Tempt Thy Neighbor (Roommate Romps)

by Teagan Hunter

  I don’t know why, but the way Jessa requests our presence makes the hairs on the back of my neck stand at attention.

  I turn to April, whose eyes are also wide with trepidation. “Give me a minute?”

  She nods. “Of course.”

  As casually as I can, I drift my eyes to Sutton.

  He’s wearing a blank look, one I can’t read, as he breezes past me and into the office.

  With a steadying breath, I follow him, closing the door behind me.

  “Please, take a seat,” Jessa says, waving at the two chairs sitting across from her.

  We sit at the same time, but Jessa doesn’t.

  No, she stands over us, drumming her long nails on her desk, shrewd eyes bouncing back and forth between us.

  The air in the office is thick, the tension obvious to all. My hands are beginning to sweat, and I want to rub them on my legs but don’t want to give away my nerves.

  After what feels like years under her watchful gaze, she sits, back pressed straight.

  “You know, Holland,” Jessa begins, folding her hands together on top of her desk, “when I suggested you help Sutton find a place to live, I didn’t really think it would end with you two living together.”

  My eyes widen.

  Is that what this is about? She knows we’re living together?

  “I, uh, didn’t either,” I tell her. “I got that place downtown, and we both know how pricey it is.” I force a smile, but she doesn’t return it. “It wasn’t long until I realized I’d need a roommate to afford the rent. Like you said, Sutton and I are old friends, so I figured I’d reach out to him and see if he was interested.” I shrug. “It made sense at the time.”

  “Yeah,” Sutton backs me up. “I was grateful for the offer too. Lord knows I wasn’t going to be able to stay in that hotel forever.”

  We both know it’s a lie. Sutton could have afforded that hotel easily.

  “Is it a problem that we live together?” he asks for me because I can’t seem to find my voice right now.

  “Normally, it wouldn’t be.”

  Normally.

  The word lingers in the air between us.

  My gut sinks to my toes.

  “How long have you two been together?”

  My heart stops beating.

  Time stands completely still.

  There is no sound in the office other than the tick, tick, ticking of the clock.

  I’m not sure how long we sit in silence, waiting for someone to say something.

  Then finally, Jessa opens her laptop and slides it around to face us.

  “There’s no use denying it,” she says. “The evidence is right here.”

  I sit forward on the cushiony chair, taking in the slew of photos.

  Though luckily you can’t see my breasts, which were definitely out, and my face is covered by my hair, it’s obvious that it’s me and Sutton in his car.

  I’m sitting on his lap, my mouth open as I moan.

  I remember that moment. It was right before I came, his finger playing between my cheeks. It was the most intense orgasm of my life.

  She snaps the lid closed.

  “Where did you get those?” Sutton growls, and I’m not sure if it’s because he’s mad that we’ve been caught or that there’s a photo of us in such a compromising position.

  “It was emailed to me last night,” Jessa explains, looking right at Sutton. “Which is exponentially more disappointing after I made you the job offer just three days ago, when I know Holland was wearing this dress.”

  My jaw drops, and I whip my head toward Sutton.

  He doesn’t look at me. He’s too busy staring straight forward, ignoring me.

  Jessa shakes her head. “To say I’m disappointed would be a great understatement. You two may be new here, but you’ve worked so hard in a short amount of time and you’ve easily become my top two employees. I’m devastated that you would go behind my back with this, especially when you were the top candidates for the project manager promotion.”

  Sutton got the promotion, and I was runner-up.

  He won.

  I lost.

  I lost everything.

  And with the way he’s reacting right now, I’m not even sure if it was worth it.

  “I do hope your little tryst was worth it,” Jessa says, “because you’re both fired. Pack your things. I expect you to be cleared out within the hour.”

  Sutton leaves without another word.

  Me? I can’t move. My legs are too shaky.

  “W-Who sent the photo?” I ask.

  “It doesn’t matter.”

