Page 35 of Dear Roomie
“Wait. Let me give you a ride back.” The words spill out of my mouth before I can think them through, but I can’t let her walk back barefoot and in pain. Crouching to her level, I command, “Get on my back. Your chariot awaits, Queen James.”
She looks at me oddly for a second before jumping up, wrapping her legs around my waist and her arms around my neck. Her head drops to rest on my shoulder, and I’m suddenly hyperaware of everywhere her body touches mine. The whole way back, I’m focused on the heat radiating off her body and the way she clings to my chest. I swear it’s the longest twenty-minute walk of my life. We get odd looks from strangers as we pass, but it’s worth it to hear her laughter that rings out the entirety of the trip.
“You go change. I’ll take Grover out, and then we can watch something if you want.” I put her down at the front door and fish the key out of my pocket.
“That sounds great.” She beams up at me, and I try to shake off the sinking feeling that Nathan may be right.
Chapter 14
Morgan
I’m so stupid.
I need to get this crush under control before I fall for her and break my own heart in the process. But that’s impossible when every thought is filled with James: her voice, her laugh, her fiery anger, and her infectious joy. Rationally, I know we are nothing more than roommates, and I am okay with that. However, rationality doesn’t stop my heart from racing when I see her or my dick from hardening with every one of her carefree touches. Each moment I get to spend with her, I feel like I’m learning more, peeling back layers, and getting to know the real her, and I really like the person I’m meeting.
The sky is washed red with the glowing lights from the stadium, and the streets are flooded with fans celebrating the win. It’s not the peaceful atmosphere I imagined when I grabbed the leash and fled. This walk was supposed to clear my head, but all it’s done is muddy it further. I glance at the time and mutter a silent curse as I realize I’ve already spent way too long trying to figure it out.
Steeling myself, I walk back into the apartment and find James already waiting on the couch. She’s changed into her pajamas, wiped off her makeup, and thrown her hair up into a messy bun on the top of her head. There are two tumblers and a bottle of nice-looking whiskey sitting on the coffee table in front of her.
“Want a drink? This feels like a more acceptable hour.” She watches me with her eyes wide and her cheeks flushed.
“Sure. Thanks.” I slip off my shoes and join her.
“So I was thinking we could play a game.” Her voice quavers, and she drops her nervous stare to her hands, which fidget in her lap. “I don’t know you that well and was thinking we could play truths. It’s like truth or dare, but we can only ask each other questions. If you don’t want to answer, then you have to drink.”
It sounds like a terrible idea.
I shouldn’t agree to it—I know where games like this lead—but James looks up at me from under her lashes and catches her lower lip between her teeth, and I find myself agreeing against my better judgment.
“Sure, you go first.” I need her to set the tone of how personal this is going to get.
“So what’s with the nerd shows? Why do you likeMerlinso much?”
A breath of relief passes my lips. This is an easy one.
“It’s not justMerlin. I love anything having to do with Arthurian legends and Camelot and the Knights of the Round Table. They are stories of people going off and fighting evil and defending the innocent. That’s all I’ve ever wanted—to be someone who fights for justice and is moral and good.”
“Is that why you chose law school?”
“I think it’s my turn to ask a question,” I tease, but the question sends a ripple of dread through my chest. She pouts a little but doesn’t argue. “What’s your major,” I ask her. It’s a little crazy to me that I’ve lived with her this long and don’t know that, but we didn’t get off to the best start.
“Finance, but I feel like I tried them all. I wasn’t passionate about any of them, but I had to settle on something. That’s why I need this fifth year to finish it up. So is that why you want to be a lawyer?” She jumps straight into her question without taking a breath.
I pick up my drink and down half of it in one go, ignoring the burn as it travels down my throat. Her face drops; she probably thinks I’m drinking to avoid the question. That isn’t it. I’m going to answer her, I just need to build upthe courage to do it. Several silent seconds pass while I try to figure out exactly how I want to tell her this story.
With a heavy sigh, I break the silence. “Maybe a little bit, but not really.” My voice comes out too even, too hollow. She sits up straighter at the shift in tone. “My sister was seven years older than me. I’m pretty sure my parents meant for her to be the only child, and I was an accidental kid. I have no proof of that besides the age gap, as my parents never made me feel like I was a mistake. Her name was Laura, and I absolutely idolized her. Never once did she make me feel like I was the annoying little brother. She always let me tag along with her and her friends. She was the best big sister a kid could ask for.”
I pause and finish off the rest of the whiskey in my glass. She fills it again without speaking. Her gaze drills into me, burning a hole in the side of my face, but I can’t bring myself to look at her. I can’t bear to see the pity in her eyes that everyone has when they learn about Laura.
“Was?” Her small voice cracks on the lone word.
I nod as my eyes start to burn. “Yeah, was.” I bring the warm liquid to my lips once again.
“I was twelve when she died. Laura was nineteen and about to finish her first semester of college at Wayne State. My parents were so proud of her.Iwas so proud of her. She had gotten an academic scholarship and was the first person in our family to go to college. She thrived there. Really, truly thrived. That night, she had stayed at the library to study. It was late and it was dark, but her dorm was only a few blocks away, so she decided to walk. On the way back, she was struck and killed by a car while crossing the street. She did nothing wrong. She was using the crosswalk, and she had the walk signal. The driver ran a red light and didn’t see her until it was too late.”
“Morgan, I am so, so sorry.”
I risk a glance at my roommate and find tears flowing down her cheeks. My eyes dart back to my hands; the thin thread of control I have on my emotions will snap if I keep watching her cry.
