I’m too lost thinking of the stranger’s cute face when Selma grabs my hand and pulls me out of the open elevator doors. She pulls me halfway into the hallway before I gather myself and tug my hand free from her.
I must pull a little too hard because my hand does in fact get out of her grasp, but then it continues to fly backward, right into a warm body that must’ve been in the elevator behind me. One I hadn’t even noticed.
“Motherfucker!” a deep voice shouts behind me, and I’m too nervous to look, blood already rushing to my cheeks in embarrassment. I look over at Selma, to her small mouth hanging open, her thick eyebrows raised in shock.
Slowly, soooo very slowly—because hello, eternal embarrassment—I turn to look at the person I’m pretty confident I just nailed right in the kahunas.
I’m met with a strikingly handsome face. A handsome face that twists in pain.
Whoops.
“I’m so sorry!” My mind finally catches up with exactly what just happened. I fly forward, going to pat him where I hit him to make sure he’s okay. I’ve spent about ten seconds patting the area when I realize I’m literally patting his dick.
OH MY GOD. KILL ME NOW.
“I think you’ve done enough damage,” he says, his voice coming out a little hoarse, probably because he’s still recovering from my fist to his man parts. He gently swats my hand away.
“I was just trying to help,” I respond, stepping away from him and taking a good look at him.
Damn, he’s hot. Even if he is still hunched over recovering from the blow, his face red with pain.
From what I can tell, his blond hair is buzzed short. A baseball cap sits on top of his head, hiding the rest of his hair. He has a deep indent in the middle of his chin, one I can’t stop staring at. My eyes travel from the indent and pause on his full lips. They’re moving, saying something I don’t hear because I’m too busy ogling him.
Fingers snap in front of my face, catching my attention. “Can you hear?” the stranger asks, looking at me like something is wrong with me.
“Yes, I can freaking hear,” I snap, putting my hands on my hips. It appears he’s recovered, because he’s standing at his full height now. He may be shorter than Maverick, but not by a whole lot.
“How the hell would I have known? You weren’t responding.”
Well, darn. This guy has a bit of douchey tendencies—which I freaking love—but I promised I would stay away from guys like him in college.
Goodbye, high school Lily. Hello, college Lily. A damn shame, though, because he looks exactly like my type.
“I just didn’t have anything to say,” I retort, crossing my arms over my chest and sizing him up.
Selma makes a squeak a few feet away, causing us to look away from each other and over at her.
“Okay, goodbye then!” I say, heading toward Selma, hoping she’ll get her short legs moving because I need to get away from this dude until I do something stupid like take my pants off for him or give him my phone number.
This time, I’m the one pulling her down the hallway. I have no idea where Maverick’s dorm room is, I just have to get away from the hot guy I just hit in the balls.
“Wait, that’s it?” Hot Guy I Hit in the Balls yells from down the hallway.
I use the hand that isn’t wrapped tightly around Selma’s tiny wrist to give him a quick wave, my feet still racing down the hallway.
Unfortunately, someone somewhere hates me, because when I turn around, I find that Hot Guy I Hit in the Balls has stopped in front of a door at the same time my twin brother walks out of said door.
“Selma? Lily?” Maverick questions hesitantly, stepping around the guy to look at the two of us.
“Uh, hi,” Selma mutters, retracing her steps to go hug Maverick.
But me? My feet are planted, my body immobile and in a silent stare off with Hot Guy I Hit in the Balls—apparently also known as Maverick’s Roommate.
This is bad.
Holy flocking flamingos this is bad.
“Hi. I’m Aspen, Maverick’s roommate,” Hot Guy I Hit in the Balls—or Aspen, I guess—says, as he reaches out a toned arm to shake Selma’s hand.
Selma quietly introduces herself, her eyes darting between the two of us.
I’m going to be seeing a lot of this guy because of course he’s Mav’s roommate.
Oh, flock me.
Aspen
Past - Age Eighteen
“Aspen, this is my girlfriend, Selma, and my twin sister, Lily,” my new roommate, Maverick, says from the hallway.
