Bad Roommate: Never Room With A Player

by Terry Towers

  It was just strange.

  Closing the cabinet door under the bathroom sink, I straightened and looked myself over in the oval mirror. Running a hand through my hair, I examined my jaw from both sides, almost time to shave. I generally tried to keep my jawline with a little scruff. Clean shaven gave me a babyface, but if it got too long, it made me look like a damned hillbilly – I had to maintain a perfect balance in between.

  Opening the door, I watched Felicity from the bathroom doorway putting the dishes from our pizza dinner away. We were both lovers of meat only pizza, a woman after my own heart. Despite my curiosity about her, I also felt a familiarity in her presence. We hadn’t discussed anything in particular while we ate, but I just couldn’t help but feel drawn to her. It was nice to know we gelled. With most women, it was either them chattering away non-stop until I shut them up, or we’d sit in uncomfortable silence.

  You know you’d met someone special when you could just sit in blissful silence and feel comfortable. Not that I was into her like that. She was definitely my type, but it all came back to not wanting to fuck up something that might potentially be very good. My situation with her was just too good.

  “Thought you’d got yourself lost in there,” she joked, looking over her shoulder smiling, hearing me cross the living room and into the kitchen.

  “Need any help?” I asked, looking around the kitchen knowing there wasn’t a thing to help with.

  “No, I’m done here.”

  “This kitchen is spotless.” Looking around, there wasn’t a single thing out of place. It had to be the cleanest kitchen I’d ever seen. My mother had been a clean freak, but this woman put even my mother to shame.

  Planting her fists on her hips, she looked up at me hitting me with a stern look. “And it’s going to keep that way. I’m not your momma or your maid.”

  Chuckling, I put my hands up from front of me and took a step back. “Whoa, settle it down there. I assure you, the man standing here was raised by a woman that valued a clean and tidy house. I wouldn’t be so foolish as to mess up a woman’s kitchen.”

  Her aqua blue eyes narrowed at me making me wonder what color was behind those vibrant colored contact lenses, my guess was brown. “And I expect the common area of the apartment to be immaculate as well. What you do in your room doesn’t matter to me, I just ask that you respect the common area.”

  “I promise I can do that.”

  The tension in her body visibly relaxed and a smile spread across her lips. She gave me a definitive nod of her head that almost made me laugh. “Good then.”

  Taking a couple steps backwards, I leaned against the wall and crossed my arms over my chest. “So what do you do for a living? You haven’t really said much about yourself, or asked me much either?”

  She shrugged. “Not much to say really. I work from home. I’m a freelance editor, so Misty and I spend a lot of time alone together in the apartment. Sometimes we work in the park when it’s not too crowded with people.” She looked over at the dog fast asleep on her fluffy pink dog bed and affection shone in her eyes. “Good thing dogs like to be with their owner twenty-four seven.”

  “What about dates? And boyfriends?”

  With a sigh, she shrugged. “Well, there hasn’t been any since the ex. Just not something I’m interested in jumping into again. Not anytime soon. I haven’t had the best of luck when it comes to relationships in general. I’m swamped with work now anyhow.”

  “Right…” I was tempted to dig a little deeper into the whole ex. Maybe the ex was the trigger for the makeover? Lots of women tend to make changes in themselves after a break-up, especially break-ups that cut them deep. It seemed to be a sort of cleansing for them.

  “It is,” she insisted, giving me a look with a sharpness in her tone that warned me not to press the matter. “I’ve got some work to get to. I have a deadline to meet. If you don’t need any help, I’ll get to it.”

  I nodded. “No, I’m good.”

  “Okay.” She strode past me and into the living room. Grabbing her laptop from the coffee table, she settled herself on the window ledge and flipped open the top.

  I watched, still nagged by the feeling of familiarity. It wasn’t until she looked up at me with her brows furrowed before I realized I’d been staring. Clearing my throat, I ran my tongue along my bottom lip, thinking of something to ask before I ended up looking like I fucking idiot. “What types of stories do you edit?”

