Roommates

by Erin Leigh

“Good. I have a head cold.” My voice almost cracks but I keep it steady. I’m not good. I don't even know why.

  “Yes, you sound ill. Your father and I were hoping you’d try to make it to the Vandervalks’ anniversary party in two weeks. It’s the same weekend as Halloween. You could stay down and see some of your friends maybe.”

  “Maybe.” The idea isn’t terrible and the Vandervalk family is one of the few I actually like and William hates them. “Let me see how work goes.” I don't mention the move or the hockey player, or the fact I might have made the biggest mistake ever.

  “Okay, dear. What about your birthday? It's in a week. What’s the plan for that?”

  I realize when she says it that I don't have plans. “I’ll probably go to Manhattan with Sami.”

  She inhales slowly and forces herself to smile. I can actually visualize the entire thing. “That sounds like fun.”

  “I’ll let you know.” I pause. “I love you, Mom.”

  “Love you too, dear.”

  “Bye.” I hang up and contemplate my birthday, the mess I’m in, the Vandervalks’ party, and Brady. Everything swings back to Brady.

  I’ve known him for two months this weekend.

  Sniffling, I wipe my eyes again and leave the bathroom.

  “Natalie?”

  I turn to see Randy. He smiles like my father would if he were here.

  “Are you all right? I mean, I can tell you’re not. What’s wrong?”

  “Nothing.” I sniffle. “I’ve had some boyfriend problems lately. We’ve broken up for good after three years.” I lie. I can’t bear to tell him the mess I’ve made. He’s my boss. But I also don't want him to think I’m neurotic.

  “Oh, boys and love are such terribly beautiful things. It will get better and if you had the inclination to break up, then it was likely the right choice. We always go back for fear of losing or being alone. If only we were smart enough to follow our hearts the first time we walk away from something.”

  It’s the smartest thing someone has ever said to me.

  “Anyway, I was going to leave you a note. Brady has actually won, as have you, a book cover contest. Penguin Random House has asked if you’ll head to New York next weekend so you can be part of the award ceremony.”

  “Of course.” Shit. “Yes. Absolutely.” I nod too aggressively.

  “Liz mentioned it was also your birthday that weekend. So I was thinking you should stay an extra night and charge it to the company.” He winks and turns, waving at me. “Don't tell me. If that's your plan, just do it and consider it a happy birthday from us.”

  Clinging to my phone, I turn and leave the office.

  It’s still pissing rain.

  When I get halfway across the park I pause. Panic starts to build inside me.

  He’s still there. He’s sitting on the side of the capitol building, staring at the grass.

  My heart breaks, but I force myself to walk to him. I made this mess. I have to clean it up.

  Every step hurts my pride and my heart.

  His eyes dart to mine, instantly perking his face up. He stands, walking to meet me in the middle of the path.

  I lift my phone, flinching when I realize the rain is dousing it.

  “We need to finish that conversation.” He looks annoyed now.

  “Okay.” I don't even know how to tell him that he won an award for being a cover model.

  He walks to me, not stopping at an appropriate spot on the path. He comes right up to me, too close and yet just close enough. “I thought you wanted me too. I think you do. I’m not good at this part of this. I don't even know what the fuck I’m saying right now.” He takes a breath, calming himself. He reaches forward, cupping my chin and lifting my face. The way he touches me is softer than the rain coming down on us both. “I like you in the way a girl like you needs to be liked. I don't want to fuck you, Nat. I don't want to fuck anyone anymore.”

  I flinch, making him laugh nervously.

  “I mean, I want to ask you out for dinner and walk you home afterward and maybe kiss on the stairs. I don't want to live together and be an instant anything. I want a do-over.”

  “Okay.” I think I surprise us both, but I can’t think of a single reason, apart from his being a manwhore, for us not to try. “I’ll move out.”

  “No, you won’t. You’ll stay. I can crash with Mitch and Mike. They have a third room at their place.” He’s already thought of everything?

  “Okay, but there are definitely some rules.”

