I understand his reasoning. My brothers disclosed the same worry, wording it differently. They don’t know Devin like I do. He’s a different person around me.
We met at a function my sorority threw with his fraternity. I was so frustrated that day. The guys stood around while us girls did the work but not Devin. He grabbed the ribbons I was hanging, stepped onto the ladder, and helped me. He was goofy, sweet, and funny in his own way, and he spoiled me with attention. We shared a few classes and had regular study sessions that led to hook-ups.
The problem is, the more Devin hangs around his father and frat friends, the more he takes shape to them. He’s now judgmental and less understanding. He prefers spending time at his parents’ country club while I prefer spending time here.
I halt at the table I’m at and play with the back of the ripped stool, unsure of how to respond.
“Do you like your kinda, sorta boyfriend, Sierra?” he fires back.
“Of course I do.”
His eyes darken. “Why are you here with me instead of with him then?”
His question almost knocks me on my ass.
“He has an early morning tomorrow.”
He comes closer, his focus on me growing stronger. “Again, why are you here and not in bed with him?”
Even though I want to, even though I need to, I don’t break our eye contact. I wish the pub weren’t so underlit. I want a better view of him, want to observe everything that’s him. I don’t have an answer to his question. Not an honest one.
I run my sweaty hands down my jeans. “I wanted to hang out with a friend. With our history, we should consider ourselves friends.”
He laughs, not buying my answer. “Yes, we’re such excellent friends.”
Five
Sierra
“You’re quiet tonight,” Maliki says, restocking beers into the cooler.
Me helping him close is now a regular routine.
I relax on the bar, crossing my ankles and holding them out in front of me while watching him work.
“How many women have you slept with?” the abrupt question rushes out of my mouth before I can stop myself.
Tonight, I don’t have a care in the world. Devin and I argued earlier, and all my fucks left with the last drink Maliki poured me.
For years, I’ve wondered but never had the guts to ask. There’s no missing the women who look him up and down like he’s a snack they can’t wait to devour. They flirt with him, write their numbers on bar napkins, and touch him in ways I wish I could. My fantasies are appalling, provided I’m in a relationship, but that doesn’t stop me from resenting them.
Maliki pauses, sets the beer in his hand on the bar, and roams his eyes over me. “What?”
Oh, he heard me.
“How many women have you had sex with?”
He shrugs and returns to the cooler. “I don’t know.”
“You don’t know how many women you’ve slept with?” I slowly say, unhappy with his answer.
Maliki blowing off my question isn’t surprising. He never ventures into personal territory. We make small talk, like what we did during the day or movies, and he shares crazy customer stories with me.
“Nope,” he bites out, crouching down to get the last crate.
I scrunch up my face. “That’s weird.”
Exhaustion fills his eyes as he casts them on me. “How’s that weird? I don’t keep a fucking tally, Sierra.” Irritation burns along with his words.
“It’s a lot then, huh?”
He shuts the cooler with extra force. “I’m not clear what your definition of a lot is.”
“A lot …” I waver, struggling to strike the perfect words. “I don’t think I’ve slept with that many guys. It’s most likely a smaller number than yours. It’s—”
He shoots his hand up and interrupts me, his voice cold, “I don’t care how many men you’ve slept with.” He shakes his head, turns away, and opens the register. He jams cash into it and slams it shut. “Why are we having this talk?”
“I was hoping we could get to know each other better.” I’m also jealous, insecure, and confused with my life.
He leans against the wall and scowls at me. “Sierra, I know your favorite color, favorite food, favorite fucking movie. I don’t need your sex list or care to know your goddamn favorite sex position.”
I cross my arms. “What if I want to know yours?”
“Is there a reason you’re asking me this tonight?”
I tug at the top of my shirt, the room heating up. “I just … I don’t know … I don’t know if I’m good in bed.”
“Good in bed?”
I nod and drum my fingers against the bar. Stop talking. Stop talking. Do not pass go and spill your guts to him.
I stupidly pass go and tell him, “Devin.” I clear my throat. “We used to have sex all the time. I mean, all the time.”
I’m stopped by Maliki talking over me, “Okay, got that fucking point across.”
I gulp. “It seems like he’s always too busy to … you know.” My voice weakens. “I don’t want to be that needy, annoying girlfriend, but it’s weird.”
I’ve already had this chat with Ellie, who insisted Devin is busy with work. I need a man’s perspective, and God knows, I can’t ask my brothers.
He grinds his teeth. “I’ve said countless times, he’s a dumb shit. I don’t get what you see in him.”
“I bet you’re awesome at sex.” I slap my hand over my mouth. Oh my God. I did not say that.
Maliki grimacing confirms I definitely said that. “I’m not talking about sex with you.”
“Why?” I blurt out. “Maybe I need some tips.” I cover my mouth again. That wasn’t supposed to pass go either.
“The only tips I have are given to me after serving someone a drink.”
“I’m serious, Maliki. There has to be something wrong with me.”
He stares at me for a moment, looking almost disgusted. “Tell your boyfriend to pay me a visit, and I’ll give him some tips. Number one: stop being a fucking dumbass.”