  She cheeks reddened and she laughed lightly. “All types really. But I do my best work spicing up erotic romance.”

  The way she squirmed on the seat told me there was more to it than that. Cocking a brow up at her, I took a couple steps into the room. “You mean sex books.”

  She huffed, the rosy hue deepening. “I mean erotic romance. And I edit the books, not write them. I’m just elevating the author's stories – that’s all. The ideas and content are all theirs. I just make changes and fix technical stuff for the most part.”

  “Right…” Chuckling, I turned and entered my room, pausing at the door just long enough to call over my shoulder. “I know what that means.” My cute little roommate had a spicy side to her – I liked it. Maybe a little too much.

  Looking at the stack of boxes needing to unpack, I groaned. Might as well get it over and done with. Ogling my new roommate wasn’t going to get the work done.

  Chapter 4

  Felicity

  “Where are you heading?” I gave a startled yelp at the sound of Carrington’s voice in my ear. With my hand grasping the door handle I about to leave. He hadn’t been kidding when he’d said he was a quiet roommate. I’d barely heard a peep from him since the previous evening. I’d kinda thought he’d gone to work and I hadn’t noticed him leaving.

  “Out for a jog.”

  “By yourself?” He nodded to Misty who was lounging on the sofa. “Doesn’t she get to go?”

  “She’s old and has issues with her hips. She doesn’t care to jog. I can get her jogging from time to time though. I took her out this morning for a little walk and usually take her before bed for a few minutes. It’s as much as she cares to have for exercise.”

  Releasing the door handle, I took a couple steps back and peeked around him and into his room. Everything was already set up and organized. There was an easel in the corner covered with a white fabric tarp. Beside the easel was a wooden rack of painting supplies. He even had a large, clear, thick plastic mat on the floor under the easel to protect the dusty rose-colored carpet from paint. I had to give him credit, he was very neat and organized.

  “You’re all set up already. Impressive.”

  He stepped aside and shrugged. “Yeah, I didn’t have a huge amount of stuff. I try to keep my life as uncluttered as possible. House… work… relationships... Whatever it is, I like to keep it simple and uncomplicated.”

  I didn’t miss the mention of relationships. “Relationships, huh? So you’re a player then?”

  He chuckled and rolled his eyes. “I wouldn’t go that far.”

  “You wouldn’t, huh?” I refrained myself from reminding him about his email address.

  “Seems you’re about to start digging for information, so how about you put that on hold until I get on a pair of jogging pants and then I can join ya. I’ll give you all the dirt you want while we jog.”

  My eyes narrowed as I looked up at him. I didn’t care to have people join me for jogs. I still had big girl insecurities. In high school, the popular girls used to run behind me in gym class and make fun of my fat ass jiggling as I did my best to jog along the track. I could still hear their taunts in the back of my mind. It was irrational, I knew that, but many of the scars I received over those teen years had cut deep and were a part of my psyche now.

  “I’ll buy ya a chili dog at the vendor down the street on the way home.” Turning from me, he didn’t wait for an answer as he went to his tall five-drawer dresser and pulled open the bottom drawer, grabbing a pair of gray sweatpants. Not botherin
g with being modest, he undid his jeans and pushed them down, leaving just a t-shirt and pair of black boxers. I turned my head, but not before catching sight of the bulge pressing against his underwear.

  “I could’ve given you some privacy.”

  “Nah. We’re roomies, nothing to hide from me.”

  Yeah, says you, I groaned inwardly. “I never even said you could come with me. Maybe I enjoy the solitude.”

  “Your whole life is about solitude.”

  He had me there.

  “Are you decent yet?”

  “Depends on what you mean by decent, but yeah, I have pants on now.”

  Turning to face him, my eyes were immediately drawn to the front of his jogging pants. The large outline of his dick was there, nearly as predominant as when he was wearing just the boxers. I swear, gray sweatpants on men were the equivalent of a push-up bra for women.