  He laughs and leans forward, kissing my forehead, taking in a breath of me like my dad does. “Of course there are. You’re a little bit of a head case.” He kisses me again, wrapping his arms around me. I don't know if it’s him shaking or me, but when I close my eyes, I don't feel the rain. I feel him and little pieces of my own world clicking into place.

  We walk back to our apartment in the awkward possibility of where this might all go once we get inside.

  He holds the door for me, looking at me with a subtle hint of a smile. It’s not the sly grin. It’s something else.

  At the elevator, he turns and looks down on me. “So we’re cool?”

  “I guess we are.” I shrug.

  We walk into the elevator, turning at the same moment, both facing the door. My mind fills with the memory of him pressing me into the corner of the elevator when he fought William.

  The back of his hand and arm rubs against the back of mine, creating even more tension.

  I exhale slowly, trying to stay calm.

  The door opens and I contemplate just asking him to stay. But he opens our apartment and pulls his hoodie off, revealing far too much of his abs. My eyes get stuck, my lips part, and when he’s done he fully catches me staring.

  A slow smile crosses his lips. “I’m going to get my stuff to the truck if you wanna hit the shower first.”

  “No.” I’m about to beg him to stay and just be my boyfriend, and we’ll pretend that we’ve been dating for years. “You shower first. You’re way more wet than I am.”

  He looks like he might say something but he doesn't. He stares and nods once. His dark eyes, framed by those lashes, are like a weapon. They tear into me, seeing right through me. “I’ll be fast.” He turns and walks to the shower, peeling his tee shirt off. His back is just as sexy as the front. God help me.

  I hurry into my room and change as fast as I can. I’ve spent two months lounging in front of him in sweats and tee shirts, but now I’m washing my face with wipes and cleaning my makeup up. I drag off my wet clothes and pull on my Lululemon yoga pants, a push up bra, and a tee shirt with a decent V in the front but let my long hair hang limp. It’s not too obvious, since I’m soaked and not going out, but it’s also formfitting and showing off the goods.

  I drag some lip gloss on and some new mascara. My cheeks are flushed from the cold and my eyes are sparkling from crying. I still look rough, but it’s in all the good ways.

  Pretending to be drying my hair, I leave the room. He leaves the bathroom in a towel. His body is glistening and hard. The memory of the way his skin felt under my palms still haunts me. I used him. I didn't get to appreciate him. I never worshipped at the temple he is.

  His eyes meet mine again, him standing in the doorway of the bathroom and me here in my room.

  Ignoring all the common sense alarms going off in my head, I walk to him. I don't let my fear or worry filter my acts. I press my hands against his meaty chest and push him back into the bathroom. I flick on the light and close the door, as if to block out the world.

  “I don't want you to fuck me. I want you to show me how you feel.” The words are brave and bold, and I don't know if I am any of those things, but I do those acts as if I am.

  He nods, letting the towel drop to the floor.

  Chapter Twenty-Eight

  Magical vag

  Natalie

  “So he moved all his stuff out for you and never asked for the rent money back?” Liz sips her wine, glancing ar
ound.

  “He didn't even take his stuff from the kitchen or his Xbox. He said I could use it as long as I wanted. Honestly, though we’ve hung out every day and I suspect eventually he’ll be sleeping here again. Maybe that's why. We both know it’s inevitable. I tried to tell him I could get a roommate. I was thinking we could live together.”

  “Yeah, that would have worked perfectly. My lease is up.” Her eyes narrow. “What did you do to him?”

  “What?” I swallow the lump in my throat as I recall the things we did to each other in the shower. “I don't know.”

  “She has magic vagina. I’ve seen this before.” Sami winks. “Boys can’t refuse magic vag.”

  “If anyone is rocking the magical vag, it’s you.” I roll my eyes.

  “And what is magic vag, exactly?” Liz cocks her head to the side.

  “It’s the soul mate to the penis of the manwhore. He wants to, but he can’t fight his need for more of that.” Sami laughs. “It changes him.”

