The Suitor with OCD and Depression Chapter 1

My hot new roommate has OCD and depression.

The first time I saw him, he was downing a bottle of sleeping pills like they were candy.

I understood: "You were really hungry, huh?"

But then he saw my messy room and couldn't sleep all night.

The next day, he asked me, "Ms. Davis, can I clean your room?"

The second time, I went home to grab a file and ran into him with blood seeping from his wrist.

That afternoon, with pale lips, he showed up at my office building.

"Ms. Davis, your shirt collar is tucked in."

The third time, he left in the middle of the night. I ignored it.

But he knocked on my door anyway.

"Ms. Davis, you buttoned your pajamas wrong."

I brushed my hair back.

"Mr. Sullivan, actually, my bra is only half-clasped. Can you unhook it for me?"

* * *

I was scammed by a shady landlord. One apartment, two leases.

I grabbed the landlord by the collar right then and there.

"I said I wouldn't live with a man!"

The landlord was self-righteous.

"Come on, Ms. Davis. This location, this rent, you're lucky to have a roommate at all. Why don't you just ask me to buy the White House for two grand while you're at it?"

The next second.

The door opened.

A man, tall with long legs and a flawless face, stepped out. Except for his sickly pale skin, he was almost perfect.

He ignored us.

And left.

I swallowed hard.

Smoothed out the landlord's shirt.

And smiled: "Having a roommate is great. It'll be lively."