ROOMIES (Strangers-To-Lovers Romance Novel)

by Bella Grant

  “What do you think you’re doing?” she demanded, removing her messenger bag from across her body where the straps had sliced between her full breasts. I’d noticed them all right, just as I’d noticed her honey-blonde hair, blue eyes, and womanly curves.

  “Uh…I thought it was obvious,” I replied, but just in case she wasn’t sure, pointed to the table. “I’m playing poker with a couple of my friends.”

  “I can see that since I’m not blind,” she retorted on a snort. “I mean what happened to the drapery and the rest of the cushions? This wasn’t what the apartment looked like when I left this morning.”

  “I thought I’d help you move some stuff. since you forgot you’re not the sole person living here.”

  “Of course I know that!” she cried with indignation. “I simply wanted our apartment to look nice, which it did.”

  “With all those pink and colored cushions?” I asked incredulously. “It looked like somebody farted skittles all over the living room.”

  “Yeah, well, where were you when I was trying to make this apartment a little homelier?”

  “Uh…Liam, it’s probably besht for ush to go,” Shawn mentioned, getting unsteadily to his feet. He swayed to one side and clutched the table for support, accidentally overturning his beer onto the table. We watched in horror as the liquid ran off the flat surface of the table and onto the rug.

  “Oh, my God, that’s a brand-new rug!” Emily announced in dismay. She ran for the bathroom and returned with a towel, dropped to her knees, and rubbed for all she was worth.

  “Yeah, you should go,” I told my friends and walked them out to the pickup. Shawn was weaving, having had way too much Corona, but Nate was good.

  “Man, she sheems pisshed,” Shawn slurred when I checked to ensure his door was locked and the safety lock was down. “Tell her I’ll pay to clean the rug.”

  “It’s just a little beer,” I commented nonchalantly. “It’ll be fine. Catch you guys later, and thanks for the help.”

  “No problem, man,” Nate hollered and honked his horn before they were off.

  I walked back up the stairs to the apartment, shutting the door loud enough behind me so she would know I was back. She didn’t even acknowledge me. Her face was puffed with anger as she walked by me to the bathroom. She returned with the same towel and continued scrubbing the rug.

  “Look, it was an accident,” I said to her. “There’s no need for you to get all huffy and upset.”

  It was the wrong thing to say. She turned, still on her knees, and faced me. Briefly, it crossed my mind that there were better things she could do on her knees that we both would enjoy, and I reddened thinking of her that way.

  “You waltzed in here and in less than a day, ruined everything!” she yelled at me. “So what if most of everything was pink? I like pink. And what about the couches? Why did you have to move them? And putting your ass on my cushions!”

  “They were on the couch so I assumed that was their purpose—to sit on,” I informed her.

  “You damn well know they are decorative pillows!” she shot back hotly, getting to her feet. “I hope it won’t be a habit of yours to bring your friends over for drinking and playing music loud enough for the neighbors to complain!”

  “The only person I hear complaining is you.”

  “Oh, I’m sure the complaints are coming!”

  I walked over to her and backed her up against the couch. I stabbed my finger in the thin air in front of her. “Now, you listen very carefully, Emily. Might I remind you my name is on that lease as well as yours? I’ve got just as much right to make changes to this apartment as you do!”

  Without waiting for her to respond, I walked to my bedroom and slammed the door behind me. I realized I had left the empty beer bottles on the floor. Shit. Wild horses couldn’t drag me back there to take them out. She made me so mad I might do something crazy. Like shake her. Or kiss her. I couldn’t tell which I wanted to do more, and the idea was frightening.

  I couldn’t be attracted to my roommate. I was locked in the lease with her for the year, and the last thing I needed was any form of attraction between us to throw me off balance. It was only the first day of living together and we were already at each other’s throats.

  A hunch told me it would be a long year indeed.

