Just get them together already, before you go and get fucking cancelled and then nobody's happy."
Rule Fifteen: Accept that Sophie will frequently only hear half of what you say and possibly understand even less.
"Plus, really," she says (and you swear to God, if this is another Matty-Jenna rant…) "what are the odds you're going to be anywhere you'd see her? You'll be with Karma and that's gonna take up like ninety-eight-point-eight percent of your time and then Lauren will use up another one percent and I really really really doubt either of them runs in the same social circles as… her."
"Point-Two," you say. "Karma plus Lauren still leaves that much time."
Sophie rolls onto her back, her head dangling off the edge of the bed and grins at you. "That's how much time you'll spend texting me telling me all about the other two and how much they're driving you insane and how we should totally ignore Rule Fourteen."
Rule Fourteen: School breaks are breaks from all school things including roomies so that we don't get sick of each other and so we totally have stories to share when we get back.
You laugh and toss a pair of her underwear that got mixed up with yours at her and it's moments like these that make Rule Sixteen true.
Rule Sixteen: Sophie will, on the regular, amaze you with her surprise wisdom, her unprecedented loyalty, her exceptional fashion sense, and her all around adorableness. Love her, for you have no choice.
You do love her. Sometimes (like when you're paying for two noodle dinners and she's cumming with a scream in the restroom) you're not entirely sure why, but you do.
And, in the end, she's right (though the percentages are a bit off cause college Karma is something other than Karma Karma and you're not sure if that something is a good something or not so you spend more time with Lauren cause Lauren was always college Lauren) and you don't call and you don't run into Sabrina - unexpectedly or otherwise - and you only sometimes find yourself wondering why you don't feel any disappointment about that.
You try asking Karma but she just rolls her eyes and goes back to talking about this guy she's been seeing at Clement (he's captain of some team or other and a Clement legacy and a true BMOC and so, no, her tastes haven't changed) and how much she likes him and how she's sure he's falling for her and you mostly tune out until she mentions - so fucking casually - how interesting his sister is and how much time they've been spending together and oh, by the way…
"How was it for you? You know, when you realized?"
And so maybe her tastes have changed and maybe you've changed enough to know better than to go anywhere near that.
Rule Twenty: Avoid indecisive, 'maybe I like girls' girls whenever possible.
(You've never liked that rule - for obvious reasons - and you've never really followed it but, in Karma's case? You so make an exception.)
And, if by the time you drop Karma off at the airport at the end of break, you've spotted her looking at you a little… differently… and the hug she gives you at security lingers a little more than it should (and you hadn't realized she'd gotten so strong until she wouldn't let go) you know what you have to do.
You text Sophie from the airport parking garage.
Blondie1: New rule. Next time Karma comes to visit, never leave her and me alone.
The reply comes in less than thirty seconds, dinging your phone as you climb behind the wheel.
Blondie2: We need a rule for dat? thought was a given. Dat girl pings like fucking sonar.
Blondie2: You on your way back?
You tap out a reply even as a string of messages from Karma lights your phone like a fucking Christmas tree.
Blondie1: On my way. Should be there in like twenty.
You think - for a lot less time than you might have a year ago - about reading Karma's messages but, you figure, she's on the plane by now and her phone's probably off and you've got to get to campus and you can read them tonight and really take the time to reply properly.
(You'll forget them, all of them, for the next few days but you'll have good reason.)
You're halfway to campus when Sophie's next text comes (and the one after that and the one after that) and you don't see any of them until you pull into the student lot cause no texting and driving (and cause you've got that hug on your mind and not in the 'finally, maybe she gets it' way you always thought you would.)
Blondie2: so… how was your break?
Blondie2: that's great, sounds awesome, so… listen…
Blondie2: I kinda sorta might have… well… see…
Blondie2: Yes, I know, Rule 22
Rule Twenty-Two: Learn to text like a normal person and not stretch shit out over like eight messages because you're afraid how a roomie (Amy) might react to whatever… situation… a roomie (Sophie) has ended up in now.
Blondie2: So, i… um… ikindametsomeoneandshe'sawesomeandsofreakinghot
Blondie2: and can we please ignore Rule Five?
Rule Five: If the first (or second) (or anywhere in the top five) things Sophie says about a new girl is how hot she is, this is a CODE FUCKING RED and she is to be immediately forbidden from ever seeing said new girl again.
You sit in the student lot and read it three times, making sure you're translating it right and you're not all that sure what to think cause in all the time you've known her (one semester), Sophie's never actually met anyone.
(Bathroom Becky doesn't count as a 'met'.) (Neither does Backstage Breanna or Hallway Heather or Amy's Bed Andrea.)
Blondie1: You want to ignore the rule? It was your rule!
Blondie2: I know. But she's sooooooooooooooo hot and supa f'ing cool and so damn outta my league and so can we please just ignore the rule cause she's coming to pick me up in like twenty minutes and i know we planned to catch up tonight but…
But Rule One.
Rule One: No roomie shall ever run clitorference for other roomie.
You and Sophie can catch up later and you've got those messages from Karma to answer and, really, you just hope (like with all the fingers and the toes crossed) that this girl is worth it cause you've never seen (or heard) (or read) Sophie this excited before.
Blondie1: It's fine. We can ignore the rule and you can go out but you owe me a Boston Cream and extra noodles this week.
No reply.
Still no reply.
You make it from the car to the steps of the dorm and still no reply and then your phone loses its fucking mind.
Blondie2: 911! 911! 9-1-1-!
Blondie2: Oh craaaaaap! She's here already. You were supposed to be here first to help me not be so… me. Where are you?
Blondie2: Shit shit shit. She's in the hall and I haven't answered the door but I know she's out there being all hot and WHERE ARE YOU?
You take the steps two at a time and then skip the line in front of the elevator and head up the stairs to your room (on the fourth floor and oh, it's gonna be two BC's now), tapping on your phone as you go.
Blondie1: I'm on my way. On the stairs.
Blondie1: Just open the door, Soph, it'll be fine. I'm almost there.
Blondie2: I can't! I'm freaking !
You round the corner of your hall, fingers dancing across the screen and you're not looking where you're going (and that could so be the story of your life) as you send your last message, just feet from your door.
Blondie1: Just let her in, Sophie. How bad can it possibly be?
And then you look up and realize you forgot the most important rule of all.
Never ask how bad it can be.
Your door swings open and there's Sophie and she's dyed her hair (purple, you'll realize later) and she's got a new tattoo (an anchor on her foot, and again, you'll realize later) and she's grinning from ear to fucking ear and this - to her - is perfect.
"Oh, you're both here," she says, reaching out and taking each of you by the hand and pulling you into the room and how she doesn't notice that neither of you have noticed her, you'll never know. "So," she says, handling intros like a pro. "This is Amy, my roommate, and Amy, this is Reagan, my date."
Yeah. You've met.
A/N: So, I got a lot of msgs on here about if I was ever going to do another Reamy story and I always said probably not. And this is why I said 'probably' cause this just sorta... happened. It was gonna be a one shot and then it got too long (is pushing 20k words) so, looking like about seven more chapters, IF people want it. So, yes, that means you need to tell me! I know people read cause I can see the stats, but if you like it, throw a monkey a banana (gonna use it that forever!) and let me know. And then you'll get more!