  “It does to me. I have friends in this office, and I’d like to know who it is that I can’t trust.”

  She sighs. “Well, at least you were honest about not sending those emails to Larry. After you swore to me it wasn’t you, I had IT do some digging. We found that Emma has been emailing Larry from her personal email on her work computer for months now. The style of those emails matched the ones from your computer. When I confronted her, she sent over these photos and told me she wouldn’t be back at work. She and Larry have been having an affair for months, and they’ve run off together to Vegas to get married.” She runs a hand through her hair. “It’s been a hell of a week.”

  It was Emma sending those emails, not Sutton? Then why did he take the blame for it? Why did he let me believe it was him?

  “Thank you for telling me. For what it’s worth, I am sorry, Jessa.”

  She gives me an apologetic look. “I’m sorry too, Holland. You would have made a great asset to this company for many years to come.”

  When I exit the office, Sutton is nowhere to be found.

  I try hard to ignore the stares and the murmurs as I quietly collect my things into a small box I commandeer from the supply closet, and without saying goodbye to anyone, I leave.

  When I reach the elevator, there he is.

  He’s leaning against the wall, chin tucked to his chest, waiting for me.

  His head snaps up when he hears my heels on the floor.

  Ignoring him, I jam the down button.

  The elevator opens immediately, and I step in, smashing down the Close Door button with haste.

  But he makes it on before the doors shut.

  We make it one whole floor before he speaks.

  “Holls, I—”

  “No,” I snap at him. “No. I don’t want to hear it.”

  “But I—”

  “No! There is nothing you can say right now to make this any better.”

  “I—”

  “Do you think I’m stupid, Sutton?” I hold up a hand when his mouth opens. “Wait. Don’t answer that. Clearly you do.”

  “I don’t. I don’t think you’re stupid at all.”

  “Were you just not going to tell me about the promotion, then? Or were you just going to leave me again? Use me and leave me again, Sutton.”

  His jaw clenches, and I know I’m right.

  I shake my head. “And here I’d thought you finally changed. Thought you weren’t the snobbish asshole you’ve always been.”

  “I have changed,” he insists.

  “Then how could you not tell me about this? How could you look me in the eye and fuck me and not tell me you were leaving?”

  “But now I don’t have to. We don’t have anything standing in the way of us anymore.”

  “You!” I scream. “We have you!”

  The elevator stops, and without a backward glance, I walk away.

  He lets me.

  I make it home before Sutton and waste no time packing a bag.

  He can have the apartment. I don’t want it.

  All it will do is remind me of him, and I don’t need those memories.

  When I’m finished grabbing my things, I pack a bag for Artemis.

  She hops up onto my bed, staring at me with curious eyes.

  “What?” I ask when she won’t stop staring.

  Meow.

  “You don’t
even like him.”

  Meow.

  “He’s an asshole.”

  Meow.

  “He can’t even snuggle you.”

  Meow.

  “He’s—”

  Meow.

  “I know. I’ll miss him too.”

  My heart squeezes as I pick her up, slinging our bags over my shoulder.

  Not wanting to risk running into Sutton, I opt to take the stairs.

  On the first flight, I feel the tears begin to sting my eyes.

  On the second, they start to spill over.

  And by the time I reach my destination, I’m a full-blown mess, so weak in the knees I can barely knock.

  The door swings open, and Dean’s face falls, pinched tightly in anger.

  “Who the fuck am I killing?”

  And I fall into his arms.

  18

  Sutton

  I’m not okay.

  I’m not even fucking close to okay.

  Everything hurts, and not just because I’ve been sleeping on a lumpy fucking couch for the last week.

  It hurts because I lost her.

  I thought I was prepared. I thought I could do it, thought being without Holland and resisting her would be doable. Not easy, but doable. I’d be able to manage.

  I was fucking wrong.

  I’m a miserable sack of shit without her.

  The worst part? It’s all my fault, too.