I give him a quick nod, too busy in a silent stare down with the annoying creature who punched me in the fucking balls and barely showed remorse about it. Of course, said creature happens to be his twin sister. Awesome.
The Ball Puncher, or Lily I suppose, continues to cautiously stare at me from across the hallway. She’s still standing a few doors down from us, where she’d been pulling her friend forcefully down the hallway.
“What are you doing down there, Lily?” Maverick asks, taking a small step toward her.
Yeah, tell him what you’re doing down there, Lily. I smirk as I watch her already large eyes get bigger.
The dark ponytail on her head swings around as her eyes dart around the hallway. She has to sidestep a pair of guys carrying a futon, her hand steadying herself on the beige wall when she trips on a stray beer can on the floor.
Maverick reaches her in a few long strides, his hand automatically bracing her by the elbow.
Lily swats him away. “I’m fine, Mav. I just wanted to check out the decor down here.” She looks around as if she’s truly appreciating the splendor. Her tiny hand taps the boring wall—once—in an awkward attempt to prove her point. Unfortunately for her, the only decoration is the stray beer can lying deserted near her feet.
I raise my eyebrows at her, wondering exactly how she’ll try to bounce back from this little charade. By the way she kicks the beer can around, it appears she’s not one to give up easily.
“Very, mancave-ish,” she observes.
A laugh escapes me before I can stop it, and the sassy twin sister narrows her eyes on me, crossing her arms over her chest. Somebody should tell her that pose showcases her perky tits a little too well.
Evidently, she didn’t completely take out my dick with her tiny fist, because I feel it stir.
It’s too bad this adorable little firecracker is my new roommate’s little sister and therefore, off limits, because she looks just like the trouble I want to get in.
I’ve only spent a few hours with Maverick, but I can already tell he’s a good dude. There’s no need for me to complicate things by sticking my dick in his sister. No matter how much I love the sass and the hateful glances she keeps throwing my way.
That doesn’t mean I won’t have the best time fucking with her for eternity, though. I have to give it to her, she’s stubborn.
Maverick tilts his head inquisitively, then bends down and picks up the beer can. “You must be delirious from all the unpacking,” he mumbles to her, before walking back to our room.
I glance at Lily to find her glaring at the doorway he just stepped through, glad to know I’m not the only one who’s earned that dirty look from her in the last five minutes.
My hands clap together, making Maverick’s girlfriend, Selma, jump. “Are y’all ready to eat or what?” I ask, patting my stomach.
Maverick comes back out of our room, enthusiastically nodding his head in response. He pulls the door closed, locking it behind him, and I gesture for him to lead the way. Not bothering to wait for me or his sister, he takes Selma’s hand in his and they head toward the elevators.
Now, I’m left alone in the hallway with Lily.
I raise my eyebrows at her in a silent question, then cock my head in the direction of the elevator. She’s the farthest from it, so I’m waiting for her to go first.
I’m going to thoroughly enjoy pushing every single one of her buttons. I can already tell.
That’s why when she breezes past me—pretending she doesn’t even notice me standing there—I place my arm around her shoulder and pull her snuggly against my side. “Want to help me decorate my room later? Your eye for decor is impeccable.” I lift my arm that isn’t around her, pointing behind us where her precious beer can used to rest on the floor.
She pushes against me as she ducks out from underneath my arm. “Get the hell off me!” She scrubs at where my arm had touched her, as if I might be infectious. It only makes me want to mess with her more.
We’re still trailing behind Selma and Maverick when I stop directly in front of Lily. I block her exit from the narrow hallway, so her only options are to stop or run right into me. She chooses the former.
“I can’t wait for us to be best friends,” I declare, looking down to observe her reaction.
She rolls those baby blue eyes, her thick eyebrows drawing together on her forehead. “In your dreams,” she spits back.
