Page 55 of The Temporary Roomie: Extended Edition

Instead, I put the heel of my tennis shoe on top of his toes and push down. Drew’s hold on me tightens like he’s bracing himself through the pain, but he doesn’t release me.

“Sure, sounds perfect!” I pretend I know what they are talking about, because lying is the polite thing to do.

“Oh good!” Henry claps his hands together once and then pats Richard on the arm. “You can go get the lobster out of the freezer so it’ll be thawed by the time we need to throw it on the grill.”

Wait, what! Lobster?! That’s what I agreed to?Bleh.I despise all things seafood, and while pregnant I can barely even stand the smell of it. Drew knows this, because one night when I firstmoved in he brought home lobster takeout, and I immediately threw up in the kitchen trash can.

Richard scurries off to do his husband’s bidding as Henry stands there staring at us like we are a priceless French painting he wants to hang above his fireplace. Little does he know this is all a sham. We’re not a priceless French painting; we’re a replica, laser-printed and sold for $9.99 at a bargain-hunting store.

“You two are just adorable together. I’m so happy you could come this weekend,” says Henry, making me feel terrible for lying to him.

Drew takes a giant liberty and leans down close to kiss my cheek. His scruff feels like sandpaper, and I begrudgingly love it. “We are too.”

I beam at Henry, trying out my best impression of a blushing bride, and raise my hand to squeeze Drew’s forearm affectionately. At least, it looks affectionate. He’ll sense the warning in it when my nails sink into flesh. “So happy.”

Henry remembers another item he needs to pull from the freezer (probably something equally disgusting, like pig toes or frog legs) and darts into the house after Richard. I waste no time flinging Drew’s arm off me and using my shoulder to wipe the imaginary leftover kiss from my cheek. My expression says,Bleh, you’re gross. I hate kisses.

“Knock it off, will you? Why are you touching me so much today?”

He smiles curiously. “Because I like touching you.”

“No, you don’t.”

“That’s not the way it works. Unfortunately for you, you don’t get to decide if I like touching you or not.”

I cross my arms defiantly—protectively. “Stop sayingtouching you.”

He tilts his head, a smile on his mouth. “Why?”

“Because it’s weird.”

“For me to touch you?”

I let my head fall back and groan. He’s the only person in the world who can talk circles around me. “Drew. I don’t know what game you’re playing right now, but I’m telling you toquit it.”

“I’m not playing a game.”

“It feels like one. All week you’ve been pissed at me, barely saying two words, and this morning you looked like you wanted to fight me in the kitchen. And rightfully so! I humiliated you, remember? Tangled you in a lie you’ll never be able to get out of? And I’m so mean to you all the time! You have more than enough reasons to not like me.”Please, don’t like me! Go back to hating me!

“You misread me all week. Fighting is not what I want to do with you, Jessie.”

My eyebrows fly up and my heart rate is a rapid-fire machine gun. Drew looks different today. His eyes are smoldering. He’s definitive. He’s made up his mind, and now he’s going to be the controlling Drew I used to despise until he gets his way.

I swallow and take a step away from him. He looks amused, and he closes the gap between us again. He backs me up against the porch railing and pins me in with his hands on either side. My mouth is the Sahara Desert. All my words are dried up—not an ounce of verbiage in sight.

In the most tender touch I’ve ever received, Drew brushes my hair from my temple to behind my ear. “I don’t think I’ve ever really apologized to you for what happened that morning when I overslept. I’m sorry, Jessie. I truly didn’t mean to, and I was actually looking forward to helping you that day. I was hoping it would mend the strife between us. And then . . . I made it worse by forgetting.”

I shake my head. I almost want to pin my hand across his mouth so he can’t continue apologizing. He’s ruining everything. He can’t do this to me now.

“I’m sorry. I wish so badly that I could go back in time and bring my cellphone with me into my room, set fifteen alarms. I wish I could have been there for you.”

“I don’t. Everything happened exactly as it should have. And you don’t need to say any of this—I’m not interested in you, remember? It doesn’t matter if I forgive you or not.”

He should be deterred. I made my words extra saucy and defiant, and he’s not even the least bit shaken.

His lips are grinning. “I believed that after the fundraiser. But then you spied on me on my date,” he whispers like a villain, his lips teasingly close. “And if you’re not interested in me, why do you get so flustered when I’m close to you?” Those blue eyes drop to my neck, where he then takes his knuckle and runs it up the side. “Your skin flushes every single time I touch you. Like right now.” His hand has brushed all the way up the length of my neck to just below my ear. His movement stops, and he extends his fingers over my pulse point.Crap.

His head tilts, and his eyes stare at that one point of contact. After several seconds, he finds the answer he was looking for. His smile slants, his eyes lock with mine, and his eyebrows rise.Want to know the answer, Jessica?

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