“We have a six-hour bus drive tomorrow and a game on Saturday. Can’t really stay out late.” I stare at all the costumes and props that are covering my couch at the moment. “What happened here?”
She starts to collect the dresses that are draped over the back of the couch. “Oh, since I have so much more space, I decided to bring my stuff out of the storage unit. But I was doing a triage, and things kind of got out of hand.”
“No kidding. If you don’t mind, I’d like to have my couch back.”
Charlie winces, and that’s when I realize my words came out a little too harsh.
“Yeah, sure. I’ll get this cleaned up right away. I’m not a messy girl, I promise.” She quickens her pace, grabbing a load of clothes and tossing them back into boxes.
“Let me help you.” I bend over to grab one of the closed boxes to bring up to her room when the bottom gives out. A myriad of clothes and objects falls out but luckily nothing breakable. “Okay, who did the packing?” I stare at the mess at my feet.
“I did, and don’t give me that look. Some of those boxes got damp in storage.”
I set the damaged box aside and bend over to retrieve one specific item that caught my attention. “What kind of cosplay are you into?” I show her a wooden dildo the size of my forearm.
Her blue eyes widen behind her glasses, and her plump lips make a perfect O. “Oh my God. Give me that.” She snatches the dildo from my hand and hides it behind her back.
Her face is now brighter than a tomato, which makes me laugh.
“Hey, I’m not judging. But seriously.”
“This wasn’t part of a cosplay. This was a gag gift.”
“That you decided to keep.”
“Of course I did. It’s an antique.”
“If you say so.”
“Oh, shut up and help me clean up this mess.”
I arch both eyebrows. I can’t believe Charlie just gave me an order. “Excuse me?”
“You’re the one who dropped everything on the floor.”
“I was just trying to help. It’s not my fault you have terrible packing skills.”
“I don’t have terrible packing skills.” She throws her hands up in the air—one still clutching the megalodon of all dildos.
A burst of laughter hits me again.
“What’s so funny now?”
I stare at the object in her hand, making her roll her eyes.
“Oh, grow up.”
“That’s rich coming from the girl who still dresses up as fairies and princesses.”
Her eyes narrow as she throws me a death glare. “Are you calling me a child?”
I shrug, shoving my hands in my pockets. “If the shoe fits.”
“I knew things were too good to be true.”
“What’s that supposed to mean?” My good humor vanishes in a flash.
I sense she’s about to blow a fuse, but whatever she was planning to blurt out gets stuck in her throat.
She shakes her head and says, “Never mind. Give me ten minutes. I’ll get everything packed.”
I was still willing to help, which is fucking crazy. But I sense that if I try, it’ll only make matters worse.
Damn it. It’s our first day as official roommates, and we’ve already argued over nothing. This will only lead to a bitter coexistence or angry sex.
My cock is totally on board for the latter.
7
CHARLIE
It’s been a week since I moved in with Troy, and we’ve managed to avoid each other. Our schedules have been chaotic, and we’re barely home. The beginning of our living arrangements was rocky, to say the least. It seems we can’t be in the same room for more than five minutes before we start to argue. I’ve never met anyone who can push my buttons without even trying.
Troy had a game yesterday and didn’t come home until the early hours of the morning. I only know the exact time because the jackass made a ruckus when he came in. At least he didn’t bring a girl with him. We don’t share a wall, but I’m sure I’d hear them getting it on.
I bet he’s good in bed.
Whoa. Where did that thought come from?
You probably need to get laid, Charlie. It’s been months.
Shut up, whore!
Ugh, my conscience is being such a bitch this morning. I’d better get my mind out of the gutter pronto.
I went to Golden Oaks yesterday, so I have Sunday all to myself. I hit the gym first—I still haven’t asked Troy if I can use his home workout room. Honestly, I don’t think I’ll ever ask. I’m in total avoidance mode.
The next stop is the grocery store. I load up, so I don’t have to make another run in the middle of the week.
