Page 6 of Brazen Criminals

There are not enough options. They’re all too expensive, too far, or not available until October. Only one place looks promising.

The hum of the shower drifts into the kitchen. God, why would Bryce do this to me?

I can’t tell if I’m furious or heartbroken. My lungs aren’t working right, and my heart sounds like waves instead of a drum in my ears.

Shaking, I make the call. It’s this or nothing. I don’t even have a car I can camp in while I figure things out.

The phone rings three times before a deep voice answers. “Hello?”

Am I really doing this? “Hi. My name is Clara, and I saw you had an opening for a roommate. Is that room still available?”

There’s a pause on the other end of the line. “Yeah, it’s still available.”

“Could I come and take a look at it?” I ask.

“What time?”

I glance at the clock. “I could be there around 11:30?”

“We’ll be here,” he says, hanging up.

The quiet phone mocks me. Looking at the bathroom door breaks me. How could Bryce kick me out like this? We lived together fine last year. Have I really changed so much over the summer that I’m no longer roommate material? Am I still girlfriend material?

What happened to being part of his future?

Well, at least I won’t be homeless. Thirty minutes of searching, and I found an okay listing. Right price, right place. That’s good, right? Maybe I should be proud of myself?

That’s right, I’m a resourceful bitch. And unless my new roommates are axe murderers or criminals or something, I can make anything work. I’m good at adapting, at fitting in.

I dash the tears from my cheeks, snatch the spare key from a bowl on the island, and head for the bus. It’s time to go make the best of a shitty-ass situation.

Chapter 2

Clara

Theoldwoodporchsqueaks as I climb the steps. The house is larger and better kept than its neighbors—I don’t see any broken windows or hasty patched holes. No couches in the yard either. Next door, a drunk frat guy wolf whistles as I ring the doorbell. This is not the best off-campus housing, but it’s probably as good as I’m going to find with my pathetic budget.

The door opens, and a tall guy with dark red hair, broad shoulders, and angry blue eyes stares down at me. “You Clare?”

“Clara. I’m Clara,” I say.

He grunts and opens the door wider, stalking into the house, not waiting for me. I spend a half second on the porch, honestly considering the merits of running away. I am pretty fast. Only, I have no intention of being homeless because Bryce had a temper tantrum, so I guess this is it. Sighing, I follow the grumpy muscleman inside.

At least the interior is nice. It’s clean, with tasteful accents. Maybe it came pre-furnished? I pass what must be an old parlor, which is set up for reading and maybe meditation, with pillows all over the floor and books piled in the corners. The stairs up to the bedrooms are straight ahead, but the grumpy guy turns to the right, and I trail him into the living room.

Three other guys are sitting there. Four guys—but not one girl. Shit. As I come in, a blond guy with bright green eyes and an infectious grin hops off the couch. “Come in, have a seat,” he says, moving around the coffee table. “Can I get you some water or something?”

I’m surprised when I feel a smile cut across my face. “No thanks, I’m good.”

A guy at the other end of the couch, who appears of Asian descent, looks up from a sketchbook, his dark eyes glowing. “I’ll take something,” he says, tucking his pencil behind his ear.

The last guy, Black with natural curls flopping over his soft brown eyes, looks up from his phone. “Me too, if you’re taking orders, man.”

Broody redhead thumps down in the other open chair and says nothing.

The blond guy disappears through a door at the back of the room. The only seat available is on the couch, and two of the guys already have claimed spots there. If I steal the blond guy’s corner seat, he’s going to plop down right next to me. I’m not sure I want to sit so close to him—I don’t even know his name.

It’s obvious these guys aren’t thrilled with me here. Both the angry redhead and the artist are looking at me, but neither is smiling. I mean, I’m not delighted to be here at the moment either, so maybe I shouldn’t judge. Ugh. Am I really considering living with three grumpy hotties and one nice guy? No one has even introduced themselves yet. Do they have any manners at all? How in the world is this going to work?

---