  “It started out as urban legend, but you’re making shit up now.” I make a face at her and sip my wine.

  “Whatever.” Sami gives Liz a look. “So are you going to these cover model awards?”

  My phone buzzes, drawing my eyes to it. A smile owns my face when I see the message.

  Thinking about you. Wanna hang out?

  Glancing at Liz and Sami, I press my lips together as they start talking about something else.

  Yeah, is this you asking me out for a date? Because the shower was a one time deal.

  I can’t help but laugh. He’s texting me at night and asking if I want to hang out, like he’s not into the bootie call he thinks he’s making me.

  I want some sushi and I know this place. You in?

  I am hungry and it is nine, the time I normally snack. And sushi does sound good. I give the girls a look and then my phone and press my lips together as I send him back his text.

  Fine, but it’s sushi and we discuss the circumstances we find ourselves in.

  Wouldn't have it any other way.

  He sends an emoji with a kissy face. I almost smile.

  I’ll meet you.

  I’ll pick you up. You can’t walk in the dark alone.

  I roll my eyes at him but smile at how cute he is.

  “I’m going for sushi. Can I leave you guys here?” I tap my phone against my palm.

  “You know that's a bootie call, not a sushi call, right?” Sami folds her arms. “Maybe he’s not so different than before.”

  A smile crosses my lips, maybe to hide the sting. “Oh, I’m sure he’s not different. I’m just not the girl who does bootie calls. So it will be sushi on the menu and nothing else.”

  “Let me pick your clothes.” Sami smiles wide, jumping off the couch.

  Liz runs for my room. “And shoes!”

  “It’s sushi.” I laugh and follow them in.

  Chapter Twenty-Nine

  First time for everything

  Brady

  She lifts the chopsticks and lowers her gaze to my hands. “Can those meat hooks actually hold chopsticks?”

  “I think you will recall that these meat hooks are graceful and delicate to the touch.” I waggle my fingers.

  She laughs and picks up a piece of the crunchy roll. “I thought we weren’t going to play that game.”

  I lean in, narrowing my gaze. “What game?” Using my masterful chop-sticking, I pick up a piece and dunk it in her soy sauce and wasabi mix.

  “The one where you try to smooth talk your way into my pants, and we end this meal having crazy sex and then tomorrow we start fresh again, trying to date after we’ve already had sex.”

  I pop the sushi into my mouth, struggling to not grin while I chew.

  “Please.” She eats and laughs. “Don't act like this isn’t your plan.”

  “You let Sami do your makeup and your shirt is almost see-through. You came here to torment me.” I laugh and point my chopsticks at her. “We lived together for two months. I know what your level of makeup is in comparison to hers.”

  She sits back, offering me a headshake. “I want you to want me. You want me to want you. I feel like this is not an area we have a problem. We both clearly want the physical aspects of this.”

  I sit back and fold my arms too. I wish they were folded around her, but she’s on a mission. I can see the weird head-case thing going strong in her eyes. I don't fear it though. It’s her response to being nervous. She needs lists and other things.

  “You can’t date anyone and if you feel the need to date other people you end this.” She looks like this is harder for her to say than she might have imagined it would be. “And you get one shot.” Her face gets very serious. “I don't give second chances anymore.”

  Lowering the chopsticks, I reach across the table and take her hand in mine. “I don't need a second chance. You’re the first time I’ve ever wanted a chance at all, let alone a second one.”

  Her eyes widen and I can tell I said exactly the right thing, finally. I got game on the short term, but long term and I’m an idiot.

  “And you can’t do the bootie call thing, not to me and not to anyone else. If you want to date me it’s entirely me and it’s a date, like this. No PFs, no gross hockey player bullshit.” She still hasn't recovered from the thing I said so she’s repeating herself.

  “I got it, I swear.” I try really hard not give her the smug grin, but I do feel smug. I feel everything. It’s weird and amazing.

  She takes a breath and nods. “Okay.”

