Page 18 of Hard to Take

I leave my brother and Rookie to set up some stuff in my room as Miles shows me around.

“No soaker tub?” I ask when he shows me the bathroom across from my room. I’m joking, but I’m kind of bummed. There’s no reason to be. The bathroom is beautiful, white marble and a huge glass shower.

“You can borrow mine. It’s in the ensuite off my bedroom.”

His room.

Where he dresses that outrageously ripped body for an athlete’s day.

Where he climbs into bed to close those dancing blue eyes.

Where he strips down to nothing and?—

“We’re ordering pizza.” My brother’s voice cuts into the haze of attraction between Miles and me.

They go to the kitchen and argue over toppings.

I go back to my room and find Waffles on the bed. “Hey, buddy. We’re going to be hanging out more.”

The Frenchie makes a noise of protest.

“He’s a bit territorial. This is his room.”

I look up to see Miles in the doorway.

“I won’t be here long. A few weeks. A month tops.”

I pull out a Sharpie and the desk calendar I bought yesterday and return to the bed, taking a seat next to Waffles as I unwrap the paper.

“You opened that for one month?” Miles drops onto the bed at my side, reaching out absently to scratch Waffles’s neck.

“It’s all I need.” I uncap my Sharpie.

First thing tomorrow, I’ll get to work.

Miles swipes the calendar from my hands before I can write on it. “You’ve barely moved in and you’re that eager to get rid of me?” He sounds less irritated than curious. “I could be the best roommate you’ve ever had.”

My fingers brushing his as I take the calendar back. I ignore the little zing of electricity between us. “Doubtful.”

I deliberately cross off today on the calendar, two wide strokes of marker.

“Come on. I’m tidy. Objectively good looking. Make a mean almond milk latte.” He grins.

I have to focus on getting my life together and getting out of here.

“What happened between us was a one-time thing,” I say, choosing my words as carefully as I’d choose an the outfit for an important event.

I rise and set the calendar square on the top of the dresser.

“I mean, it was more than one?—”

“One night.” The distinction seems important as I spin to face him. “It’s going to stay that way.”

Miles shifts back onto his elbows. He holds my stare so long I think I’m going to catch on fire.

If there was any question in my mind about our chemistry, the heat in his eyes chases it away.

But our only real connection is his loyalty to my brother, not to me.

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