My ponytail falls loose when I throw my head back, my blonde strands cascading down my shoulders. “Let’s forget how much you hate him for a minute, okay? Devin and I have dated off and on since college, but he hooked up with other women when we were on our breaks.” I lose Maliki’s gaze as tears prick at my eyes. “Maybe I’m not as satisfying as those other women were. We had an argument tonight, and he demanded to know how many men I’d slept with while we were separated. I told him the truth—zero. He refused to answer when I asked him the same. We fought more, and he confessed to sleeping with six women while we had been broken up.”
“Allegedly broken up,” he cuts in, his tone sharp. “What’s the point of this story, Sierra? That your boyfriend is fucking trash? News flash: we already knew that.”
“I’m over that. We weren’t together then. I’m worried that I’m boring now and that those women were better at sex than I am.”
He scoffs. “Doubt that, princess.”
“What about the women you’ve slept with? What do they do during sex? What do you do to them?”
Let’s be honest. My question is more than wanting reassurance that I don’t suck in the sack. I crave to know more about Maliki, to find out what he’s giving other women that I’ll never have.
“Find another man to have this conversation with because it won’t be me.”
I perk myself up, my voice turning fake cheerful. “Come on. We’re ole buddies, ole pals. Tell me.”
“No,” he snaps.
“Please,” I sing out, unsure of why I’m so desperate for his answer.
I gasp when he erases the distance between us and rests his palms on the bar on each side of my waist.
“What do you want me to tell you, Sierra?” He smells of lime and mint as he stares down at me in impatience. “Do you want to know how a woman writhes underneath me while I finger her until she comes?” He half-whispers, half-hisses, “Do you need me
to brag about how hard I fuck women or love to eat pussy? Is that what the fuck you’re asking for? Why?”
I swallow as tears burn my eyes. My breathing matches my racing heartbeat.
“I sure as fuck don’t want to hear about you fucking another man.” He pushes off the bar when I don’t explain myself and remains in front of me, a wild look in his eyes.
He told me to stop pushing, and I didn’t.
I’m not giving up now either.
“Why not? Why don’t you want to talk about this with me?”
“It’s not the relationship we have. You want to talk sex? Call one of your sorority sisters.”
My chest tightens, and I solemnly look at him. “But …” No, don’t pull away. Don’t.
“Quit pushing it, Sierra.”
I open my mouth to continue this argument … or whatever it is, but I shut it when my phone rings. We both look down at it resting on the counter next to me. He curses at the same time I tense. Devin’s name along with a selfie of us flash across my screen.
Maliki shakes his head while stepping away from me. “I’m drained, and I have an early delivery tomorrow. Go ask your boyfriend why he’s slept with so many women, break or no fucking break, and why you’re seeking out this conversation with another man about how you don’t feel stacked up to those women. Do you need a ride home, or do you want to call him?”
I shake my head. “I’ll call Ellie.”
He doesn’t wait for me to answer while stalking across the bar. I text Ellie, and thankfully, she can be here in five minutes. I’m fighting tears as he walks to the other side of the bar and fake focuses on paperwork.
He looks at me with sharp eyes when I tell him Ellie is here and holds his palm to the base of my back while silently walking me outside. He nods hello to Ellie, helps me into the car, and slams the door without a word. I watch him as she pulls away.
His arms are flexed, his face is red, and his knuckles are balled into fists. He shakes his head, releases his fists, and walks inside.
I don’t know if I’m crying over my fight with Devin or over my fight with Maliki.
Maliki. Most definitely Maliki.
Maliki has been avoiding me since our argument.
When I order drinks, he gives them to me and walks away, saying as little as possible. He has, however, made it clear that another bartender is helping him close from now on, hinting that my company isn’t needed … isn’t wanted. I was wrong for pushing the conversation, and I’m now paying for it with the cost of our friendship.
That’s changing tonight.
I need him.
For reasons unknown, he’s who I run to. I trust him, and trust isn’t easily given out by me. I don’t trust people I’ve known my entire life, and tonight, my family was betrayed.
Devin wouldn’t understand. His family is structured and clean cut. Scandals and secrets don’t supply their closets.
The bar closed twenty minutes ago, and the parking lot is empty. It’s a weeknight and raining, so the night was probably slow. I jerk my hoodie over my head, wipe away the tears I cried on the ride here, and jump out of my car. Hard downpour smacks into me as I rush to the door of Down Home.
It’s locked.
I knock.
No answer.
I pound harder and call out his name.
I stumble forward when the door shoots open, and Maliki catches me in his arms to stop me from falling. He swiftly locks the door behind us and shoves my head into his shoulder as I break down. He rubs my back, walking us further into the bar. Instead of dropping me onto a stool, he carries me to the back, up a flight of stairs, and into an apartment.
He kicks the door shut with his foot and carefully settles me on a black leather sofa. I peek up at him standing above me, knowing my eyes are puffy and black mascara is matted to my face, aware I’m the picture of a hot mess.
I wipe my cheeks with shaking hands.
I’m pissed. I’m hurt. I want to kill a man I love.