When I get home around noon, Troy is still sound asleep. I can hear him snoring from the hallway.
I haven’t decided yet what I’m going to do the rest of the day, but a shower is the first order of business. I’m in the middle of washing my hair when the hot jets turn into drips, followed by nothing.
I glare at the showerhead while turning the knobs. “Are you kidding me?”
Cursing, I wrap myself in a towel and test the faucet. Dry. The toilet won’t flush. Did the water company cut our water supply on a Sunday? Fuck. It can’t be for lack of payment, and they warn you when they need to cut supply for maintenance work. I bet they did send a notice, and Troy simply forgot to tell me. Son of a bitch. I’m going to kill him.
Still dripping wet, I march to his bedroom. I don’t barge in, but I do knock hard on his door.
“Troy! Get up!”
He groans, then says, “Go away!”
“No. Get your ass out here.”
I hear the sound of sheets being tossed aside, then heavy steps stomping closer. He opens the door with a yank. “For fuck’s sake! Wha—” His eyes widen. “Why are you naked and covered in soap?”
“Because I was taking a shower when suddenly the water cut off,” I grit out.
“And how is it my fault that you forgot they were going to turn off the water for a couple hours?”
“I didn’t forget! You never told me.” I gesture widely with my hands, and the towel almost comes undone.
Troy notices, and his smirk is infuriating. “I attached the notice on the kitchen board. It’s really not my fault you missed it.”
“Ugh! You’re so annoying.” I turn around and stride down the hallway. Instead of returning to my room, I run downstairs.
I have to get the shampoo out of my hair, and the only water we have in the house is Troy’s sparkling shit. I grab a few bottles, then lean over the sink to rinse my hair with his fancy bubbly crap.
“What are you doing?” he asks.
Fuck. I didn’t know he’d followed me.
“What does it look like?” I pour fizzing, ice-cold water over my head and hair, getting goose bumps immediately. Maybe I should have warmed it up in the microwave first.
“You’d better replace my Perrier,” he says.
“Yeah, sure.”
A throaty chuckle follows.
“What’s so funny?” I ask.
“Do you realize that bent over like that, you’re giving me quite a view?”
I snap back into a straight position, wincing as my now cold hair slaps against my back. “Were you ogling me?” I turn to glare at him.
He’s not smiling now, and his hungry eyes make my mouth go dry. My pulse skyrockets as I wrestle with feelings of anger and desire. I was too pissed when I banged on his door to notice Troy was only wearing boxer shorts. Now his shredded abs and chest are all I can see.
My eyes have a will of their own. They travel south… and hot tamales. My lady parts turn into flames. Troy is aroused—big time. Emphasis on big.
Damn it. I can’t fall for the trap that’s Troy’s godlike body.
“I couldn’t help but look. You were flashing your… goods.”
Heat creeps up my cheeks as I hug my middle, feeling completely exposed. “Well, don’t get any ideas. That’s all the vi
ew you’ll get.”
Summoning all the dignity I have left, I walk around him with my chin raised high. I purposely keep my pace normal, fighting the urge to run. Once in my bedroom, I begin to form a plan to protect myself from Troy’s charms. I text Vivian, asking if her offer to set me up with one of her friends still stands. It’s high time I get back into the dating scene.
* * *
TROY
Damn Charlie.
Why does she have to be so fucking hot? Now I’m sporting a raging boner, fantasizing about plunging my cock into her sweet pussy while she’s bent over the sink like before. It’s a sin for someone who I loathe so much to be that irresistible. And the worst part is that she wants me too. I saw the craving reflected in her blue eyes when she noticed my erection.
I. Cannot. Go. There.
She left a mess on the kitchen counter and on the floor. I focus on that, which helps dissolve any desire I had left. I clean up and then decide to head out for lunch. I didn’t sleep nearly enough, but I can’t go back to bed now.
After I put some clothes on, I go to one of my favorite joints, Zuko’s Diner. It’s an automatic decision. I always come here after a night of partying since they serve breakfast all day. But being here reminds me of Charlie again.
