Page 14 of The Roommate Remodel

I didn’t expect an answer after I sent it off into the universe, like a corked bottle thrown off the side of a ship. But a tiny part of me hoped he would say something.Anything.

Wherever Brax was at that moment, I’ll never know. Was he in a hotel room in a strange city? Having drinks with another woman? A black smear of jealousy streaks through me.

Did he delete the message forever? Block my account? It’s all so easy now: one quickswipe,and a person is goneforever.

At least rejection comes with a response, a definitive line drawn in the sand. But ignoring a person says something far more devastating.

You are forgettable.

What’s more, I believed him when he promised to contact me. It’s the oldest line in the book, and I stupidly fell for it.

So when he showed up dressed inmyapron and pulled out his infuriating Mr. Flirty-Pants moves, all I could think about was how he hadignoredme. Disregarded every word, all attempts at basic human contact. I simply didn’t exist—or, more bluntly, I didn’t matter enough to him.

Since Lucian so conveniently offered his jersey when we first met, it felt like karma. The perfect payback for a man who prides himself on getting what he wants.

Well, he won’t have me.

Suddenly, the door swings open, and Sloan points at me with an exasperated look. “I knew you’d be hiding in here. Why were you rude to our guest?”

“Who said I was being rude?”

“Brax did,” she says. “He mentioned you’ve met before under unusual circumstances.”

“Unusual circumstances.Ha!”I exclaim, offended that our lip lock sounds like it belongs on a true crime podcast. “Did he tell youwhy?” I’m not about to let that man lure my sister over to the dark side. She needs to know the truth about Brax MacPherson, breaker of hearts and a big, fat liar pants.

Her eyes widen. “No, why?”

I grab her by the elbow and yank her inside the closet, slamming the door. We’re squished together like clowns in a circus car.

“Why are we discussing this inhere?” she asks, glancing at our cramped quarters.

We’re surrounded by an array of sugared cereals, dried pasta, and canned tuna.

A pantry shelf pokes me on my hip, and I sidestep awkwardly. “I’m hiding from Brax,obviously,”I mutter, rolling my eyes.

She frowns. “What kind of history do you have with this guy?”

When I don’t respond, she sets her hands on my shoulders and directs her gaze at me. “Jaz, tell me you didn’t date him.”

I bite my lip.

“You dated him?!” She shakes my shoulders on each syllable.

I pull away. “I didn’t date him, okay?”

For a second, she looks relieved.

“But I did kiss him. At Mia’s wedding. How do you like them pickles?”

Sloan’s mouth falls. “You kissed your best friend’s brother?”

I slowly nod, and she smacks me in the shoulder.

“Ow!” I flinch in pain and rub my shoulder. “What was that for?”

“I was being nice. I should’ve smacked you in the head.”

“It wasn’t my fault!” I protest.

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