Page 87 of The Paris Roommates: Dean
“Yeah, you mentioned that,” he said harshly. “You couldn’t even stand touching me. Me! I’m your—” He ran a hand through his hair. “Jesus, never mind.”
She gulped.Here we go.“No, finish what you were saying.”
His back was her answer as he whirled around and faced the window. “Then you picked a fight with me when I was trying to give you the perfect room and told me it was somewhere Paisley would live. That was below the belt. Jesus, Madison, what in the hell was that about?”
“I’m sorry for that, okay?” Panic tickled her throat, and she had to bite the inside of her cheek to control the wild emotions clashing inside her. “It was totally out of line, even if it’s a little true. But you were pushing too hard. Dammit, I don’t want the bigger room, and I couldn’t give a flying fig where the sun comes up. You like the big rooms. You should take it. I told you. I don’t know why you’re trying to be nice to me, but it’s too much, Kyle.”
He spun around, his gorgeous face cut with tense, angry lines. “Too much? For my best friend? For the person I can tell everything to? What the hell, Madison? I was just trying to make you happy—like I was with Sawyer. Why can’t you just let me do something for you for once?”
Her insides scattered, and she had that same urge she’d had back in the kitchen to run from the room and out into the streets until she couldn’t breathe anymore, like she used to when she was a kid in Miami and so upset she could no longer hold her feelings in. “It’s not your job to make me happy. I don’t want you to make me happy.” Jesus, they were still skirting the real reason they were arguing.
His brows shot to his forehead. “So you’d prefer it if I browbeat you and make you cook for meandthe restaurant? You’re a masochist.”
Maybe she was, because his kindness—his earnest desire to make her happy—scared the hell out of her even more than this crazy attraction sparking between them. If they weren’t going to throw it out there—maybe he was as scared as she was to say the obvious out loud—then she had to go with her usual backup. Humor. “I didn’t know you knew big words like masochist.”
Trying to joke her way out of the argument backfired. He marched over until he was inches away from her, his face turning red with anger. “I can spell it too, and this whole thing is stupid.” His voice was a hiss that slashed at her heart. “Take whatever room you fucking want. Cook in the kitchen or don’t. But don’t make me a meal like some servant, or I’ll throw it in the trash. You got me?”
She struggled not to tremble.Her. She’d stared down gang members on the street corner from the time she’d gotten boobs. “Don’t bully me, Kyle.”
“I’m bullying you? That’s where you’re going with this, Madison?” He scrubbed his jaw, something awful flashing in his eyes.
She wanted to take back what she’d said, just to erase that look. She opened her mouth but no words came out.
He shook his head. “And don’t tell me to stop trying to make my friends happy.”
She should let it go. But she just couldn’t. “I told you. I don’t know why you want to make me happy.”
“You seem to be deaf, or maybe I’m not getting through.” He let out a harsh breath, his jaw clenching. “You’re my friend. My best friend. But if you can’t stand that, then maybe we’ll downgrade it to just friends again. Or roommates. Or business partners. Clearly, we need to stay out of each other’s way. You pick.”
Her heart began to beat triple time and her chest grew so tight she couldn’t breathe. His eyes glittered, and suddenly she knew why she felt so awful. This…everything with him right now…was causing her gut-wrenching pain.
Because he really was her best friend, and normally that level of closeness with him didn’t scare her. But after that kiss, she’d been thinking things about him, things they couldn’t do. Things she knew he was thinking about too. Things that could ruin everything.
Was this whole making her happy thing his way of compensating for the change between them?
Didn’t he know it would only make things worse? Because she knew theycouldbe best friends who had white-hot passion between them. Believing they could actually make something of that combination terrified her, and without Nanine’s no-fraternization rule at the new house, mortal fear accompanied her fantasies about him. Kyle might not want to admit it, but they were from two different worlds. His ex-fiancée had thought of her as the help, and likely his parents would as well.
What they had as friends mattered too much. That realization made her find the courage to face the heart of their fight.
“We can’t go there, Kyle,” she whispered, hating the weakness in her voice.
He thrust out an arm. “Where?”
She bit her lip and then looked him straight in the eye. Was he being clueless on purpose? “You know.”
His entire face flinched, and then he stood taller as if someone had pulled on his strings. “Dammit, just spell out what you mean.”
She wanted to shove him for making her say it first. Out loud. Because once it was out, there’d be no taking the words back. “The kiss changed things between us. We tried to joke it off, but it didn’t work.”
His mouth pursed like he was biting back a response, and she had to fight not to notice the sheer perfection of his lips and forget how they’d felt as they moved over hers.
“That’s why you’re trying to make me extra happy.” She extended her hand but snatched it back before she could touch him. “We opened a box. Maybe this feeling between us was there before—ten years ago. Doesn’t matter. But I need your help stuffing it back in the box. Because we cannot do this, Kyle. There’s too much at stake.”
She watched his throat work, and she fought the tremble in her lips as he stared at her.
“You’re too important to me, dammit,” she said since he was still silent as a freaking tomb. “Youaremy best friend. I trust you like I’ve never trusted another guy. But that kiss made us want each other, and I’ve been fighting like hell to ignore it when we’re by ourselves and being all chummy. Tell me it’s not just me, because I don’t think it is. Otherwise, you wouldn’t be this upset.”
The long line of his throat rippled, and she had to fight not to grab his arm when he turned and walked to the window again stiff as a board.
