Page 58 of Roommate Wars
Sophia squawked through my earbuds. “You’re cooking? I thought you were joking when you said you cooked for Jack. Do you even know how?”
“I can use an oven, Soph. And I’m a master at the microwave.” I thought back. “I also make killer fresh popcorn.”
“Since when?”
The popcorn was a recent development, and Jack’s dad might have had to shout out pointers to me from the TV room, but it came out amazing. “Since this week. Anyway, why are you bitching? You’re no chef. It’s a lucky thing you nabbed a billionaire who likes to make you food. Besides, is it any surprise that neither of us can cook? That was the one thing Mom did well.”
Mom was good at preparing food. She even washed and put away dishes. It was the insane collection of random shit that had been the brunt of her hoarding problem. Until she had a stroke several months ago and finally got therapy for a fifteen-year-old trauma. Our mom was doing much better now—not perfect, but better. Sophia and I occasionally saw her struggling with the desire to hold on to something, but her house was no longer a hazard zone. And she sounded happy when I called her these days, which made me happy.
“Exactly,” Sophia said, “so why are you going to this length if you and Jack are only fake dating?” She sounded suspicious.
If I told her the truth, and that Jack and I were dating for real, though only for the next week or so, I’d have even bigger issues. I liked Jack, and waking in his arms had been incredible, if accidental. I wanted to do something nice for him. But I kept the real reason for the food prep to something Sophia would not freak out over. Well, not as much, anyway. “I might have fallen asleep in Jack’s bed last night.”
“What?” Rustling and scratching sounds came through the earbuds, as though she’d dropped her phone, then, “Elise Marie!”
“Look, Soph, the cat’s out of the bag. Jack and I have already slept together. Figuratively and literally. Is it such a big deal if we shared a bed?” This was all bravado on my part, because waking up in Jack’s arms had been startling. And also the most natural thing in the world. But I’d worry about that salient fact later. “I sleepwalk; what else is new? Your old roommate is used to it by now.”
“Only because the last time you also landed on his penis and boned! I can’t take you anywhere!”
“Boned? Really, Soph? Show some class.”
We’dsoboned. I’d boned that man good. And had been thinking of doing it again this morning when I took in his bared, muscular chest. It had required an enormous amount of mental fortitude to drag my tired ass out of Jack’s arms.
“In any case,” I said, “I’m cooking to make up for the sleepwalking and late-night intrusion. It’s all good. Jackson loves my cooking.”
“Jack would eat crocodile meat if you put it in front of him.”
Ew.“Isn’t that supposed to taste like fish?”
“I don’t know. But you understand my point. He’s not picky.”
“Which works to my advantage, because I might have just burned this astronomically expensive steak. Gotta go!”
“Don’t you dare hang—”
I hung up. I wasn’t joking. The meat was looking crispy. I flipped it over and turned off the heat, then heard him entering the apartment.
He walked into the kitchen, his T-shirt drenched with sweat, clad in running shorts and shoes.
“What’s that smell?” he said, setting down a bag of groceries on the counter a few feet away.
I punched my fists to my hips. “Is that how you greet your chef who’s been slaving for hours to prepare you a home-cooked meal?”
He delivered a disbelieving look. “Has there been cooking involved? Your form of meal prep is heating up frozen items in the microwave.” He walked over, and I noticed his damp T-shirt sticking to the chest muscles I’d investigated thoroughly this morning. Then he leaned over my shoulder and pulled the top off the pan. “Hey, that doesn’t look like it came from the frozen food section. And it smells good.”
Jack must have been doing rigorous exercise prior to coming home to build up all that sweat, and yet all I could smell were hints of body soap, laundry detergent, and a hot-guy scent that was putting thoughts in my head. Naked, sweaty thoughts.
I bumped him with my hip. “Back up buddy—Hot Stuff is in the kitchen and making magic happen.”
He chuckled and returned to the counter and the groceries he’d brought and started pulling items from a reusable shopping bag with Max’s company logo on it. Jack was nothing if not frugal. “My friend Lizzie is coming over this week. I picked up beer, a few appetizers, and corn chips. Noticed you were out.”
My hands froze as I prepared a flavored ketchup, and I looked over. “You bought me corn chips? Why?”
No one bought me my favorite food, not even Sophia. She was always too busy complaining they weren’t a part of the food group pyramid.
He shrugged. “You like them.”
Shit.First the domestic shutting down of the house in the dark so I could go to bed first, and now this?
