Page 29 of Dear Roomie
I’m ready to go when my phone lights up with a message from Chelsea, telling me where to meet her. An errant thought causes my hand to freeze on my bedroom door.
What if Morgan is still out there, waiting?
I don’t know what would be worse: him still waiting for me after all this time or finding the living room empty. Both make my stomach turn but in different ways. I shake it off and step into the hall.
The living room is dark, and he is long gone. The empty space takes the wind out of my sails. Part of me was hoping he was waiting for me, that he would stop me from going out and beg me to pick up where we left off. It was a stupid thought. It’s been almost two hours since I left him out here. There is no universe where he waits that long for me to come back, but I do wonder if he waited at all, and if so, for how long.
Chapter 12
James
Drinking with the girls was exactly what I needed to forget Tanner’s assholery. We move from bar to bar, drinking and dancing, and with each one, my worries about my boyfriend become less and less pressing. I turned my phone off as soon as I met up with Chelsea; I can play the silent treatment too. Fuck him for thinking I owe him anything, and fuck him for being mad I enforced a boundary.
The problem with my drink-to-forget plan is that something has to fill that void in my mind, and that something happens to be my roommate. I’ve managed to keep most of my thoughts of him locked away behind a carefully constructed wall, but the alcohol has obliterated it like a wrecking ball, and they’ve all escaped to wreak havoc. They flit between innocent and obscene—the way his dimple pops when he smiles, and every hard edge of his naked body.
My cheeks warm as I shake the image from my head. I can’t be thinking like this. Maybe another drink will drive the thoughts of Morgan away too.
“Guys, guys, look. It’s Nathan,” Chelsea squeals and points across the street.
I look, but it’s the man behind him who catches my attention. As if he was manifested by my fucked-up desires. Seeing Morgan kicks up a flurry of excitement in my core. He never comes out with Nathan.
Chelsea has dragged me out a few times so she could meet up with her latest fling, but Morgan is never there. The goth pixie and scary bartender have been around, but no roommate. His absence has been both relieving anddisappointing, but I pushed both of those feelings away before I could dwell on them.
Morgan’s eyes land on me and trail up my body before landing on my face. My skin heats under his scorching gaze. I know what I’m wearing; I look good, and from the smile on his face, I’d say he agrees. He flashes his hand in a nervous wave, and I mirror the motion.
“Let’s go say hi.” A car horn blares as Chelsea grabs my wrist and pulls me into the busy street. She flips off the car but doesn’t adjust her course. The girl is on a mission. Evelyn follows a few steps behind us, mumbling an unheard apology to the driver.
Chelsea flings herself into Nathan’s arms, and he catches her with ease. “Saying hi” must be code for making out in the street based on the way those two are going at it.
Good for her, I guess.
Morgan stares down at me with that stupid smile on his face, and I freeze. A ball of nervous tension coils in my gut. What do I even say? For all I know, he’s pissed at me for abandoning him earlier.
“Hi.” He echoes his greeting from earlier, and the tension evaporates.
“Hi yourself,” I shoot back with a grin.
“So this is what was so important that you skipped out on me? I’m hurt.” He covers his heart with an overdramatic flourish of his hand.
“I think you are the one who ditched me. When I came back out of my room, you were gone.”
“Oh, I am so sorry, Queen James. Next time, I swear I will wait on the couch for eternity until you are ready to join me again.”
“Next time?” I ask him hopefully, dropping the playful banter.
“Yeah, next time. I mean, if you’d like, that is.” He runs his hand through his hair, and the smile slips.
“I would. Like to, I mean. Fuck. Yes, more nerd shows, please,” I ramble.
“Good.” That smile of his finds its place once more.
“We are headed to Cutter’s. You ladies want to join?” Nathan asks, popping the bubble surrounding me and Morgan. For a second, I forgot the others were even here.
My immediate reaction is to decline. The way my body responds to my roommate is dangerous, and I don’t trust myself this many drinks deep. But Chelsea shoots me a pleading glance, and I hesitate. Fuck Nathan for actually seeming like a good guy and making her happy. I won’t let my own issues jeopardize that.
I give her a subtle nod, and she pulls me into a hug with a high-pitched squeal. We make our way down the street, and I can feel my roommate’s stare on me the entire journey. His attention makes my spine tingle and heat pool in my core. I sway my hips more than what’s natural with each step—might as well give him a show.
To no one’s surprise, the goth pixie is waiting when we walk through the doors.