“My dad,” I whisper before raising my voice. “He’s …”
“I know. I was going to call you after I finished closing.” He sinks to his knees and stares up at me, pushing soaked strands of hair away from my face. His shirt is wet from my tears. “Have you talked to him?”
I shake my head. “I waited in his office for hours, but it was useless. He’s not dumb enough to come home until this scandal passes. I gave up and drove here.” Came to you.
He wipes away my mascara smudges. “Come on. Let’s get you changed into dry clothes, and then we can talk.”
I nod, my body relaxing. I run my eyes over the room that no doubt belongs to him when he leaves. It’s tidy and simple, only a few pieces of furniture. It’s clear he doesn’t spend much time here.
Seconds later, Maliki returns with clothes in his arms.
He gives them to me and points to an open door. “Bathroom is there.”
Yawning, I change into a tall, baggy bar tee and an extra-large pair of black sweatpants that sag, even after tying them tight around my waist. I don’t glance in the mirror or attempt to fix myself up. It’ll only make me feel uglier.
He’s on the couch when I come out. I settle next to him and spill every secret I’ve learned about my father tonight, stumbling over my own words every so often.
My father had an affair resulting in an illegitimate child. That illegitimate child is my brother’s girlfriend’s nephew.
I sob while explaining how heartbroken my mother is, and my lips quiver when I grit out how I can never look at my father the same. I never want to see him again after he damaged our family.
When I’m done, a weight is lifted from my shoulders. Maliki sat and listened, not interrupting or advising me on how to feel. He stands, walks to the kitchen, and pours me a glass of water.
I take the glass from him. “You’ve been dodging me.”
“I’ve been busy,” he says.
“Bullshit.” I’m dealing with lies from my dad. I won’t accept them from him, too. “Ever since that stupid sex conversation, you’ve hardly spoken to me.”
“That night proved a friendship between us wasn’t a wise idea. We’re too different, Sierra, and you have your own relationship issues to work out.”
Us being friends is necessary for my sanity, for my heart. No words from anyone I’ve spoken to tonight were as comforting as being with Maliki. It’s been hell, not seeing him.
“I swear, no more sex or relationship talk. I’ll even sweep the floors, and we’ll act like it never took place.”
He smirks. “You enjoy my company, don’t you? Your boyfriend is so fucking stale that you’d rather be around me.”
I roll my eyes. “Oh my God, someone needs to make himself a humble drink.”
“Sierra, listen to me. Do not go inside,” Ellie urges over the phone.
“What? Why?” I ask.
“The news about your engagement has spread all over town. Your mother told everyone at the benefit breakfast this morning. There’s no way it hasn’t hit Down Home—that it hasn’t hit Maliki—and from how well I know you, I’m sure you haven’t told him.”
I twist the diamond ring on my finger and bow my head. He should’ve known before any random person.
Devin proposed ten days ago, and since then, I’ve been terrified of seeing Maliki. I’ve also been miserable, not seeing him. He should’ve found out from me, face-to-face.
I couldn’t do it though.
I knew what he’d do.
He’d grill me about my saying yes. Give me shit. He’d see straight through me and rip out every uncertainty I possessed about marrying Devin, throwing them at me.
That’s what Maliki does. He makes me tackle my truths, which fucking terrifies me.
My voice cracks, my stomach rolling as a chill hits me. “I should’ve told him myself.”
“Trust me, he doesn’t want to see you. Babe, I hate to tell you this, but it’s in your best interest to put your closing nights with Maliki to r
est if you marry Devin.”
I force a laugh. “Oh my God! Maliki won’t care. We’re friends. He’s made that clear from day one.” Lies.
In the pit of my stomach, heart of my soul, I know Maliki will most definitely care.
Ellie releases a worried sigh. “Tell me then, what would you feel if Maliki got engaged?”
I swallow down the curses ready to fly out of my mouth. “I mean, I wouldn’t like it.” I’d fucking riot.
“Bullshit.” Her tone turns sharp. “I’m ordering you right now to turn around, leave that parking lot, and arrive early to your cake-testing appointment with your mother.”
My mother has started wedding planning. Hell, she might’ve started the day Devin asked my parents for permission to marry me. Devin proposed in front of our families, making it hard for me to say anything but yes.
I planned to wait a few years until our nuptials, but then I saw my mother’s face and heard the excitement in her voice while she talked about locations, flowers, and dresses. I didn’t have the heart to tell her to relax and give me time. I missed her smile too much.
It’s not that I don’t care about Devin. I don’t doubt my future with Devin or his feelings. Even with our relationship issues, I don’t see Devin breaking my heart.
Maliki? He’s never had a stable relationship.
Hell, he’s never shown interest in having one with me or anyone.
We’re friends. Period.
I need to accept that.
Moving on will help me.
“I’m going in,” I tell Ellie.
“No! Do not make me drive up there and drag you out as if I were your mother! I won’t allow you to make an ass of yourself.”
“Good-bye, bestie.”
She’s still threatening me when I hang up.
Eyes are pinned to me when I walk into the pub, and I focus on bringing one foot in front of the other, fearful of tripping. I’m light-headed before even reaching Maliki.
I should be happy.
Just Roommates Page 4