Hell. I need to get her out of my head.
I keep my sunglasses on as I stride to my usual booth; my head is pounding, so if I have to look like a douche, so be it.
“Troy?” a familiar voice calls out.
I turn slowly, and then my jaw drops. “Brooke? Holy shit. What are you doing here?” I change direction and stop next to her booth.
“I transferred to Rushmore,” she replies excitedly.
“Really? Couldn’t handle those New Yorkers, huh?”
She makes a face, furrowing her eyebrows and scrunching her nose as if she smelled something bad. “Ugh, no. They got two years of my life that I’ll never get back. I’m a California girl through and through, no matter how much my old man wants me not to be. Are you meeting someone?”
“No. I’m solo today. I have the worst hangover.”
She giggles. “I was gonna say, you do look rough. Sit with me. I can’t believe I bumped into you here.”
I slide into the seat opposite hers. “When did you get back?”
“Last week.”
“And you didn’t call me? I’m wounded.” I press my hand against my chest, pretending to be hurt.
She waves her hand dismissively. “Stop. I was going to. I had to get situated.”
“Where are you staying?”
“At a friend’s condo for now. It’s fifteen minutes from campus, but I’m hoping to find something closer. Is your grandmother still against you having roommates?”
She smiles in a persuasive way, making me uncomfortable. Like I’d ever want to live with my ex. Charlie is bad enough.
“Actually, I just got one.”
Her eyebrows shoot up. “Oh, really? Let me guess. Andy?”
I snort. “Yeah, right. Grandma would never allow him to move in. Actually, my new roommate is a girl.”
The easygoing smile wilts from her face. “Oh, you have a new girlfriend?”
Brooke seems hurt, which makes me uneasy.
We started dating in high school. She was a junior, and I, a senior. When she went to NYU, we tried the long-distance thing for six months. In the end, we decided to break up and remain friends. I hope she didn’t transfer to Rushmore, wanting to rekindle our relationship. The spark is gone. I’m not sure if it was even there to begin with.
I laugh. “No, nothing like that. She’s Grandma’s friend, and she needed to rent a room last minute.”
Brooke leans against the booth, looking relieved. “Oh, so you didn’t even know her?”
“Nope. Total stranger.”
“Is she nice?” Brooke asks casually, but I hear the double meaning of her question nonetheless.
Alarm bells sound in my head.
“Brooke, please tell me you didn’t move back to Cali for me.”
Her eyebrows shoot to the heavens. “What? Of course not. Gee, aren’t you conceited?”
I shrug. “Just checking. I’m stoked that you’re back, but we’re just friends.”
She narrows her eyes, flattening her lips. “Keep acting like an ass, and that friendship card might be revoked.”
“Okay, okay.” I flash her a dazzling smile. “Did you order already?”
“Yeah.”
I flag the waitress and put my usual order in. She returns a moment later with a big cup of steaming coffee.
Brooke waits until she’s gone to speak again. “So, you didn’t answer my question. Is your roommate nice?”
I debate telling Brooke the truth about Charlie. The answer that comes out of my mouth surprises me. “Yeah, I think so.”
Why did I lie?
“Well, I can’t wait to meet her.”
8
TROY
Another week passes, and I barely see Charlie. I should consider myself lucky, but at the same time, I secretly want to bump into her. Each one of our encounters has given me a perverted rush, and the adrenaline junkie in me craves that kind of stuff.
I just got home from the game, which we’d almost lost. If it wasn’t for that field goal near the end, we might have. I’m pissed even though I did everything I could. I love football, but lately, extreme sports have been giving me the type of satisfaction I need. I can’t stop; I have to keep moving, or bad memories will take over.
Charlie’s accusation comes to the forefront of my mind, darkening my mood. If I’m honest with myself, my anger stems from the fact that she guessed about my inner conflict. It’s not like I don’t care about football anymore; it’s just not my favorite pastime. I’d never jeopardize the team on purpose though. For her to assume that based off one game was bullshit.
