Roomie Wars Box Set (Books 1-3)

by Kat T. Masen

  “Fuck,” he grunts, sliding his middle finger inside.

  I’m done.

  It rocks me like an unexpected earthquake, every inch of me screaming in utter delight until my limbs become numb, and I collapse on the bed.

  In the midst of this euphoria I’m out of breath swallowing dry gulps of air. The tiredness becomes apparent, yet I know I need to address the fact that his fingers were in my ass at some point.

  In a minute.

  He’s pulled away somehow without me knowing. I can’t turn around, paralyzed from the head down, the tiredness overcoming my weak body.

  And like a thief in the night, his footsteps are heard, and the lights turn off.

  Perhaps this is all a dream.

  Either way, my eyelids become heavy, and sleep is imminent.

  My dreams await me, and this time, I dream of him.

  Drew.

  My roomie.

  Chapter Fourteen

  Drew

  There’s pounding and a drilling sound that’s striking every nerve in my head. I want to scream and climb into a dark place of silence. Then, I realize it’s morning, and the stupid sun is directly on my face, my eyelids red, the severe throbbing intensifying with every twitch. Barely able to open my eyes, the blinds appear to be wide open. Who the fuck left them open? Attempting to stand up is fruitless, the weight of my body overcoming my strength. With the little energy I have, I manage to throw my wallet at the window, watching it tumble across the room as hits the floor just shy of the curtains.

  Because that was a brilliant plan not unlike Zoey’s to make her ex regret his actions.

  This is how it all began—her desire to make his life hell, which in turn, has made my life hell. I remember the wedding. Remember how jealous I got and how I refused to allow him to win. It was a war, and I was standing front-row center, guns blazing. I remember smashing his face which explains why my jaw feels like a cement block was thrown at it, and my hand is bruised.

  Then Zoey told me to fuck off in the cab.

  Then blank.

  Blank and no idea why I’m lying here half-dressed on my bed. My dress pants are uncomfortable and scratching my skin. The white, collared shirt appears to have stains, which I cannot for the life of me, explain. I lift the shirt to smell it, and the strong stench of bourbon engulfs my nasal passages.

  Oh yeah—bourbon.

  Friend and foe.

  I continue to lie here for another hour attempting to ignore the persistent throb in my head. I need painkillers and yell for Zoey to bring me some. There’s no answer. Argh. Unsteady on my feet, I stumble to the bathroom and locate them inside the cupboard swallowing two and praying for an instant cure.

  This is why I rarely drink.

  A cold shower seems like a good idea, at least to wash away the nasty hangover.

  The water relaxes my aching muscles, except for the one below. Even in my exhausted state, I manage to give myself a few strokes hoping for a quick release. My hand moves accordingly, growing my cock to its peak. Without any visuals and following the escalating throb, it takes only seconds for my body to jerk forward and cum to shoot out onto the shower floor.

  Fuck. What was that?

  My heart is beating a million miles per second, my limbs barely able to hold themselves up.

  I rest my body against the cold shower tiles, slumping to the floor, catching my breath. Something inside me ignited just then. This primal need or desire to release. Usually, I’d have to go at it for a while conjuring up porn in my head. It’s like I had blue balls or something.

  As I continue to sit here questioning my body, my shaft stiffens once again. Are you kidding me? It’s like someone’s slipped me Viagra. Fuck, maybe that’s what happened. I turn off the water, hopping out and thinking of something else to distract me.

  Back in my room, I make my bed and tidy my nightstand opting to hit the gym instead of climbing back into bed. Everywhere dead quiet, and it’s odd that Zoey isn’t lounging around the apartment. But then again, her behavior has been unpredictable lately, and after last night’s failed attempt at being a couple, I’m assuming she’s gone into hiding.

  I close the door behind me to be met by Gigi climbing the stairs with bags of groceries. With her arms full, I quickly run to her, helping her by carrying two bags. She graciously says thank you and unlocks her apartment door. Her stray cats come purring to her rescue almost blocking my way when the fat one’s tail nearly gets caught under my shoe.