  “You are safe with me.” I say it and I believe it, but I think deep down we’re both worried about that.

  “I don't want this to start so intensely.” She sighs and frees her hand, grabbing another bite of sushi off the plate we’re sharing of assorted.

  “Why? It’s kind of awesome. I’ve seen your bad side, your stripper side, your drunken side—”

  “Stripper?” She cocks her head at an angle as she pulls back. “What does that mean?”

  My mouth opens but I pause, not sure what to say.

  “You’re doing your hesitating thing that always means you’re trying to come up with a better answer than the truth. Say it.”

  “I might have seen the show once. No big deal.”

  Her hands drop the chopsticks and fly to her face. Through the fingers she mutters, “The night I got trashed and you were so nice to me in the morning. I knew I didn't put myself to bed.”

  “It was no big deal. Seriously. You were hot and it took every ounce of restraint I had not to take you up on your offer.” I regret those words the minute I speak them.

  Her hands lower and her mouth drops. “What offer?”

  I lick my lips, not sure I should say it but I do, “You offered me an amazing blow job and sex and stripped your clothes off.” Fighting the grin owning my face is futile. Instead, I shake my head and take another bite of sushi. “It was nothing.”

  “Oh my God. I feel like such an idiot.” She cringes.

  “Why? Want me to tell you a terrible drunk story so you’ll feel better? I have millions. The remorse fades when you realize everyone has them.”

  “No, I don't want to hear one of your disgusting stories.” Her nose wrinkles.

  “Not all my stories are disgusting. In fact, my worst drunken story has nothing to do with sex.” I take another bite.

  She cocks an eyebrow. “Okay.”

  “I was out with friends, getting trashed. It was New Year’s Eve. I think I was about sixteen. I was newly billeted with a family who had a lot of money and they were having their own party, but we didn't stay for it. We went out and got rip-snorting drunk. We came back around two in the morning. I flung the doors open, I think maybe expecting the whole house to be drunk.” I laugh at my own stupidity. “I stumbled in, slurring and staggering all over an AA New Year’s Eve party. It was a dry party filled with sober drunks. I fell down the stairs and passed out there.”

  She starts laughing, making me laugh ha
rder. “You’re an idiot.”

  “I told you. Taking your clothes off for a guy who already likes you isn’t such a big deal. Especially, considering I’ve scrubbed every inch of you in a shower.” I look down, hiding my little bit of shame that remains. “I got kicked out of that house.” I don't need to tell her I nailed the older sister at the next house and had a way better stay.

  It’s her turn to reach across the table as small giggles still slip from her. “Sorry, but that's an awesome story.” She laughs and clears her throat. “So you don't have a lot of humility then?”

  “No. I’m out of ways to embarrass myself, trust me.”

  “Good.” She bites her lip. “I have some news that ties into you having no humility. And I should have told you last week.” She avoids my eyes. “We won some cover contest.”

  “What! That's fabulous.” I reach across the food, hugging her.

  She hugs back. “No, Brady—we won.”

  I pull back, sitting back down. “We?”

  She lifts her phone out of her purse and taps until she gets to whatever she wants to show me and spins the phone around.

  My jaw drops.

  It’s me and yet it’s not.

  The covers are dark and creepy or they’re romantic and sexy. My body is put there with other people. My face is hidden behind a hood, masking everything except the scary look in my dark eyes. I can trace every look on my face to the thoughts I was thinking as she was talking.

  “These are amazing.” I look up, humbled by the skill she has. “You made art.”

  She shrugs. “I had a muse I guess.” She points at the one where my face is dark and feisty. “This is the one that won.”

  “What did you win?”

  “Well, I won cover artist of the year and you won cover model of the year. We have to go to New York this weekend.”

  “That's why you asked if I could come to New York for your birthday.” My insides tighten. Cover model of the year?

  “Yeah. I was hoping we could go to this for a couple of hours. The company is paying for the hotel and food.” Her sapphire eyes are wide and hopeful.