Page 8 of Take the Bait

My legs are tucked under my body and covered in a fluffy blanket. The apartment is cold but it's the best way to keep the bill manageable. Plus, I prefer being able to snuggle up over being too warm. I make good money at the hospital, but becoming a registered nurse isn't free and my student loans eat a lot of my paycheck. That is the main reason I got a roommate in the first place - to offset the cost and help me be able to put more money towards paying off my student debt. Once my loans are paid off, I might look into buying a house of my own but that also means I would need to decide where to lay down roots and stay for a while.

I make it through the next chapter in my book - about twenty pages - before it's time to head to work. The book is placed back on the side table, the blanket folded and laid over the back of the couch. Everything is back in its place, exactly where it belongs. Pulling the curtains closed lets out the same sound as when I close the dividers in the emergency room - metal scraping on metal with a tinging screech. On my way towards the door, I click on the light above the stove. I zip my coat around me, my hand instinctively reaching into the pocket to ensure I have my identification badge. It's right where I left it when I got off work this morning. I shove my feet into my shoes - laces that tie would only be cause for potential hazard if I need to run through the hospital halls and it comes undone. Velcro or slip ons, those are the only way.

The door pulls shut with a thud and I test the knob to make sure it doesn't turn, verifying the lock is firmly in place. My feet know the path, walking the short distance to the hospital a few blocks away like I always do. The air is turning crisp with the days getting further into winter. I tuck my chin into the collar of my coat, shielding it from the wind and prepare myself for whatever comes my way when I get to work.

The next three shifts at the hospital pass by with little excitement. Before I know it, it's already Wednesday again and I am relieved for my night off. I usually have Saturday night off as well, but it's easy to pick up extra shifts on the weekends, other nurses with actual social lives outside of work tend to make plans for those days. I would offer to change my regular shift to include Saturday to make it easier for them, but then I wouldn't get the added bonus of overtime when I pick up an extra shift. Having that boost in my paycheck each week is helping me make extra payments and I am determined to get them out of the way as soon as possible.

It's 7:13 in the morning when I walk into the apartment. I stop fast in the entryway, my hand frozen on the knob and my eyes locked on the figure in my kitchen. I know the door was locked, how did he get in here? Where all that greets me should be the light over the stove, is a half-naked male form cooking what I am guessing is eggs based on the aroma surrounding me. Crackling comes from the stove and there must be bacon to go with it. My mouth waters against my will, reminding me that I haven't eaten since around two when the cafeteria at work opened for us. I clear my throat, signaling to the stranger in my space that I am standing behind him. The muscles in his exposed back contract as he moves around the food he is preparing. I swallow spit, trying my best not to actually drool while I stare at this guy's back, reminding myself that he is a stranger in my home. He doesn't respond when I clear my throat again and now it feels like he is ignoring me on purpose.

I grab his shoulder and he jumps from my touch. Only then, when I am close enough to him, do I realize he has a small headphone nestled tightly in his ear.

"What the fuck! I almost touched the hot pan," he shouts, turning his body so that I can see all of him. I notice the eyes first, the familiarity in the deep blue pulling me under water.

"Holy shit," I say out loud, my hand darting up to cover my mouth as soon as the words escape it.

"Wait, why do you look so familiar?" he asks.

Oh, I don't know buddy, it could be because you're in my house where pictures of me hang on the walls. Or maybe it's because seven days ago you had me pinned against a bathroom wall and then broke my vagina with your ghost pepper fingers.

"No fucking way." I watch his pupils dilate - the ocean blue getting swallowed by the darkest depths of black - as he makes the same realization I just did. That night, at Galactic, it was him. It was me. And now he is here.

"Hold on, why are you in my apartment?"

"I live here ... wait, your apartment?" It's like a sick fucking joke in here, the parrot phrases and the way we keep staring at each other trying to understand what is going on. This can't be happening.

"You're Ashton?" I say at the same time he says "I'm Ashton" and the final pieces click into place.

In the better lighting of my apartment instead of the dim night club, I can see the resemblance to Colton now that I didn't before - the dark hair, blue eyes, taller than most guys. And if he is Ashton, that means he is my new roommate. He will be here, in my apartment - our apartment - every day, shirtless. And cooking apparently.