  “You can put them down on the kitchen counter,” she directs.

  I follow her instructions carefully placing them down. As I’m about to head out, she begins to speak, “You’ve got a lot of energy for someone who drank a whole bottle of bourbon. It’s because you’re an Aries.”

  Here we go. I attempt to shrug it off.

  “Zoey was over here this morning.”

  “She was?” I ask curiously. “That would have been early.”

  I glance at my watch. It’s only quarter past eleven.

  “Hmm,” she murmurs.

  “Do you know where she is? I mean, in all honesty, Gigi, she’s been acting weird lately.”

  “I’m not sure where she went,” she casually speaks. “Libra women can be a little indecisive at times.”

  “How is that related to her acting weird?”

  “She’s at a point in her life where transition is natural, yet for a Libra woman, that can be quite a monumental moment.”

  “What transition are you talking about? It’s not like she’s thirteen and hitting puberty,” I joke.

  “Just give her time to make decisions and process her thoughts.”

  This conversation is confusing me. Horoscopes confuse me. I studied medicine, not astrology. “I’ve got no clue what went down last night. I’ll never drink again,” I moan, seeking sympathy for my awful behavior.

  “That’s what you young folk always say.” She laughs, handing me some herbal tablets that are supposed to rid you of a hangover. No harm in trying. I take them from her and swallow them whole, thanking her when I’m done.

  “I didn’t do anything stupid… did I?”

  “I think it’s best you talk to Zoey. Maybe you both need to clear the air.”

  “There’s unclear air between us?” I worry out loud.

  Gigi pats my shoulder, then picks up a crystal from the table and squeezes it tightly, closing her eyes. She had a habit of doing this, and awkwardly, I stand there waiting like some pathetic fool.

  “Drew, I sense this aura around you. The uncertainty. Just wait until she comes home.”

  I leave the conversation at that. It makes no sense to me whatsoever, and I’m not going to waste my time solving the riddle. I love Gigi, but boy oh boy, she has a few screws loose.

  ***

  My gym workout is exactly what I need, and it took the edge off my hangover. Isaac and Rob are here, and so I chat for a bit, Rob still worried about Zoey. I tell him she’s fine but a little shaken up, so best not to call her.

  Deceitful, it’s the only way to describe yourself right now. It’s not like I could stop men from coming into her life, or can I? My head hurts thinking about it, and if only for today I’ve pushed away another one of her interests, then my job is done.

  I’m due for a late shift tonight, and when I arrive back at the apartment there’s still no Zoey. It starts to worry me a little, so I decide to send her a quick text.

  Drew: I hope you’re not avoiding me. Where are you?

  She never responds and a couple of hours later, she casually strolls through the front door carrying some shopping bags. As I look at the logos printed on the front, I see a popular shoe store. Women. Then, behind the white paper bag I see the familiar pink Victoria’s Secret bag. Oh. Don’t think about sexy lingerie now. I’ve had enough trouble trying to curb that boner all day long.

  “There you are… Jesus, Zoey, you had me worried.” Even I can hear how distressed my voice is, yet Zoey seems unaffected.

&nbs
p; She places the keys down avoiding my gaze. “Why would you be worried? It’s still light out. Aren’t I allowed to go and do whatever I want on a Sunday?”

  Her tone is off, and her refusal to look me in the eye warns me that maybe I’ve done or said something wrong yesterday.

  How am I going to get this out of her without looking like a dickhead? Well, you are a dickhead. You punched Jess in the face even though he deserved it.

  “It’s just… never mind. I just wanted to make sure you’re okay.”

  “I’m fine.”

  There’s that phrase again. The ‘I’m fine.’ When a woman says she’s fine, she’s never fine. It doesn’t take a rocket scientist to figure that out. I scurry behind following her to the bedroom and hold the door open before she shuts it.