I chuckle, reaching up to tug on the ponytail that sits atop her head. “Oh, Lily, you don’t want to know the things I’d do to you in my dreams. I can assure you, it’s much more than what best friends would do. But alas, you’re Maverick’s little sister, which means I can’t.” I let my eyes travel all the way down her body, taking in every inch of her. “Which is a damn shame, because I can’t say I don’t want to. Only in my dreams, I suppose.” My finger taps against her small nose, and I hold eye contact with her for a few moments longer before turning around, leaving her gawking behind me.
I don’t look back at her, even after I catch up with Maverick and his girlfriend standing in front of the elevator doors. When we make it into the elevator, Lily makes sure to stand directly in front of me, blocking her face from my view.
All I can do is smirk. I can already tell she’s annoyed by me, which for some reason, only makes me want to annoy her more.
When I first met Maverick, I didn’t imagine him having a gorgeous and witty twin sister.
Now I’m even more excited about this whole college thing.
Lily
Present
“Close, motherfucker,” I chant over and over again as I repeatedly sit on my suitcase. My butt bounces off the hard shell and comes down one last time while I try to pull the suitcase zipper tight.
I’m met with the sweet, sweet victory of the zipper pulling closed. As soon as I register the sound of the final zip, I do a happy dance. My hands are spinning over my head, my hips gyrating, my hair flying every which way, when I hear a knock at my front door.
The sound stops me right in my tracks. No one ever knocks on my door, unless it’s a food delivery guy or my neighbor, Edna. But it’s already past seven at night, so there’s no way she’s awake right now.
I blow the hair out of my face as I consider my options, my feet staying planted on the hardwood floor. Maybe they have the wrong apartment and they’ll just leave.
I’m assessing my outfit when a second knock sounds through my tiny studio. Technically, I’m not wearing anything that’d be deemed inappropriate to greet an unannounced guest, but it still isn’t my best look.
I’m wearing a pair of leggings, with my skin peeking through a small hole on my knee. My hair was in a messy bun a few hours ago, but after packing for hours and hours, most of it has fallen out. The dark strands have fallen in every direction, with only a small portion still wrapped in the hair tie.
The sweatshirt covering the top half of my body has seen better days. It has the mascot of the college I graduated from on the front, but the stitching has started to fray, and tiny threads poke out from random areas. Selma has told me multiple times to get rid of it, but I can’t. It’s comfortable, and big enough that no one can tell I’m not wearing a bra when I have it on.
A third knock echoes through my apartment, and the sheer force of it causes me to jump.
I let out a huff as I walk the small distance to the door. I’m supposed to be leaving for South Carolina tomorrow morning, and I still have two more bags to pack before I can even think about sleeping.
I couldn’t find anyone else to carpool with me on the long trip, so it’ll be me, myself, and I driving the many miles. I had to take my car into the shop earlier in the week to make sure it would make the sixteen-thousand-mile drive.
The pounding on the door becomes more erratic. “I’m coming!” I shout, reaching out to grab the doorknob. I swing the door open, not bothering to hide the annoyed look on my face.
There are plenty of people I expected to see on the other side of the door. Possibly Edna, even though it’s past her bedtime. Ralph, the ten-year-old who lives below me that I sometimes sneak Snickers bars to in return for him not throwing his ball up against the side of my apartment early in the morning. A Jehovah’s Witness trying to get me to repent for my sins. A little girl selling Girl Scout cookies.
Any of the above were possibilities. However, the last person I ever expected to see standing a foot away from me on my doorstep was Aspen Bellevue in the flesh.
“What the fuck?” I whisper, my eyes roaming all over his body to see if he’s real. I haven’t seen Aspen in so long. Not since we graduated college more than two years ago.
I’ve seen the occasional post from him on social media, but other than that, we haven’t spoken.
Aspen and I didn’t end on the best terms in college. We’d made the mistake of blurring the lines of our friendship. If you could even call it that.
I was weak. He made me weak. And in one of those weak moments, I had given him all of me—not only my virginity, but also my heart—on a silver platter. I fell in love with his cocky attitude and crooked smile, with his reckless tendencies and loyal heart.
