by Piper Rayne
“A math problem?” He continues reading. “Shit. Twenty-five K?” He stares at me without releasing my head. “You’re doing this?”
“No. I don’t know. My mom…” I blow out a breath and give up the fight.
He releases my head and sits at the table. “You don’t know? You totally should.” He flips the pages, reading through the contract. “You haven’t signed yet?”
I shake my head, falling into the chair next to him.
He throws down the papers and bends down to untie his boots. “Why?”
I shrug.
“Scared?”
“No.”
He cocks his eyebrow.
I sigh. “I’m not scared about whether I can do it. I’m scared about what happens if I succeed.”
“That makes sense.”
I look at him. How does he understand what I was saying? Surely, he’s never had the pressure and expectations my parents put on me. If I succeed, they’ll only expect more.
“The prize is pretty awesome though. You could do a lot with it.” He stands, hooking his fingers in his boots so they hang off his fingers. “Like open a bakery or something.” He raises his eyebrows and disappears into his room.
My head falls to the table and I blow out a long pent-up breath of frustration. This roommate situation is ridiculous. One guy treats me like he’s my big brother and protects me, pushing me like a best friend would to do something I’m scared of. The other guy makes crude comments that make me hot and horny. The latter would be great if he was the guy I was into.
Chapter Four
Dylan
I return from the gym, my legs burning from too many squats. I’ll still be there tomorrow though because the gym is my excuse to get out of the apartment before anyone else is awake. Rian is a creature of habit and her alarm goes off at the exact same time every day. I wake up fifteen minutes before, giving me ample time to go to the bathroom, brush my teeth, and grab my gym bag. When I return, she’s already left for work. Perfect plan really.
Until today—when I walk in after my workout to find Jax at the kitchen table in his boxers, his head in a bowl of cereal. Damn it. He usually sleeps later than this.
I’m about to bypass him to hit the shower then spend the day at Ink Envy when he slides a piece of paper toward me. My footsteps stop, but I don’t pick it up.
“It’s from Rian,” he says.
I swoop up the piece of paper, knowing he’s already read it.
Roommate dinner tonight. We’re all cooking something. Initial next to your item.
Rian’s initials are next to dessert and Jax’s are next to meat.
“I’m left with vegetables?” I ball up the note and toss it onto the table.
“Come on, Phillips, you know I’ve got all the meat Rian needs.” He laughs as I slam my door.
I’m not in the mood to deal with his bullshit. I strip off my shirt and grab my towel, walking back out to the main living area.
Jax is walking back to his room, so we come face to face. Both of us are shirtless, leaving the compass tattoo on the left side of his chest visible. His eyes zero in on the anchor on my left pec. At sixteen, we had them done together, for each other. I was supposed to anchor down his wild streak, and he was supposed to push me to explore and take more chances. Unfortunately, no one could tame Jax, and my obligation to Winnie kept me from seeing the world. I’m happy with where life took me so far, but I wonder if Jax feels the same.
His gaze meets mine. “Maybe you should work out twice a day.” He smirks and side-steps me.
“Some of us own our own business. Well, one of us anyway,” I say.
He laughs and shuts his door.
I shake my head. He’s not worth the aggravation. Never has been.
Lucky for me, after I shower and get dressed, Jax is nowhere in sight.
On the elevator ride down, I retrieve my phone from my pocket in order to text Rian.
Me: What’s up with this roommate dinner?
The three dots appear immediately, as they usually do. She’s never one to leave you hanging. It’s one of the best things about her.
Rian: Because we need to set some rules in order to get along. This whole everyone ignoring everyone thing isn’t going to work.
Me: I’ll let the other guys know.
Rian: No you won’t.
Rian: It’s just us.
Rian: The three of us.
I send a gif of a man rolling on the floor in a tantrum.
Rian: Funny. But still happening. See you tonight.
I pocket my phone and walk across the street, then unlock the door of Ink Envy. My favorite part of the day is coming here in the morning when it’s quiet. Sometimes I still can’t believe it’s mine. Walking by the stations of all the tattoo artists who want to work for me feels surreal. Heading to the back, I go to my office because I have paperwork to do that I’ve been putting off.
I boot up my computer then spot a note from Frankie on my desk.
I’ll be out for a while. Call you when I can.
I crumple the note and toss it into the trash can. Seems I don’t like any notes I receive today. I was hoping to ask Frankie for some advice about Rian.
Instead of worrying about all the bullshit that will surely go down tonight, I bury my head in the part of this business I hate—the actual business bullshit.
After an hour of recording expenses, I review last month’s numbers. There’s no way last month took a loss. I inch up closer as if I’m eighty and can’t see the glaring red number on my computer screen that’s blinking like a stoplight at two in the morning.
I knew things had been slow. Frankie was out more than usual, and let’s face it, when I lost Mad Max, he took one helluva following with him to New York City. Not that I blame him for wanting to make it big. Cliffton Heights isn’t where you make a name for yourself in the tattoo industry. Although I do have some clients who come from pretty far away for me and Frankie specifically, most of our customers are from neighboring towns.