Distracted, I open the small closet under the stairs to stash my duffel bag when a tower of boxes collapses on top of me.
“What the hell!”
This wasn’t here this morning. I don’t need to look inside to know this is Charlie’s cosplay crap; she’s written it neatly in block letters on top. She has a huge closet in her room. Why did she store her shit here?
Son of a bitch. It’s bad enough that she’s taken over my thoughts—I can’t stop thinking about her—but now she’s taken over my entire house.
I shove the boxes back into the closet, then go grab a beer from the fridge. I don’t want to get into an argument with her now. The boys are coming in a few, so we can chill out and plan our next trip in December when our season is over. I’m jonesing for adventure and also to get Charlie out of my system. Too bad it’s only the beginning of October.
The door opens with a bang, and Andreas comes in, carrying a case of beer. Danny follows, holding two bags full of snacks. Andreas wanted to throw a party, but I’m completely destroyed. The idea of cleaning up tomorrow makes the idea even less appealing.
“So, is your roomie home?” He sets the beer on the kitchen counter.
“Her car is parked in front of the house, so I’m assuming yes.”
“Excellent. I can’t wait to meet her.” He rubs his hands together.
“Don’t even think about it,” I warn him.
He widens his eyes innocently. “Since when can you read my mind?”
“I know you.”
“Should we order pizza now? I’m starving.” Danny opens a can of potato chips and shoves a handful in his mouth.
“Yeah, go ahead,” I tell him.
“Wait. It’s your house. Why do I have to order? I got the chips.”
Groaning, I reach for my phone. “Fine.”
The doorbell rings then, and I glare at Andreas. “You’d better not have invited anyone here.”
He raises both hands. “I didn’t. I swear.”
Suspicious, I jump off the couch and check the door through the window. There’s a guy standing outside, and judging by his posture and fidgeting, he
seems nervous. He’d better not be a salesman.
I open the door. “Can I help you?”
His eyes snap to mine, and a second later, his jaw drops. “You’re Troy Alexander.”
“Yes… and you are?”
“Ah, sorry. My name is Jacob Mueller. I’m here to pick up Charlie?”
Ugh, I hate people who end a statement as if they’re asking a question. I keep my expression neutral, but my mind is whirling. Charlie is going on a date with this guy?
I open the door wider and let him through. “I don’t think she’s ready yet.”
“Oh yeah, I’m a bit early. She didn’t mention her roommate was you.”
I shut the door hard. I’m aggravated, and I don’t know why. Who cares if Charlie is going out on a date?
“Who’s the preppy boy?” Andreas asks from the kitchen.
“I’m Jacob Mueller, Charlie’s date. You’re Andreas Rossi,” he says in awe.
“Sure am. Are you a football fan?”
The guy chuckles. “Am I a fan? Yeah, you can say that. Great game today, by the way.”
“What the fuck are you talking about? We almost lost,” I retort angrily.
The guy’s face goes paler. “I mean, yeah, but you didn’t.”
The sound of Charlie’s hurried footsteps down the stairs makes me turn. Fuck me. She’s wearing a burgundy bodycon dress that leaves nothing to the imagination. It’s a dress that screams she wants to get laid. My cock immediately reacts, but it’s fury that’s coursing through my veins now. She wants to bang a loser like Jacob Mueller?
Why do I care? Damn it!
Andreas wolf-whistles, adding fuel to my anger. I’ll never hear the end of it.
“Hi, Jacob.” Charlie smiles at the guy, completely ignoring me. “Am I late? I lost track of time.”
“You’re not late. Romeo was so nervous, he got here early,” I reply bitterly.
Charlie throws me a questioning glance, and then I see she’s wearing makeup. She went all out for this guy. An ugly emotion swirls in my chest, and it feels like jealousy. I must have suffered a head injury on the field today because that’s the only explanation for my reaction.
Heart Stopper: Rebels of Rushmore Book One Page 4