  8

  Emily

  Dressed in tight jeans and a pink, ruffled tank top with half-boots, I hurried out of the apartment. It didn’t escape my attention Liam wasn’t home yet, though it was almost seven and he got off at six. . .I realized he had no set pattern to his life but waking up, heading to work and hanging with his friends. He basically did nothing beyond that, and I wondered if he found it monotonous to do so little with his life at twenty-five.

  I went to bed late some nights because I sat up doing assignments or studying, and a few nights, he came home either drunk or very tipsy. I'd asked him out of concern if he drove home when he drank, but he'd assured me one of his friends always acted as the designated driver. It was none of my business, but I was alarmed to think of him driving under the influence.

  I had very little of anything positive to say about Liam. He wasn't too bad when he wasn't drunk. Some nights, I would hear him strumming his acoustic guitar softly, and he sounded talented, even though I was hardly an expert on guitar picking. He was funny and laid back and he made me laugh a few times, but most times, living with him was pure agony. The night his friend had spilled beer all over my new rug, as if that wasn't bad enough, he'd tried to shove the remaining beers in the already overstocked refrigerator. I'd woken up to the horrible smell of sour milk and meat going bad. He'd jammed a bottle too close to the door, which had then opened from the strain. I'd been livid, but he'd argued that I had no right to monopolize all the space in the fridge. In a way, he was right, so I cut my rant short.

  I had dinner at Paw Paw Patch, a southern-style restaurant which served home-cooked meals. Miranda was to join me. In fact, she was probably already there. I was running late since I'd gotten stuck in traffic, trying to hurry home to shower before getting dressed. I didn't feel like going out with Miranda wearing the same outfit I'd been in all day. It was the first time we were going out since I had moved into my own apartment.

  Her face was the first I saw as I walked into the restaurant. Since it was a buffet-style restaurant, she got up from the booth she was sitting at, close to one window, and walked over to me.

  "Hey, you look amazing!" she said to me. "I knew being away from that creep would have a healthy effect on you."

  "Thanks. Let's order because I am starving.”

  I didn't want to talk about Jake, and having to admit to her she was right and I should have left him a long time ago. Being on my own made me realize how much he had smothered me.

  I had the server share out a plate of pork chops for me with three sides of mashed potatoes and gravy, rice and steamed broccoli along with a slice of apple pie. As soon as we sat at the table Miranda had been sitting at when I walked in, a woman I thought was too old to be working as a waitress came over to take our drink order and drop off our bill, to be paid at the cashier's desk when we left. I requested pink lemonade with a slice of lemon and Miranda ordered a Coke.

  "You never told me your roommate was so yummilicious," Miranda commented with a pout. "If you'd told me, maybe I would have been by to check out your apartment."

  I rolled my eyes at her and swallowed the mashed potato I had in my mouth. It was almost as good as the way my mother made hers. Man, did I miss my mom's cooking. It was one of the bad things about moving out. An end to the deliciously cooked, free food.

  "How'd you meet him?" I asked before my eyes opened knowingly. "Oh, my God. You did not!"

  She grinned. "I did. I was at the mall yesterday when you were off, and I walked into Sonik, pretending to be interested in buying some classic records. As if!"

  "How do you know you saw the right guy?"

  "Black hair, eyes as blue as the sky.
A body built for sex. Should I go on?"

  I scowled at her. "He's hardly all that!"

  "I know you're not dead, Emily," she rebuked gently. "No way in hell you missed all that, but why didn't you tell me he was so cute? Is there anything more going on between you two than just roommates?"

  "Hell no!" I denied hotly and perhaps just a little too quickly. "He's an inconsiderate jerk! Do you know, the first day he got there, he moved the cushions from the couches and took down my drapery?"

  "Don't tell me—the pink ones."

  "Yes, the pink ones." At her funny look, I asked, "What's wrong with them?"

  "Because his reaction was natural. How many guys do you see with their couches decorated the way you love to do yours? I know colors add life, Emily, but you go way overboard."

