Bad Boy Roomie (The Bad Boy Roomie Romance Series Box Set)

by Claire Adams

  “It’s okay to look, you, know,” I said in a light tone. “You’ve seen it all anyway.”

  “Yeah, got it,” he replied as he tried to hide the smile that flitted across his lips. “Just trying to give you some privacy.”

  “Well, it’s hard in a space this small, but I appreciate it,” I said as I grabbed my clothes.

  “It’s kind of chilly out there this morning,” Brian offered as he thumbed through my Psych textbook. “You might want to dress appropriately.”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” I shot back as I felt myself getting defensive. “Are you implying that I don’t usually dress appropriately?”

  “Step down, spitfire,” he said as he raised a hand in defense. “I’m just saying that you might want to dress for rain, that’s all. I’m not judging you.”

  I stood there fuming as I looked at him. How dare he tell me what’s appropriate and what isn’t! I was sick of his constant back and forth, one minute approving and the next disapproving. I was tired of having to walk on eggshells as we tried to navigate the path between security guard and boyfriend. Suddenly, a flood of questions came rushing into my brain.

  Does he see me as his girlfriend? Do I think of him as my boyfriend? Are we a couple? I quickly discounted my answers by telling myself that it was insane to think that he could be someone I viewed as a boyfriend after less than a week. It’s Stockholm Syndrome, only without the kidnapping and violence. I chuckled as this thought crossed my mind.

  “What are you laughing about?” Brian asked in an irritated voice. “Is there something funny I don’t know about?”

  “Just thinking about my Psych homework,” I replied. “No need to get all irritated with me.”

  “Irritated? Who’s irritated?” he said in a voice that was even more irritated than before.

  “Obviously you are, sailor,” I said nonchalantly.

  “I’m not irritated!” he yelled as he shot up off the couch.

  “Evidence would prove otherwise,” I said as I held my ground.

  “What the hell is wrong with you, Ava?” he shouted. “Why do you push me like this?”

  “How exactly am I doing anything, Brian?” I said. My voice was calm, but inside I was trembling like a leaf. I knew he wouldn’t hurt me, but his anger was palpable.

  “You are so…so…so…” he stuttered before blurting out, “Infuriating!”

  “Oh, I’m infuriating? Me?” I cried. “That’s a good one! You’re the one who gets all pissy and then shuts down and refuses to talk about anything! I didn’t do anything to you, and you just get mad and stop talking! What’s that all about, huh?”

  Brian stood glaring at me with his fists clenched at his sides for what felt like hours before he lowered his eyes and loosened his hands. He stared at the floor in front of my feet for another long while before taking a deep breath.

  “Look, I’m sorry,” he began. “I just feel…frustrated.”

  “About what?” I asked quietly.

  “About the fact that I want to protect you, but I feel like you won’t let me do the things I need to do to ensure that you’re safe, and then you go and…” he trailed off.

  “I go and do what?” I asked.

  “You participate in that hateful group that does such awful things to members of the military. How could you?” he asked as he looked up. The hurt and pain in his eyes took my breath away.

  “What hateful things?” I was confused by his accusation.

  “Those anti-war groups protest at military funerals and say hateful things about people who’ve given their lives for their country,” he explained. “How could you participate in that kind of thing?”

  “I have no idea what you’re talking about!” I protested. “We don’t do those kinds of things!”

  “I’ve seen the groups that do,” he said quietly. “They were at my best friend’s funeral when I accompanied his body back to the States. They had signs and literature that they were passing out about their anti-war activities.”

  “Brian, we’ve never once protested at a funeral,” I assured him. “That would be rude and disrespectful of the people who’ve sacrificed their lives for our right to oppose war.”

  “Then what do you do?” he asked. “What’s the purpose of an anti-war group that doesn’t protest?”

  “We do protest,” I said. “We protest against unjust wars that use our military servicepeople as cannon fodder. We protest against the government’s lack of concern for the servicepeople who’ve returned home after the wars, and we protest against the use of violence to ensure peace! It’s all wrong!”

  “It’s not wrong,” he muttered.

  “Yes! It is horribly wrong to send young men and women out to fight a war that is simply about protecting oil and resources!” I yelled. “How can you say it’s not?”

  “Because I fought the war! I fought for freedom and democracy and to get rid of a dictator that had brutally oppressed his people for decades!” Brian shouted back. “I was there, little girl. I saw what was going on and fought to bring peace to those people.”

  “Little girl? Little girl?” I was pissed. “Don’t you dare dismiss me simply because I haven’t been over to Iraq and fought in the war. That’s the most asinine argument I’ve ever heard!”

  “Oh, really?” Brian crossed the room and stood not more than a foot from me as he continued. “Then please explain to me why I went over there and spent years on the ground helping secure the territory. Please explain why I spent so much time away from my friends and family in order to patrol the cities and prevent violence. Please explain why I watched civilians get blown up by their own countrymen who were trying to kill me and my team! Please explain, Ava, why…” Brian stopped as a look of anguish tore across his face.