  Quickly, I turned from him and grasped the door handle again. Opening it up, I sprinted into the hallway, leaving the door wide open in my wake. “You’d better be able to keep up or I’ll leave ya in my dust.”

  A smile spread across my lips as I heard him chuckle and the door close. Instead of the elevator, I opted for the stairs. The elevator would be my prize for the jog on the way back up. Even though I spent a fair amount of time trying to stay fit now that I’d lost my teenage weight, fifteen floors of stairs after a long jog would be the death of me.

  As suspected, it didn’t take him long to catch up and pass me in the stairwell. He was in as good of shape as he’d been when we were younger. Maybe even better. By the time we reached the bottom of the stairwell and burst into the lobby, I was already breathing hard.

  “So where do we go from here?” he asked as we jogged across the lobby and out the front doors. His breathing didn’t even appear elevated. “Doesn’t matter to me. I just jog until I wear down and then head on home. I take a different route each time just to keep it spiced up.”

  “You’re a wild one then, aren’t ya?” he teased, giving me a wink before proceeding left.

  “The wildest,” I muttered to myself, taking off after him. My life was as boring as they get. I was in New York City for fuck’s sakes, but I lived mostly in solitude, he’d called that right.

  “If that’s the case, you should show me a good time one of these nights,” Carrington said as I reached him.

  “What are you talking about?”

  “You stated you’re the wildest. I’d be interested to see just how wild you can get.”

  Oh damn, the man has fucking Vulcan hearing. “It’s called sarcasm.”

  Sensing I was struggling to keep up with his strides, he slowed his pace. “You do this often.”

  “Only with special people.”

  He grinned, cocking a brow at me. “So talk to me about this wild life of yours. Where are you from? The city or are you originally a Jersey girl?”

  Shit. If I told him the city I was from – we were from – he’d immediately start to dig and see if we knew some of the same people. But I didn’t want to lie either. I knew I’d have to deal with these questions, but hadn’t had time to prepare answers to them yet.

  “Yeah, Jersey.” Maybe I could just keep it vague.

  “No shit. Me too. Paterson to be exact.”

  “Ahh, why’d you move to New York?”

  “To tattoo and I was hoping my art would be discovered more easily if I was in the center of it all.” We came to an intersection and stopped. Pulling the small backpack from my back, I unzipped it and pulled a water bottle from inside. Twisting off the top, I took a long, refreshing drink as the walk light turned on and we proceeded across as part of a sea of pedestrians. It was close to suppertime, so everyone was getting off work, making the sidewalk traffic even more dense than normal.

  “I’m still trying to get used to the crowds.”

  “How long have you been in New York?”

  “Six months. Before the motel I was couch surfing. I tried to jump into my art feet first, but I’ve realized that tattooing will need to take priority if I want to eat and have a roof over my head. I’ve killed my savings already.”

  “Money goes fast living here. I moved here right out of college and had dreams of working at one of the big publishing houses.”

  “What happened?” Without being offered, he took the water bottle from me and drank the remainder, stuffing the empty bottle back into my backpack that I’d placed over my shoulder, zipping it back up.

  “Excuse you! I only brought one.”

  “I’ll buy the next one.”

  “You gotta learn some boundaries, buddy,” I teased.

  Chuckling, we didn’t go back to jogging when we cleared the intersection instead, keeping a casual walking pace. “We’re living together. We’re going to get to know each other’s bathroom habits, too late to worry about boundaries now. So, what happened with the publishing houses?”

  “It was harder to get into than I’d expected. There are jobs, but the good ones are a “know someone and get hired” type of deal. I worked for one for a while but found being a freelance editor full-time gave me more flexibility and ended up paying better. I just have to work a lot. You know what they say about entrepreneurs, you work seventy hours a week to avoid working forty.”

  “Ever thought about writing your own book?”

  I shrugged. “I have, but there’s a lot of work that goes into it besides the writing. I’m not sure if I want the headache of all that. I like what I do. Maybe in the future, but it’s not a goal for me anytime soon.” I kept to myself that I had a novel already complete with visions of a series, but I wasn’t willing to share that yet.