  “Quit the weird act, Zo. Did I do something? I want to apologize for last night. I drank a lot, and I don’t remember much after—”

  “After what?” she brutally interrupts me, stopping on her heels as she turns to face me. She’s wearing her silver ballet flats and falls just under my chin. But even then, her glare is enough to intimidate me. Shit, I must have done something really bad.

  “After you told me to fuck off in the cab.”

  With an odd stare, she withdraws, turning her attention to the shopping bags and unpacking her lingerie as if I’m not even in the room.

  “So you remember nothing after that cab ride?”

  I shake my head.

  “Nothing at all?”

  “Nothing, Zo. C’mon, you’re freaking me out. Did I do something? Or say something? I’m sorry.”

  “Nothing. You did nothing. Except for smash Jess’s face at the reception,” she adds.

  He deserved it. That much I know.

  “Yeah, I know you’ll pull out some macho comment, so I don’t want to hear it. I’ve got some stuff I need to get done if you’ll excuse me.”

  I back off until she turns around. “And just so you know, I was with Mia having lunch today before she left for the airport. She was distraught over your altercation.”

  Okay, so now I officially feel like shit. Even though the guy deserved it, Mia and Troy didn’t. I remind myself to apologize in person upon their return.

  Zoey stays locked in her room all afternoon, and I make the conscious decision not to bother her.

  With boredom comes hunger. It’s not until I raid the kitchen cupboard I realize we’re low on food. I have a crazy idea—the both of us could go grocery shopping together. We haven’t done it in years, and maybe she’ll tell me what I did that has made her so moody. A bonding session over food.

  “Zo,” I yell out. “Let’s go out. We need groceries.”

  No response.

  I walk to her room and hear some music playing. Upon closer inspection, I can hear the sounds of P!nk playing. How odd and very unusual for her to play something modern. Something in the universe is not right. I bet it’s a full moon tonight. I bang on the door again, repeating my words.

  “What?” she says, opening the door.

  “Let’s go grocery shopping. We’ve got nothing.”

  “We haven’t done that since you first moved in,” she points out, eyeing me dubiously. “Besides, I’m busy.”

  My glance moves past her. The iPad sits on the bed, and the screen is on with a game of solitaire playing.

  “No, you’re not. C’mon. The fresh air might do us both some good.”

  ***

  I remember why we never shop together anymore. Zoey throws junk into the cart while I sneak it out. Behind the organic carrots and fresh parsley sits a box of Oreos and a jumbo pack of Cheetos. She knows how to rile me up, but I allow the items to sit in the cart hoping she will finally open up to me about last night.

  The six-pack of Coke, bag of Reese’s, and some bacon-flavored candy pushes me over the edge. The second she turns around, the candy and Coke go back on the shelf.

  “If you’re going to keep doing that, I don’t know why you bothered to ask me to come,” she says blankly, pretending to read the back of the Lucky Charms box.

  Is she seriously reading the ingredients? Sugar, sugar, plus more sugar.

  I grip the bar on the shopping cart, fed up and frustrated with her attitude. “For the love of God, just tell me what the fuck I did wrong, so we can move forward like we always do.”

  She pretends to be interested in a magazine she dumped into the cart earlier, but I know she’s procrastinating. I grab it out of her hands, placing it back on the shelf, certain the store workers will be angry at me for discarding it in the cereal aisle.

  “You didn’t do anything wrong, the whole night was not what I had in mind,” she finally admits.

  I watch her, confused. “You were the one who wanted to make him jealous. I just did what you wanted.”

  “I know. Maybe we took it too far.”

  “Well, I’m willing to move past it if you can. It’s not like we had sex, Zo. So, we kissed, and I grabbed your ass. No biggie, right?”

  “No biggie,” she copies with a softer tone, pursing her lips.

  “Okay, so let’s just forget it. I can’t handle you being like this with me. And look, I’m sorry about hitting Jess. He just…” I trail off unable to find the words to describe how much of a scumbag he actually is.

  “It’s not your fault. I shouldn’t have acted like a child. What’s the point of making someone jealous?”