  “Brian…” I began.

  “No! Please explain why I watched my best friend die,” he choked on the words and then looked into my eyes and said, “Tell me why, Ava. Tell me why anything I did mattered. Tell me why the sacrifices we all made were required. Tell me, Ava, would you please?”

  I had no answer for him. I had been stunned into silence by his tirade against my involvement with what I had seen as an honest attempt to stop war from happening. I hadn’t really thought about it from the soldiers’ point of view other than to not want any of them to be hurt or killed in the fighting of wars that weren’t of their making.

  “Look, I have no answers,” I said as I reached out and gently touched his arm. Brian shrunk from my touch, but I continued. “All I wanted to do was to stop the needless fighting. I didn’t want people dying - not any people! I thought that if I got involved in the group we could petition our representatives and persuade others to sign the petition requesting that the U.S not get involved in wars that aren’t about freedom or democracy.”

  Brian continued staring at my feet as I spoke. “I have never in my life ever done anything as rude or disrespectful as to protest at a soldier’s funeral, and I never would. I just don’t want people to die, Brian. That’s all. I just don’t want you or anyone you know to die in combat!”

  I stood in front of him, out of breath and emotionally on edge from trying to explain myself. Brian continued staring silently at the floor before he raised his head and looked into my eyes. My heart cracked as I felt the waves of unspoken pain flowing between us. I didn’t want to break the silence, so I held his gaze as he reached out and ran a finger down my cheek before pushing the hair out of my eyes.

  “Ava,” he whispered. “Go get dressed, you’re going to be late to your meeting.”

  *****

  As we walked to the quad and headed for the meeting, I thought about what we’d said to one another and I turned the discussion over and over as I thought about Brian’s misinformed view of the anti-war movement and how much pain it had obviously cost him. I was outraged that anyone claiming to be anti-war would ever dream of being anti-military member, but then I remembered hearing about some Midwestern church group who was using t
he funerals to promote their hate-filled, anti-gay message.

  I turned and looked for Brian, but he was busy trying to blend in with the Sunday student crowd on the quad. He obviously didn’t want to talk about this with me, so I began formulating a plan. I’d have to run it by the group members, but I thought that once I explained the reasoning behind it, they would definitely agree with me and we could work to end the hateful practice of protesting military funerals.

  Brian stayed outside the room while we discussed ways to take a stand against the groups that were using the funerals to promote their own hateful beliefs. We sketched out a plan on the whiteboard and then assigned group members to begin calling and emailing those we’d identified as allies. We might be a small group, I thought, but we’re mighty in our determination to do the right thing.

  After the meeting, I walked outside and saw Brian sitting on a chair in the lounge area. He was obviously on high alert as he scanned the area, searching for any signs of Dominic. I smiled and waved at him to let him know I was ready to leave. I saw him furrow his brow as he looked past me, but when I spun around to see what had caused it, I saw nothing.

  “What’s wrong?” I asked.

  “Nothing, I just thought—” he stopped and started intently at the other side of the student lounge, then shook his head and said, “Nothing. It’s nothing.”

  “Okay, if you’re sure!” I chirped. “Do you want to go get some lunch and hear about the plan we came up with?”

  “Do I have a choice?” he grinned.

  “Of course you don’t,” I grinned back. Two could play this little game.

  “Touché!” Brian burst out laughing as we walked to over to Charlie Chang’s for a lunch of bibimbap.

  *****

  “So, tell me about this plan of yours,” Brian said to me with a mouth full of kimchi.

  “Don’t talk with your mouth full!” I laughed as I took a sip of my iced tea before popping a piece of the spicy cabbage in my mouth. Brian laughed at my admonition as the server put two steaming bowls down on the table and asked if there was anything else we needed. I smiled and shook my head.

  “But seriously, tell me what you’ve got up your sleeve, Ava,” he said as he stirred a huge squirt of hot sauce into his lunch.

  “When you said that you associated the anti-war groups with disrespect and meanness, I started thinking about how a small number of protesters are defining the movement in negative terms,” I said as I pulled apart my chopsticks and balanced them carefully in my right hand. Brian watched and shook his head as he pointedly began eating with his fork. “So, I suggested that we address the issue of those people who protest at funerals instead of spending so much time writing letters protesting a war that is already happening.”

  “How do you think you’re going to affect the protestors?” he asked.

  “We don’t think we’re going to affect them, per se,” I replied. “They’re using their protests to accomplish something entirely unrelated to the peace movement. They’re using servicepeople as a mechanism to promote their hatred of people who they feel are eroding moral values. It’s somewhat ironic that they’re religious people, because they seem to have missed the overall point of their own religion.”

  “How so?” Brian asked. “They’re standing up for what they feel is right and they’re protesting against what they feel is wrong, aren’t they?”

  “Yes, but they miss the whole point, love thy neighbor and all, that is what matters, right?” I looked up at him as I explained my take on the situation. I wasn’t sure he was buying it.

  “Okay, I guess I can see your point, but I don’t understand what it is you think you’re going to do about it,” he replied as he brought another forkful of the delicious rice and vegetable combination to his mouth.

