Page 21 of Splintered Hearts

Looking back up I freeze when our eyes collide. I’m unable to breathe or look away, and Noah’s lips quirk slightly before he turns back to Bri.

Shit.

Squeezing my legs together, I stare at the drink in my hand. It’s been a long time since I hooked up with anyone, and remembering the last time I tried sobers me fast. I swallow the memory, and the shame that comes with it. I was twenty-fucking-four at the time and tried an app. It’s too fucking mortifying to even think about.

Coming back down to earth and reality, my hand tightens around the can. “Hey.”

“Jesus!” I glare at Hunter as he takes the seat beside me. “What?”

“Not a very nice way to treat your roommate.”

“You’re not my roommate. You’re moving in with that psychopath.”

“Leaving one to live with another. I never learn,” Hunter teases. “Why are you still mad at me?”

“I’m not mad.” I’m not. I’m happy for him. I am. Hunter’s moving on with his life. He has a new job, and a place with the man who loves him. Xavier’s going back to school after taking a couple of years off. Bri’s attending beautician classes while working at a salon several towns over. Everyone’s working on their dreams, and I... well, I’m here.

In the same house.

Dealing with the same bullshit.

Day in. Day out.

“I am happy for you.” Hunter deserves everything good in his life.

“Careful, you may burst a blood vessel.”

“Fuck off.

“Serious talk.” Hunter loops his arm through mine. “I’m not going anywhere. I’m just ten minutes away if you need anything. I mean it.”

“Touching.”

“You’re a jackass.” Hunter bumps me. “Anytime. I mean that. You need me, you need to talk, and I’m here.”

“Sure your boyfriend would love that.”

While draining the rest of my drink, my eyes drift to Noah talking with Mark. Gorgeous doesn’t even touch it. Noah hands him a drink, turns, and bends at the waist to tie his shoe.

Fuck.

I rub my chest. That tight feeling’s back, only this time it’s in my pants. Those jeans fit his ass in a way that needs to be documented, for science. But it’s stupid even to fantasize, though hard—in more ways than one—not to picture it.

Soft, pretty lips. Opening just for me. My tongue painting a picture over all that soft skin. Fuck.

Hunter bumps me, hard. “What!”

“I was talking, asshole.” He laughs, taking a sip of his gross beer. It’s the one from earlier, and I feel terrible for being a dick about it, but I don’t fuck around with drinking and driving. Not even a sip.

“Sorry.”

“At least I know there’s a warm-blooded person in there somewhere. Even if it’s all in your dick.” Squeezing my legs closed even tighter, I can barely find the energy to be embarrassed. Noah straightens, turning a little and catching my eyes, and a naughty little smirk plays on his lips. He turns back to face Mark, and Hunter knocks into me. “He’s single.”

“Good for him.” But also, how? Ignoring my stupid, nosy friend, I put my can in a wastebasket like every other personat my house right now should! I can feel the sweat beading off Xavi’s can as it rests on my table—without a coaster! “Like I give a fuck.”

“Tell that to the chub you’re sporting.”

“Fuck off—”

---