Without Mad Max and Frankie working, I’m not making a cut of their jobs which has clearly hit my bottom line.
I press my palms to the edge of the desk and push myself back. The wheels of my chair slide until it hits the wall. What the fuck can I do? I need to get another artist in here.
Pulling out my phone, I scan Instagram for a newbie in the tat world who’s trying to make a name for him or herself. The first artist to pop up is Jax, so I click off my phone and toss it onto the desk.
One thing’s for sure—I’d better do something, otherwise I’m not making bills next month. The worst thing you can do in this industry is not have a functioning space for your artists to work in. Might as well lock your doors.
Hoobastank plays on the other side of the door, which means Jax is already home. Rian is more of a country music girl.
I put my hand on the doorknob and stand there for a second. Rian’s right—we can’t live like this until Jax decides Cliffton Heights isn’t for him. Since high school, he usually cut ties every four months from wherever he’s living at least. We don’t have to be best friends, but we can keep it civil.
All the kumbaya shit in my head dies when the door opens and I find Jax licking batter off of Rian’s finger.
Her head shoots my way, eyes wide like I caught her doing something wrong. Jax’s Cheshire Cat grin is obvious even with his lips wrapped around her finger. My jaw aches from clenching.
“Don’t let me interrupt.” I hold up my hands and walk through the living room toward my bedroom.
“You’re not interrupting. Jax was just joking around,” Rian says, but I’m already at my bedroom door.
“Let me know when you two are done, and I’ll do my vegetables.”
I kick the door shut and throw my bag on the bed. When I hook my phone to my radio, Papa Roach’s “Scars” plays, since that’s what I was listening to at Ink Envy. For a moment, I calm myself down, pissed I showed any cards to that fucker by slamming t
he door. I can already picture his cocky smirk waiting for me when I open that door again.
Not much has changed since high school with Jax and me. We listen to the same music, we’re almost like the same person. Hell, even down to being into the same girl.
I gotta get a grip though, because Rian isn’t Naomi. She’s not even close to being mine. She’s a grown woman who can protect herself. My reaction is just from the stress of the store. The underlying worry that I’m going to lose everything I’ve worked so hard to achieve.
Might as well get this roommate dinner over with. I leave the seclusion of my bedroom and thank God that it’s only Rian in the kitchen.
She turns around, her blonde hair pulled back into a messy ponytail. She’s wearing the apron I got her last Christmas. I still remember the blush that crawled across her skin when she read, “Warning: spooning will lead to forking.”
“You okay?” she asks.
I hate that question. I’ve probably been asked that same question five million times in my life. It was part of the social worker’s handbook. When they come to get you because you’re not wanted, they lay their hands on your shoulders as they bend over to get face to face. Always the same question—are you okay?
“I’m good. Just didn’t want to interrupt.” I pull out the vegetables I picked up at lunch and ran up here to put in the fridge.
“You’re not interrupting. You just happened to walk in when he was trying out my batter.”
“Where is he anyway?” I ask.
“He’s gone up to the roof to heat the grill up.”
I eye her like she can cut the bullshit. “You like him?” Grabbing the cutting board, I place it on the counter and open the drawer with the knives.
“I barely know him.”
I wash the lettuce, peeling back the bad layers. “He’s not the ever-after type. He’s not like Adrian or Ethan.”
She says nothing, and when I look up from the sink, the kindness that usually radiates off her isn’t there. “Who said I want that?”
I chop the lettuce as a distraction. Rian isn’t a one-night-only kinda girl. She might think she could do it, but she can’t.
“Are you going to answer my question?”
I scoop up the lettuce and put it into a bowl, ready to peel the carrots, but Rian’s already doing that for me. She thinks I’m incapable of doing shit, which is why she always does it for me. “Even if you want a quick fuck, do you really think your new roommate is the best choice?”
She peels the carrots more forcefully now, the scraps falling into the sink at record pace. “I’m not sure that’s any of your business.”
“I’m your friend. It’s my business.”
She hands me a carrot, and I slice it into coins.
“Friends offer advice. They don’t tell someone what to do.” She buries her head in the fridge, grabbing the salad dressings.
The knife drops from my hand and I lean against the counter to face her. She turns around and startles.
“You’ll be wasting your time with Jax.”
She shakes the salad dressing and her gaze slowly rises to meet mine. “How do you know? Maybe I’m the one who changes him. Or maybe he wants someone like me. I get that I’m not what you’d consider in your league, what with me not having any tattoos or piercings, but can you really speak for a guy you haven’t talked to in almost a decade?” She puts the dressings on the table, a little harder than necessary, and grabs the salad bowl from behind me.
My shoulders slump. “You’re right.”
“What?” she snips.
I’ve never seen Rian this mad.
“Anyone would be lucky to have you. Just be careful.” I grip her shoulder and take the asparagus out of the fridge. “I’m going to grill this up on the roof. I’ll be back.”
Leaving the apartment, I rest my back against the door for a moment before heading up to the roof. The last person I want to sit down and share a meal with is Jax. Rian’s the only person I’d put myself through torture for.