I went from hating him to loving him in a simple snap of his fingers. I became a puddle at his feet, and he walked right over me. Didn’t spare me a second thought.
Just as soon as we began…we ended. The ending of our story came abruptly in the first chapter.
After falling for Aspen Bellevue, I swore I would never fall at another man’s feet. Especially not Aspen’s.
I was perfectly content with never seeing that beautiful face again.
But here I am, face-to-face with him. Aspen, in the flesh. An older, more distinguished flesh. He was hot in college, but now…he’s something more.
“Don’t look too happy to see me, Lily Bear,” Aspen finally speaks, pulling me from my thoughts. His arm reaches up to lean against the doorframe. This new stance causes him to draw even closer to me. My hand clings to the doorknob like it’s the only thing keeping me standing. And in a sense, it is. After all this time, he still makes me weak. God damn it.
It’s not like I’ve spent the last two years of my life pining over Aspen. It was actually the opposite. It was almost as easy to go back to hating him as it had been to fall in love with him. But seeing him standing in the doorway of my apartment? I feel at odds with myself and my warring emotions.
This new life I’ve created for myself in Dallas has nothing to do with him. It hasn’t been tainted by his dirty jokes or piercing green gaze. It was perfect. But now…
I won’t be able to look at my doorframe without thinking of the way he looks right now, perched up against it.
“Well, I can’t say I’m exactly thrilled to see you,” I finally manage to get out, still observing him. He seems so eerily familiar, while also noticeably different in so many ways.
In college, he always had this boyish charm about him. He was good-looking, but it wasn’t in a mature way. Now he looks more like a man than a kid, and it makes me feel uneasy.
“Happy to see you haven’t changed one bit.” It’s his turn to evaluate me, and suddenly I’m wishing I could have dressed up a bit for this surprise occasion. It isn’t like I want to stand here and impress Aspen, but I would like to be a little vindictive and maybe have my hair not look like a bird’s nest when I finally saw him again.
Show him what he could’ve had, kind of thing.
&nbs
p; Unluckily for me, I’m showing him exactly why he moved on from me in the blink of an eye after our short affair.
“What the hell are you doing here?” After realizing my hand has started to cramp from the tight grip it had on the doorknob, I slowly let go.
“Aren’t you going to invite me in?” He takes one hand off the doorframe and uses it to point behind me.
I briefly look over my shoulder at the small studio behind me before returning my gaze to him. “That’ll be a no from me, dawg,” I respond. He seems taller now than he used to be. Maybe it’s because he’s unexpectedly taking up my space. Or maybe he’s simply filled out more since college. He has on a simple black hoodie and a pair of jeans. Nothing fancy, but I can’t lie and say he doesn’t wear it well.
I’m happy to see a pair of sneakers on his feet and not his hideous boat shoes from college he’d refused to part with.
“C’mon, Lily. We need to talk.” He shoves past me after finishing his sentence, not bothering to wait for an invitation inside.
“You can’t just walk into my place uninvited!” I scramble to shut the door and chase after him. Good thing I’ve been anticipating being gone for a couple of weeks and had just deep cleaned my apartment this morning. I’d be mortified if my bras were still air-drying from the light fixture in the dining area like they were earlier. It’d be something Aspen would never let me live down. I know that much probably hasn’t changed.
“Sure I can. We’re old friends. Pals. Am I not allowed to come visit my buddy?” He stops in the middle of the space and swivels his head, taking it all in.
My eyes take in the same sight he must be seeing. The studio apartment is small—tiny, really—but it’s home. My bed is pushed into one corner of the space. I have a small kitchen across from it. A small loveseat is placed in the middle of it all, a clear acrylic coffee table placed directly in front of the couch.
“We aren’t friends,” I remind him. While he scrutinizes my living area, I take the moment to redo my bun, gathering my long dark hair at the top of my head and securing my hair tie around it.
The Road to Finding Us: A Standalone Second Chance Romance (Aftershock Series Book 2) Page 2