  If I could have just resisted her in the first place. If I just hadn’t let her tempt me, none of this would have happened. We could have gone on living as roommates and ignoring each other like we originally planned.

  But I’m a selfish asshole, and I couldn’t keep my hands to myself.

  “Jesus, kid. You’re driving me nuts with all this moping around.” She whacks at my feet. “Get your shoes off my table.”

  Last week after everything blew up in my face, I couldn’t go back to the apartment knowing Holland was there. I couldn’t face her. Couldn’t bear to see that look of disappointment on her face.

  So, I ran to Alma, and luckily, since I’m the favorite nephew, she’s been letting me crash on her couch ever since.

  I drag my foot to the floor, and Alma flops down onto a cushion next to me.

  “All right, you’ve been lying on my couch weeping into your pillow”—I glare at her because I most definitely have not been weeping—“for the last week and you haven’t told me anything about what’s happened. So, let’s hear it.”

  I clamp my lips tighter together, not ready to get into it yet.

  But Alma being Alma, she won’t let it go.

  “I’m gonna guess it has something to do with that girlfriend of yours.”

  “She’s not my girlfriend,” I say gruffly.

  Alma rolls her eyes. “All right, then, your fuck buddy.”

  I can’t help but laugh. “Shit, Alma.”

  She shrugs. “What? Isn’t that what the kids are calling it these days?”

  I shake my head. “No, definitely not.”

  Although I’m not entirely sure about that answer. I have no clue what the slang terms are nowadays for what Holland and I have been doing.

  Because whatever it was, it definitely didn’t feel like just fucking.

  When I don’t say anything for another minute, she starts in again.

  “Well, are you going to tell me, or am I going to have to call her to find out what’s up?”

  “You have her number?”

  Alma nods. “Of course I have her number. She’s coming to bingo with me next Saturday. When she tried to cancel—don’t worry, I guilted her into going—I figured my suspicions were right and you two had broken up. So what did you do?”

  “Why do you assume I did something?”

  “Well, because you’re you.”

  I laugh at the way she says it because we both know I’ve had my fair share of screwups.

  “I got a promotion.”

  “That’s a good thing, isn’t it?”

  “It’s supposed to be. But at work there was a strict no-fraternization rule and, well…”

  “You two were definitely fraternizing,” she finishes.

  “Yeah. That.”

  I hate the use of the past tense. It makes it all feel a little too real.

  That lump that’s been floating between my throat and chest for weeks makes itself known again.

  “I assume you were going to say yes to the promotion before you two were found out.”

  I nod. “Yes, but I had a week to let my boss know I was accepting it and…I kind of hid the promotion from Holland for days.”

  “So you used her?”

  I wince. “Well, when you say it like that…”

  “I can see why she told you to fuck off.” Alma shakes her head. “You’re an asshole.”

  “Hey!” I say. “What the hell?”

  “Don’t you hey me. You’re an asshole. You knew you were going to have to break it off with her and yet you strung her along for days, and if you hadn’t gotten caught, it would have been a week. How do you think she felt when she found out you did that?”

  Probably like shit.

  I know I felt like shit doing it.

  But I couldn’t give her up. I wasn’t ready.

  I’m still not ready.

  “You know, you’ve done some dumb things over the years, but I think letting the girl you’re madly in love with go for a job promotion you don’t even really want is probably the dumbest. You’re making me reconsider who my favorite nephew is.”

  Now that is a low blow. We both know how awful Thomas is.

  “I’m not in love with her,” I growl.

  She laughs. “Yes, you are. You are very much in love with her. And I think if you’re being perfectly honest with yourself, you’ve been in love with her for a long damn time.”

  I open my mouth to argue, but the words don’t come.

  She’s wrong. I’m not in love with Holland. I can’t be. She’s Holland.

  She’s a pain in my ass. Obnoxious on a good day. A damn know-it-all too.