"Delaney said you wouldn't be home until after I went to work so I wasn't expecting you ... and well, this is definitely more unexpected." He runs his hand through his hair, the motion forcing my eyes to skate down his exposed abs. They are flawless, chiseled and tan. A perfect specimen. The lines outlining each muscle are dark with the shadow from the dim lighting but it accents them even more. Fuck, this is bad.

"You can't be serious ... you don't actually think that you can live here, do you?" I start pacing in the small kitchen, my shoes tapping against the tile as I walk back and forth. "I didn't know who you were that night so when Delaney asked if Colton's brother could move in, I had no clue it was you. Had I known, I would have shut it down from the beginning. I can't live with you ... not after we ..."

"To be fair, we didn't get very far. Plus, I already paid six months in advance. Delaney said she would get the check to you this week."

"Six months in advance? What, why?" This seems skeptical, who pays for an apartment six months in advance when you don't even know who you're going to be living with? Ashton apparently.

"Delaney said it would help you feel better about living with a stranger." He says with a quirky smile. I guess I know that he will keep up with the bills if he had enough saved to put that much down for this. "Plus, I work in construction and we are getting to the season where it's too cold to work so paychecks may get slower."

His occupation explains why his body is so defined and muscular. A working man has a certain appeal, like something animalistic and programmed deep into my subconscious. I want to know more about him, but also can't forget about the time we first met. It was hot and exhilarating but then came to a screaming halt when it got too hot to handle in all the worst ways and in all the wrong places. But up until that moment, I was drowning in him. The way he touched me, how he broke boundaries I never told him where there, but it didn't matter because he shattered them anyway.

"Do you want some breakfast?" His deep timbre voice breaks me out of my daydream.

"What?" I ask, knowing damn well I heard his question but my tired brain is overloaded and that is all I can manage to get out.

"Breakfast. You know, as in food? Specifically eggs and bacon, which is what I am making." Ashton gestures to the food cooking on the stove, a spatula still in his hand.

"Oh, right, I mean ... no thank you. I need to go to bed." And just like that, I leave him waiting there in the kitchen with his gorgeous abs and the aromas of breakfast - both of which can be blamed for making my mouth water.

I have been lying in my bed for over an hour, my normal routines to help me fall asleep in the middle of the morning not working. My light-blocking shades are pulled tight over my windows, covering the sun. The soft hum of oceanic waves crashing drifts around the room from my sound machine. But nothing is helping push me into sleep. I can still smell the bacon and knowing that Ashton may or may not be on the other side of my bedroom door has me playing a game of Schrödinger's Cat in my mind.If I don't open the door, Ashton is both there and not there.This is why my mind can't turn off.

Just ignore it, Mel. Pretend he doesn't exist. He is still just a stranger from the club and not the new roommate that you won't be able to escape for the next six months.

I turn onto my side, knowing damn well that I won't be able to sleep in this position, but I need to move. To try something different. I want to grab my phone and type the longest, all caps text to Delaney giving her a piece of my mind, but another rule I have to help me sleep is no phone in the bedroom. I mean, it's in here, but nowhere near where I am laying. I flip back onto my back, letting my eyes open even though I have been keeping them locked shut this whole time, desperate for sleep to find me.

I have seven more hours to kill before my alarm wakes me back up in order to keep my sleep schedule, but tonight is my night off so I won't be able to escape to the hospital. A new plan is needed, some other way to avoid him without making it obvious that I am avoiding him. I don't know how the hell I am going to manage that since we are trapped here together. The notepad on my nightstand calls to me, the comfort of making a list to iron out my thoughts begging me to pick up the pen. It's clear there's no sleep coming anytime soon, so I start journaling, letting all of my thoughts out onto the page.

Somehow the act of writing it all down lulls me to sleep because I wake up five hours later. I usually get more sleep than that, but I also know that if I try to fall back asleep it will only make it harder to get up when it's time. It's close to one in the afternoon and hopefully Ashton has reported to work so I won't run into him during my normal routine.

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