  He gave me a wicked little smile, making my heart do a little pitter-patter in my chest. “Maybe you just haven’t been inspired enough.”

  Laughing, I pulled the tie from my ponytail which was beginning to sag, and pulled my hair into a tighter ponytail at the top of my head. I hair was cut relatively short but had just enough length to fit into a tiny ponytail. “Why am I getting the feeling you’re flirting with me?”

  “Now that, Felicity, is your imagination. Everyone knows it’s a bad idea to flirt with your opposite sex roommate.”

  Giving him the side-eye, I began to jog pulling ahead of him a tad. “Right. Or maybe you’re just such a big flirt that you don’t even realize you do it anymore.” Even though it wasn’t a possibility to be with him, I couldn’t help the part of me that’d started to warm up. I had to remember how he treated me all those years ago. Him flirting with me now was just a reminder of who he was and what he was really like. He was a player when we went to school together and I doubted he’d changed.

  “It’s called being friendly.” He easily caught up to me and met my pace.

  “Right.”

  “Okay, I’m starting to sense you’re trying to say something without actually saying it.”

  I groaned inwardly as I slowed to walking and entered the park. “Okay, how many women do you have on speed dial?” I crinkled my nose up at him as he stood before me.

  “I don’t know.” He ran a hand through his dark hair avoiding meeting my stare.

  “Okay.” Planting my hands on my waist, I tried to remove the hostility I felt. “If you wanted to get laid, how easy would it be to dial a number and have a girl in your bed tonight?”

  “Oh Felicity. Fuck. I guess there’d be a few if I was really desperate for someone.”

  “How many actual relationships have you been in?”

  He looked uncomfortable, the muscles in his neck tightening. “Not everyone is looking for that type of commitment in their lives at our age. What’s the rush to settle down? It’s like society expects us to be monogamous. Why can’t we just enjoy whoever runs across our path and move on?”

  Flashes of the night he’d dumped me came to mind, once more rehashing the whirlwind of feelings I’d had back then. He’d broken my young heart that night. It may have been over a decade later, but I wasn’t ready to for
give or forget. He wasn’t my friend. He was my roommate, that’s it. Done and done.

  “Like I said before. Player. The world is full of them and you’re just one of many.” Deciding it was time to head home, I spun on my heel and jogged back the way we came with Carrington trailing behind me. I ignored his callouts for me to stop so we could discuss it further. There wasn’t anything to discuss in my mind.

  Chapter 5

  Carrington

  Felicity was an odd one. One minute she was warm and friendly, almost to the point of being flirty, and the next she’d give me the cold shoulder. It’d been going on since I moved in, over a week ago at this point. Maybe I reminded her of her ex and so she was extra guarded around me? I didn’t really know. If she’d had any pictures anywhere, maybe I’d be able to judge for myself – but she didn’t.

  So tonight, I’d get to the bottom of this once and for all.

  She didn’t seem to be much of a drinker claiming alcohol slowed the metabolism. But she’d mentioned a particular type of vodka cooler that she loved so I’d gone out and found it for her, stopping by the brewery next door to the tattoo shop and grabbing myself a case of some delicious beers while I was at it.

  The comment she’d made in the park hit me harder than I’d care to admit. While some men may relish the idea of being considered a player, I wasn’t one of them. Sure, I may not be the kind of guy that was ready to settle down, but I certainly didn’t manipulate women. I was always very forthcoming about my intentions. The ball was in their court on how they wanted to use that knowledge. Perhaps I’d been in my younger years, but I liked to think I’d matured since high school.

  Felicity had a meeting with a publisher today and wasn’t due back for another half hour which gave me plenty of time to set the table and have dinner ready for us. She didn’t give me the opportunity to buy her that chili cheese dog the other day, so I stopped by Vesario’s Pizzeria who claimed to have the best pasta in all of Manhattan and had gotten us a large meat pizza and an order of breadsticks. We’d call it a peace offering.