  She’s…well, she’s creative. And really damn good at her job. Brilliant. She’s got a great rack. Plus, she’s funny and keeps me on my toes. Can spar with the best of them. And to my surprise, I’ve come to enjoy her company quite a bit…in and out of the bedroom.

  But do I love her? No.

  “Are you really sitting there thinking of all the ways to convince yourself you’re not in love with her?”

  “You know, I really don’t appreciate you being in my head right now.”

  She ignores me. “Do me a favor. Close your eyes.”

  “No.”

  She hits me with a glare. “Close your damn eyes, Sutton, or I’ll kick you right off this couch you love crying on so much.”

  “Fine.” With a sigh, I sit back and close my eyes. “They’re closed.”

  “All right. Now, tell me what you see.”

  “Well, nothing because my eyes are fucking closed.”

  She whacks me in the back of the head. “Bet you didn’t see that coming either.”

  “Ow! Shit, Alma.” I rub at the back of my head. “That fucking hurt.”

  “Quit being a baby. Keep your damn eyes closed.”

  I squeeze my eyes tight.

  “Now,” she starts again, “when you sit there and you think about your life, tell me what you see. What is it that makes you happy?”

  A flash of Holland with her head thrown back in laughter floats across my mind.

  “What do you see when you’re sad?”

  Holland upset at me for not telling her about the promotion and the tears that were threatening to spill over her eyes.

  That one hurts.

  “What do you see when you’re most fulfilled?”

  I see Holland with her feet in my lap, the tablet in her hand, reading one of those filthy romance novels while I pretend to watch TV but am really watching her.

  “Now, when you sit there and think ab
out what you want most in this world, what do you see?”

  Holland.

  I see her laughing at some stupid pervy joke I’ve made. I see her pouring that disgusting ketchup all over the scrambled eggs I’ve worked hard on. I see her getting angry at me for splashing her with pool water for the millionth time. And I see her with her head thrown back in a moan as she comes on my cock.

  I see all the good and the ugly and the moments in between.

  I see her.

  “Now open your eyes and look at me and tell me you’re not madly in love with that girl.”

  I don’t open my eyes.

  She chuckles softly beside me. “Yeah, that’s what I thought, kid. So fix it.”

  I finally peel my eyes open and look at her. “How?”

  She shrugs. “I don’t know, but you better figure it out fast because the longer you stay away from her, the longer she has to stay mad. And you don’t want to give her more time to find more reasons to be angry with you.”

  Fix it.

  Fuck.

  How the hell am I going to do that?

  She pats me on the shoulder and rises from the couch.

  “Hey, Alma?”

  She turns back to me. “Hmm?”

  “How did you know I didn’t even want that promotion?”

  She shrugs. “Call it a gift, but I can just see that you don’t love what you do. I don’t think you’ve ever loved what you do. It’s a job your father picked for you, and just because you’re good at it doesn’t mean you have to do it.”

  Shit. She’s completely right.

  “What did you do?” I ask. She lifts her brows, not understanding. “After you left the family, I mean—what did you do when you no longer had someone dictating your life?”

  “Well, since I was pregnant, I didn’t have the luxury of taking time to figure out what to do other than take care of my baby. But when your cousin was about ten, I finally had the breathing room to figure it out. So I took time. For myself. With myself. With the ones I loved. And I figured out what made me happy and what I wanted to do.”

  “How did you know what it was?”

  “I don’t think anyone ever truly knows. It’s just something that finds you along the way. And when it does, you’ll know if it’s right or not.”

  “Do you ever miss them? The family?”

  She lifts her shoulders. “Sometimes. Sometimes I miss the brother who used to put Band-Aids on my scraped knees and steal my dolls. But then I remember they never loved me like I loved them, and at some point I just realized that was okay. Just because they’re blood doesn’t mean they’re my family. We get to choose our families. And Holland? She’s your family. So you better choose her before it’s too late.”