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Leo F*cking Hernandez. North Boston University’s star running back, notorious bachelor, and number one on my people I would murder if I could get away with it list. And now? He’s my new roommate. I used to think I loved him. But that was before I hated him. He doesn’t remember who I am, or how he made my life miserable for years. And before I unknowingly moved across the street from him, I couldn’t have cared less. I was living my life despite him and what happened that summer, chasing my dream of becoming a tattoo artist. “The Pit,” as the university so gracefully nicknamed the house he lives in with three other football players, has served as nothing more than a pain in my ass and a constant reminder of the boy who broke my heart. Watching him parade his one-night-stands in and out of it never helped, either. But with rent this cheap and so close to the tattoo shop, I’ve learned to ignore him — no matter how he’s tried to get under my skin. At least, until this summer. Because