  "He's impossible to live with," I countered. "It wasn't just that. My groceries were spoiled because of him, and he comes in a sloppy drunk at nights. I had to move my potted plant from the apartment door when he overturned it twice! Not once, but twice! "

  "Sounds fun!" She grinned at me. "This guy solved all your problems by being your roommate. Lighten up some and cut him some slack, Emily.'"

  "Oh, he knows how to be a slacker all on his own. That's the least he needs! What he needs is some discipline and home training, and I've been thinking about how I'm going to fix our fussing and fighting."

  "How?"

  To answer her query, I dug into the side of my bag and pulled out a single sheet of paper folded into four. I passed it to her. She wiped her hands on the napkin and unfolded the paper. I watched her eyes bug out as she realized what it was and burst out laughing.

  "You made rules for him to live by!" she shrieked, not minding that the other few patrons in the restaurant cast us annoyed looks.

  "What's wrong with it?" I asked, nonplussed. "It makes perfect sense. This way, he'll know what to do and what not to do."

  "There are two options for you to wash your dishes," she read aloud from the list. "There's the dishwasher or the sink. Learn how to use one."

  "He never cleans up after himself!" I exclaimed. "I'm not there to be his maid."

  "How many dishes can the poor guy mess up at a time?" she asked compassionately. "Poor guy. You have to give a little too, Em."

  "But why? I'm the perfect roommate. I always ensure everything is neat, tidy, and clean. You know I hate mess."

  "Exactly," she declared. "You're obsessed with everything in its correct place, but not everyone is like that. Take me and Alexander for example. Do you think living with him came naturally? Hell, I've told him countless times to put the lid of the toilet seat down, and after two years, I'm still doing it."

  "This is different. You have to be nice to Alexander because you're in a relationship. I don't have to be nice to this guy. Once he does what he’s supposed to, that’s all that matters.”

  "One would think you've never lived with a man before!"

  "Well, Jake was never like that," I pointed out. "He was as neat and tidy as I am. The bottom line is, this guy needs to clean up his act some if we're to make it to the end of the year with this lease."

  "All I'm saying is these rules will not turn out well."

  "I don't see why not," I argued. "If he has trouble knowing how to share space with someone respectfully, I'll just remind him."

  "He's a grown man. Giving him that list is childish, like you're a mom and he's a child. You've got to find another way to talk to him about it, and you can't expect him alone to change all his habits. You've got to do some changing too and be more flexible."

  "Well, until you have a better idea, I'm sticking to my list of rules."

  I snagged the paper from her hand and folded it before I tucked it into my handbag. When I walked through the doors of the apartment tonight, Liam and I would have a long talk and I would make him follow the rules if it was the last thing I did. If it meant I had to nag him every time he left a cup or dish in the sink unwashed, that was exactly what I would do.

  After dinner, we paid for our meals and decided to stop at an ice cream shop to make our own kind. It was my favorite ice cream parlor. They had so many different kinds of toppings, from wafers to gummy worms. We dismissed my roommate from our conversation and discussed the new movies coming out that we were both interested in seeing. Half an hour later, we hugged and headed our separate ways.

  I drove back to the apartment, the problem of my roommate on my mind. I was irritated that he had parked his Chevy in my spot. I had a hunch he did it deliberately to get a rise out of me. Once my car was gone, I would return to find him parked in my spot. I hadn't said anything to him about it, though, hoping to stabilize our tumultuous start at being roommates. He didn't make it any easier by finding little ways to push me closer to the edge.

  This was it! I thought, running up the stairs. The list couldn't wait until I came up with another plan. If there wasn’t some semblance of order between us, I would be driven insane.

  The moment I opened the apartment door, music assailed my ears. What was with him and music? I liked listening to music as well, but he listened to it all the time. And that damn speaker in the corner that took up so much unnecessary space was used to magnify his music since he attached his iPhone to it.