Chapter Five
Rian
“What’s for dinner?” Seth breezes into my apartment and sits at the table, his thumb and forefinger descending into the salad bowl.
I snatch the bowl away before he has a chance to grab anything. “Nope. Roommates only.”
He looks over one shoulder then the other shoulder at the empty apartment. “I’m a roommate.”
“No, you’re a neighbor.”
He mocks offense. “I’ve always thought of us all as roommates.”
“You don’t pay rent for this apartment.”
“Speaking of, you stole one of my roommates. Do you know how many extra boudoir sessions I’ve had to do in order to pay my share of the rent? I’m almost desperate enough to hold a sign out on the sidewalk and dress up in a suit with a rose between my teeth.”
I stare blankly at him.
He laughs. “Thankfully, Blanca is giving me some freelance work.”
“I hadn’t heard anything about that?” I sit down.
Poor Seth’s journey toward his dream career of photography has been hard. Not horribly difficult—the man gets to see half naked women every day—but he complains about it nonstop.
“She and Ethan are doing that blog thing or whatever. She’s asked me to take some landscape shots of New York City.”
I grab his hand. “That’s great.”
He shrugs. “It’s something and keeps me from having to take over my parents’ bagel shop for a little while longer.”
“I haven’t stopped in lately. How is Mama Andrews?” I stand and grab him a beer from the fridge, then I open a bottle of wine because as long as Jax and Dylan don’t throw one another off the roof, dinner should be ready soon.
“Don’t get me started.” He sips his beer. “She asked me if I’d take pictures of her for my dad.” His head falls to the table.
I purse my lips in an attempt not to laugh. His mom is very into having an active sex life and isn’t afraid to talk to her son about it. I struggle to pull the cork from the bottle of wine. “What did you say?”
“What do you think? Hell. No. Then she asked if any of my coworkers would do it.”
“Oh, that’s reasonable.”
Seth waves me over and I hand him the bottle. He pops the cork out with ease. “No, it’s not. Why would I want my coworker to see my mom half naked, puckering her lips for the camera?”
I laugh and he can’t help but laugh too.
“Yeah, my life is a fucking joke. My mom is worried about turning on my dad and my brother is AWOL again.”
“Oh, Seth.”
He shakes his head like he doesn’t want to talk about it, but the way he pushes the half-drank beer to the middle of the table says he’s worried about his brother.
I don’t know much about his brother, other than that he disappears now and then. I think it has something to do with drinking or drugs. Seth only mentions it in passing and every time he does, he brushes the topic away before we can really talk about it.
The door to the apartment opens and we both look over.
“The girl put her finger in my petroleum jelly container and smeared it on her lips,” Dylan says.
“Fuck, I’m guessing you gave it to her?” Jax asks.
“Yeah, but I charged her for it. I mean, use some common sense. Do you want an infection?”
I stare dumbfounded as the two of them walk in like they’re best friends. Even Seth’s eyes are bouncing between me and them.
“Shit, those steaks look good,” Seth says, his eyes wide like one of those cartoons where the ribeye is hanging off a fork in front of the dog.
“Thanks. Want to join us? I got plenty.” Jax places the plate in the middle of the table.
“Nope. Seth has to get home to Knox. This is a roommate-only dinner,” I say.
Dylan slides the asparagus onto the table and picks up a stalk, chomping down. “Sorry, dude, I’ll leave the scraps at your door.” He winks.
&n
bsp; Seth sighs, stands from the chair, leaving his beer behind. “No need. I’m gonna convince Knox to get his dick out of Leilani long enough to go to dinner. You realize I’m the only single one now besides all of you, right?” His shoulders slouch and he exaggerates walking to the door like a child.
Dylan and Jax glance at me. I hadn’t really thought about that. Blanca and Ethan, Sierra and Adrian, Knox and Leilani. Seth shoots a pair of pathetic eyes over his shoulder one last time when he reaches the door.
“Jesus,” Dylan says.
“Let the guy stay, Rian,” Jax says.
“Fine. But you’re not to talk.”
Seth straightens and smiles, walking back over and picking his beer up off the table. “I feel like I should’ve contributed something.” He digs his hand in his pocket and pulls out some business cards. “Here. Free bagel for everyone.”
The cards are for Andrews Bagels. He passes them out like a grandpa does butterscotch candies.
“Jeez, thanks. I’ll add this to the stack in my room.” Dylan pockets it.
I shove mine in the drawer with the others we’ve gotten in the past.
Jax examines it. “This is your place?”
Seth swallows his sip of beer. “My parents.”
“I was at the Bagel Place this morning. They have a hot girl working there. Is there a hot girl at Andrews Bagels? You might be able to convince me to switch.”
Dylan looks over his beer bottle at me and we share a look. The Ericksons own the Bagel Place. They’re pretty much the Andrews’ archenemies, which means Seth Andrews can never entertain the idea of Evan Erickson. Some of us think that upsets him to a degree, but we let him pretend the only thing he feels for her is hate.
Seth cuts his steak and the knife screeches across the plate. “Long dark curly hair?”