  “We don’t think that we can change the people who are protesting, but we do think that we can show those who are not part of the group how damaging the practice is,” I said as I carefully measured my next words. “We think that if we can show how much pain and suffering these groups cause, then we can get average, everyday folks to step in and help stop the practice.”

  “And how do you propose to accomplish this?” he asked.

  “Well…” I took a deep breath and pushed forward. “We thought we could use your story to illustrate the way in which the protestors caused so much pain during the funeral of your friend. We’ve got a couple of members who are journalism majors and they would write articles for the newspaper and a couple of other internet outlets that they write for, and then we thought that we could write letters to the university administration asking them to support our attempts to get the city to stop allowing these folks to protest within a certain distance. We also thought that we could do what other cities have done and ask members of various clubs to come form a human wall around the funerals so that the friends and family members wouldn’t have to even see the protestors.”

  Brian had stopped eating and was staring at me with steely eyes. I casually continued eating as I waited to hear his response to my plan.

  “Absolutely not,” he said quietly. “You will not use my story and you will not bring me into this mess.”

  “But Brian,” I countered. “We could do so much good!”

  “By spewing my pain and suffering out into the world?” he demanded. “You want to use me to make some silly college political statement?”

  “No! That’s not what we’re doing at all!” I cried. “We want to stop these people from causing other people as much pain as they’ve caused you!”

  “By making me the face of all of the crap that’s going to come out about this?” He was angry and hurt, but I couldn’t understand why.

  “But Brian, this is a good idea! We want to stop the protests!” I said as I felt myself becoming more emotional. Couldn’t he see that we wanted to help?

  “You rich kids just don’t get it, do you?” His face grew red as he struggled to keep his voice down and not call attention to our heated argument. “You think that the world is full of like-minded people who have the same opinons you have and that if you just tell people to stop doing whatever you think is unfair, they will.”

  “Now that’s unfair,” I lowered my voice to try and calm him down, but I felt myself getting mad at his judgmental attitude. “We’re not trying to tell anyone how to live their lives, we’re just trying to help you!”

  “Have you ever thought about the fact that maybe I don’t want your help?” Brian asked as he leveled his gaze. “Did you ever ask me what I wanted? No, you did not. That’s because you rich college kids think you know everything that’s best for everyone. You’re so arrogant and privileged that you can’t look beyond your own lives and see that other people don’t live the way you do.”

  “What does that have to do with anything?” I angrily asked.

  “It has to do with the fact that those people who are protesting have every right to protest, and that if it hurts my poor little feelings, then I need to get over it, okay?” he said in a tone that could only be described as petulant.

  “What in the hell is going on with you?” I was astounded at the rapid shift in our conversation and could not understand why Brian was so angry at me for wanting to spare other service members the pain he’d experienced at his best friend’s funeral.

  “Just leave it alone,” he said as he exited the booth and headed for the door. “I’ll be outside waiting when you’re done.”

  I made no move to stop him as he stalked toward the door and shoved it open with a force that loudly rung the bells looped over the handle. I think if he could have slammed the door behind him, he would have done it.

  *****

  I finished my lunch, paid the bill, and then walked outside. Brian was leaning against the front of the restaurant looking at his phone and furiously typing out something on the screen. As soon as he saw me, he disconnected and shoved the phone in his pocket.

  “Oh, please don’t let me interrupt,” I said i
n a dry tone. I was mad at him for refusing to even try to see my point of view and for accusing me of being a spoiled rich girl simply because he didn’t agree with me.

  “You didn’t,” he said. “Back to the dorm?”

  “Yes, please,” I replied and began walking. Brian followed about 10 steps behind, and since I was mad, I set a fast pace.

  The whole walk back I silently cursed him for being so stubborn and pigheaded, and by the time we reached the room, I was ready to explode. Instead, I entered the room, leaving the door open, grabbed my Psych book, and flopped down on the bed with the book open to a random page as I continued to fume. Brian entered the room, quietly shut the door and then sat on the couch flipping through his phone in silence.

  “What are you studying?” he asked after a few minutes.

  “None of your damn business!” I snapped.

  “Really? Is that a lesson in psychology?” he asked with a serious expression. “I had no idea that there was a chapter on none of your damn business. What does it say?”

  “It says that it’s none of your damn business!” I shouted. “Now shut up and let me study!”

  “Oh now, that’s just obstinance,” he observed.

  “What are you even talking about?”

  “I’m sure that being educated and all, you know that the root of obstinance is not in achieving some aim in reality, but in establishing a subjective feeling of superiority, right?” he said casually as he continued poking at the screen of his phone.

  “Ha ha. Very funny,” I replied, not at all amused. “Yes, you’re smart. You know things. Now know this: I don’t want to talk to you anymore.”

  “Okay, your call,” he said with a shrug. “I was just trying to be helpful.”

  I sat on my bed trying hard to contain the rage that was building inside me, but watching him mess with his phone only made it worse, and after a few minutes, I blew.