  “Exactly.”

  I breathe a sigh of relief that maybe we can move past this. Also, that she will see Jess for who he truly is and learn from her mistakes. I know not to push her any further, and hopefully, this will blow over and things will go back to normal.

  She doesn’t say another word taking the cart from me and moving toward the deli section where she peruses the cheeses. I wasn’t about to point out all the fat in the cheese she’s staring at, and instead bring up her birthday since it’s only two weeks away.

  “So… what are your plans for your big three-oh?” I ask, switching the subject.

  “I was thinking of having it at that new amusement park that opened up. It’s supposed to be really good.”

  “As in rides and cotton candy?”

  “No, as in unicorns and cocaine.”

  “Ha, ha,” I mock her. “I haven’t been on a rollercoaster since I was like ten.”

  “It’s like riding a bike… you never forget. It’ll be an intimate party, maybe just a few of us.” Her mood picks up a little, a smile gracing her lips.

  “The last time you used the words ‘intimate affair,’ fifty people showed up, and you almost got evicted from that Italian restaurant.”

  “Geez, Dad. Lighten up. I’m turning thirty, not twenty-one.”

  “Dirty thirties, isn’t that what they say?” I tease.

  “Who says that?” she questions like I just told her I committed a murder and buried the body somewhere in the bush.

  “Uh… people? Don’t get oversensitive about it. It’s just a number.”

  “Of course, you would say that. You’re only twenty-eight.”

  She drops a massive block of cheddar cheese into the cart. I wait seconds, maybe a minute tops, before I open my mouth.

  “Do you even know how bad that is for you?”

  “What? The cheese?”

  “Yes, the cheese.” I roll my eyes at her, removing the block and placing it back on the shelf.

  “You know,” she says, hesitating. “Friends don’t make their friends eat low-fat cheese. And you are my friend, aren’t you?”

  Standing beside the cart with her arms folded, she waits for me to answer. What kind of question is this? And why did she drag out the word ‘friend?’ I can’t shake the feeling that there’s more to this again, another secret or emotion she’s holding back.

  So what do I do?

  What most guys would do in this situation, I grab the cheese and throw it back into the cart, not wanting to fuel the beast any further.

  Avoidance. The key to mak
ing a woman think she’s won the battle, when in reality, I just couldn’t be bothered dealing with it.

  “There, you happy?” I bark, waiting for her to gloat.

  She doesn’t and instead avoids my gaze again. Her face, as easy as it is to read, looks melancholy, even pained. The sadness in her eyes shadows her normally vibrant self. Something’s troubling her. And if I’m thinking clearly, it must have something to do with Jess. She still loves him.

  Bits of yesterday come flooding back. He told her he still loved her. And if memory serves me correctly, she didn’t push him away. She allowed that kiss.

  You were there through it all. You know how much she loved him, even after he hurt her. You were there throughout their entire relationship. You saw the ups but mainly the downs.

  And, you know Zoey very well.

  She’s hurting because she still wants him.

  I don’t ask. I have no interest in finding out the truth. Instead, I pick up my sore ego and carry on reminding myself I’m not who she wants.

  I’m not who she loves.

  And why, out of everything that’s happened, is that the only thing I can think about?

  Chapter Fifteen

  Zoey

  He has no clue whatsoever.

  I don’t know what’s worse—the fact that he has no clue, oblivious to his actions that have changed the whole dynamic of our relationship, or if he does remember, how can we move forward from what’s happened?

  Confused and way out of my depth, I finally confide in Gigi that Sunday morning. I woke up early not wanting to confront Drew. His heavy snores echo in his room, so I slip out, avoiding him completely.

  Gigi’s reaction doesn’t surprise me one bit. She told me to watch out, questioning me relentlessly on whether or not it was worth damaging our friendship because of one night.

  I struggle to admit to her and myself, that last night not only changed things between us, but it also changed the way I feel about him. And finally, I admit I see Drew in a different light.