  He was listening to country music, a Blake Shelton song. I couldn't differentiate what song it was, but I couldn't miss Shelton's voice. When I walked deeper into the apartment, I found him lying on the couch, his tennis shoes still on, the center table pulled close to him as he drank his beer and placed the cold bottle on the table. Without a coaster. I'd made sure to place them on the table for this very reason. His feet were shaking to the beat of the song as he scribbled on a note pad with a pencil.

  Since he hadn't noticed me, I closed my eyes and took several deep breaths to calm down. The last thing I wanted to do was blow up when discussing the rules. I was positive that as adults, we could talk about this rationally.

  I cleared my throat three times for him to notice me, but not once did he look up. "Liam!" I finally called his name loudly so he could hear me above the music.

  His head snapped up towards the sound of my voice and my breath caught. He had a sleepy, tousled look to him. Why couldn't his actions be as sexy as how he looked?

  "Hey, what's up?" he asked.

  "Can you turn the music off for a minute please? I need to talk to you."

  "I'm kind of too chill to get up right now," he responded. "But knock yourself out."

  Of course, he was determined not to make it very easy for me. I walked over to his iPhone and pressed the pause button, sighing in contentment at the silence. It was so refreshing that I stood there to bask in it.

  "If you just wanted me to turn off the music, you could have said so without making up stories about having to talk to me."

  And just like that, the silence was ruined. With a sigh, I walked over and sat on the couch opposite him. "I do want to talk to you," I told him. "It's about our living arrangement. Are you concerned about anything? For example, with me."

  "Well, I didn't want to say anything," he answered on a frown. "But could you use less of the hot water in the mornings? I prefer hot showers over cold ones. I'm trying to get rid of a hard-on every morning."

  I tried not to blush at his response. Like I needed to know that about him. "Okay, I'll take that into consideration."

  "And try not to use so much refrigerator space. I can barely fit a six-pack inside." I opened my mouth to respond but he continued. "And try to get all your clothes out of the dryer next time. I was confused there for a minute when a thong ended up in my clothes basket."

  My cheeks burned bright red. I'd left underwear in the dryer? Why hadn't he mentioned it before? And a better question, why hadn't he returned it? Was he hoping I would ask him for it? Over my dead body. I wasn’t lacking in underwear, so whatever game he was trying to play, I refused to entertain him. I wasn’t going to ask him what he did with my thong.

  "I know what you'
re thinking," he grinned. "No, I didn't keep it. I returned it to your underwear drawer."

  I gasped in outrage and glared at him. "You went through my underwear drawer?"

  "I dropped your thong inside, not went through it," he explained slowly as though that somehow made it any better. "There's a difference. You don't have to thank me. I assure you, it wasn’t a hardship at all. I'm used to the female undergarment."

  "You aren't used to mine!" I exclaimed. "I'd appreciate it if you refrain from going inside my room from now on."

  "Sure, no problem. Next time, I'll just hoist it on a pole somewhere."

  "There won't be a next time!" I snapped at the grin on his face. "And since we are on this topic of what I will and won't do, I've something for you to read carefully."

  I removed the folded sheet of paper from my bag and handed it to him. He winked at me. "Ooh, a love letter. Haven't received one of these since middle school."

  I refused to rise to his bait and watched his face for emotion as he read through the list. His face was stoic, so I couldn’t tell what was going through his mind.

  "I see," he commented. "How long did it take you to come up with this? It's an awfully long list."

  "I've been thinking about it since you moved in," I replied, sighing with relief that he wasn't as opposed to the idea as Miranda had thought he would. I smiled at him. "I think it will help us to co-exist better together. What do you think? See, we have to fuss and fight all the time. With a little discipline, we can get the hang of living together."

  "Right, and I have the perfect place to put it."

  "You do?" I asked, surprised but pleased he was taking it so well.

  "Yup." To my disbelief, he crumpled the sheet of paper in his palm and made a perfect shot across the room, right into the waste paper bin at my work station. "That's exactly what I think of that list," he remarked. "It's utter garbage."