Page 1 of Tapped By My Roommate
1
RHETT
Idropped onto the navy-blue futon in my living room with a groan, my legs still jelly after practice with my soccer club. The ceiling fan whirred slowly overhead, creating a hint of a breeze that was bliss on my overheated skin. “I think I’m getting old.”
“You’re twenty-one.”
“Like I said, old.”
Ethan snorted. “I’m older than you.”
He didn’t look up from the laptop he sat hunched over at the dining room table, but I could see him clearly. Well, the back of his blond head anyway. In an apartment this small, the dining room was basically the other half of the living room.
“Then you should go play soccer,” I teased, knowing that my roommate would never in his life choose to engage in sports. He was the quintessential nerdy type. He had the slim, willowy body to go with the geeky T-shirts: some black with Godzilla prints in various incarnations through the decades; some with dorky puns likeI’m in it for the wildlife;and some really weird shit like Jesus riding on the back of a dinosaur.
It wasn’t my style, but you had to respect a guy that went all in on the things he liked. Ethan was like that. Passionate about school, about his career plans, about his future.
Me? I just wanted to get through the day. Wanted to get through working too many hours, running interference between my teenage siblings, and passing my boring as fuck classes. On a good day, I could fit in a quick hookup to meet my body’s needs, but anything more was out of the question.
“I’d rather write two more papers,” Ethan muttered.
I pushed myself up, wobbling my way to the kitchen. “You could write mine.”
Ethan finally looked up, a small frown wrinkling his forehead. “Seriously?”
I rolled my eyes. “No, man, of course not. I don’t cheat.”
Though my algorithm analysis classwaskicking my ass. I hated slogging through homework. Now,thatI was passionate about.
The only thing I’d ever really come close to loving was soccer, but I hadn’t been good enough to play at the collegiate level. It was the something I did for myself to stay in shape and maintain the body that scored me hookups so easily. But it was hard to keep up, even at a recreational level, when it was theonlyexercise I managed—other than spending eight to ten hours on my feet bartending five nights a week, that was. The other guys were kicking my ass.
Ethan grimaced. “Wish you were my research partner. The asshole keeps dropping the ball, telling me to pick up the slack.”
“Not cool.” I took down a glass and filled it with water. “You should tell him where to stick it.”
Ethan gave a ragged laugh. “Sure, yeah. That’d go over well. I’m stuck with him for a whole semester.”
I gulped a large drink and set down my glass. “So be more diplomatic,” I said. “But as long as you let people take advantage, they will.”
Hurt flickered across his face before he looked away.
“Got it. Don’t be such a doormat. I’m working on it.”
Shit, I didn’t mean to hurt his feelings. “Sorry, I wasn’t—”
“No, it’s okay,” he said brusquely. “You’re not wrong.” He closed his laptop. “I think I’ll finish this in my bedroom.”
“Don’t do that,” I said.
“I’m not getting much work done out here.”
I shook my head. I forgot how sensitive Ethan could be. We’d only been roommates for a few weeks. In that time, I’d already seen that he was smart and funny and kind of sweet—but more vulnerable than most of the other guys I knew.
“I need to hit the shower,” I told him. “I’ll go. You stay and finish your paper.”
He glanced up, seeming to look at me directly for the first time. I became aware of my flushed, sweaty appearance. My T-shirt molded to my body, sticking to me in places, and my mesh shorts stopped at mid-thigh. Ethan’s gaze skimmed me, and for a second—a brief, totally mad second—my skin prickled at the thought he might like what he saw.
But that was ridiculous. Ethan was straight. He’d moved in with me after an explosive breakup with his ex-girlfriend, and not one thing he’d said or done had indicated he was anything but heterosexual. Which was good. Last thing I needed was my roommate crushing on me. I wasn’t a relationship guy. I didn’t have time for one, and I wasn’t really the type to believe in romance. It hadn’t done my mother much good, what with Dad taking off when I was seven.
