Page 19 of Don't Let Me Fall (Don't Let Me 1)

Biting the inside of his cheek to contain his amusement, he challenges, “Still thirsty?”

Aaaand, I need to get out of here.

But running back to Logan’s room doesn’t exactly feel like an option. Not when Colt’s looking at me like this. Like he’s daring me to come closer. Like he can see how much I want to scurry away. Like I’ve intrigued him somehow, and I hate to admit it, but I’m not ready to back down. Not yet.

I roll my eyes, frustrated with myself as much as the guy in front of me, marching toward the same cabinet as the night before. The one where the orange juice cup was located. Unfortunately, it also happens to be behind Colt’s muscular body, and the bastard doesn’t bother to move aside as I approach him.

With his head cocked, he waits. Curious about what I’ll do next.

My pulse thrums a little faster as I bump his shoulder with my own, refusing to back down. “Do you mind?”

He moves over a few inches, leaving barely enough room for me to open the cabinet door. I rise onto my tiptoes, blindly searching the second shelf for a mug while ignoring the twisted déjà vu overwhelming my senses.

Same mouthwatering scent. Same cocky smirk. Same gray sweatpants leaving little to the imagination. Or a lot, if the bulge is anything to go by.

With a huff, I motion to the second shelf. “Wanna help a girl out?”

The bastard doesn’t bother to hide his dark chuckle from whatever innuendo I might’ve set him up with as he lifts the mug in his hand and offers it to me without a word.

“I think spit swapping with the orange juice earlier is enough sharing for one day,” I snap.

“Then it looks like you’ll have to wait for your caffeine intake.” He tilts his head toward the running dishwasher beside the sink. “Your boyfriend forgot to do the dishes yesterday.”

I glare back at him, unable to decide if I’m annoyed because I have no coffee or because he’s clearly dissing on Logan even though, yeah, he’s kind of got a point. Logan’s always been a messy guy who prefers his mom or girlfriend––aka me––to clean up after him instead of doing the work himself. Don’t get me wrong. Logan’s an amazing guy, but we all have our flaws, and a lack of cleanliness is one of Logan’s. The clean laundry spread across the end of his bed being a not-so-blissful reminder from yesterday.

Apparently, some things never change.

Lovely.

I don’t realize how close we’re standing until he looks down at me. The same arrogant amusement claims his handsome features over the rim of his stupid white mug as he takes another sip.

Clearly, I’m entertaining him.

And clearly, it’s pissing me off.

My nostrils flare as a throat clears from the entrance to the kitchen, and my neck snaps in its direction.

Arms folded, Logan’s gaze slides down my body, his expression hardening. “Why are you wearing my roommate’s T-shirt?”

8

ASHLYN

My face is on fire as I look down at the white T-shirt with LAU’s black and red logo on the front of it. You know, the one covering my naked body. I turn to the roommate in question.

The bastard hides his smirk behind his mug, waving his opposite hand around the room as if to say, “Floor’s all yours.”

With a glare, I spin back toward Logan. “I didn’t––”

“You know what?” Logan cuts me off. “I don’t wanna get angry at you. We’ll talk later.” He turns on his heel, heading toward the front door.

I march after him, anxious to explain myself while frustration boils in my veins. Why didn’t Colt tell me? Why is Logan refusing to let me explain myself? Why didn’t I piece together I’ve never seen Logan wearing this shirt? I’d assumed it was his because I found it in his room. I’m not crazy for jumping to such a conclusion, am I? I didn’t think so but based on the way Logan’s ignoring me, I apparently have some explaining to do.

“Logan, wait!”

He shakes his head and grabs a jacket hanging on the coat rack next to the front door.

“Seriously, stop.” I reach for his arm, but he tugs it away from me. “Where are you going?”

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