by Alex Rosa
“Nice to meet you, Blake,” Tucker cuts in. “I think I want to be your new best friend.”
“TUCKER!” is the only thing I can manage. I watch as Blake laughs.
I feel my face flush bright red. What is the appropriate reaction here?
Cutting off my outburst, Tucker can’t even help himself as he extends his manicured hand to Blake. “I’ve heard so much about you.”
It seems even Tucker isn’t immune to Blake’s looks.
Blake shoots me a deadly smirk as he looks back to Tucker. “Uh-oh, am I in trouble?” His voice is inviting and has a wonderfully deep timbre.
I find my eyes dragging over his tight black, fitted V-neck shirt and think idly, I know what he looks like underneath that. I’m mildly distracted by the memory of his hips.
“Big trouble with this one.” Tucker raises his eyebrows, signaling toward me.
Blake, without missing a beat, says, “I’m not too good with first impressions. Maybe I can make it up to you, roomie.”
He annoys me. Do I look like some bimbo who will drop everything for him? Because I’m not. Just because he’s good-looking doesn’t mean he controls me with those distracting looks of his. He needs to be put in his place, at least for the sake of all girl-dom. A boy should not be allowed to have that sort of power over women and their hormones.
I can see Tucker opening his mouth to respond for me, and I just can’t have that. I give Blake a stern expression as I purse my lips and shake my head. “That really won’t be necessary. It was a caramel mocha, wasn’t it?” I exaggerate my movements as I make my way to the coffee machine.
He squints in disbelief. “With soy milk, please.”
I nod. “With soy. Of course you would want soy. Let me get that for you.”
Is my voice dripping with disdain? Because I want it to.
Blake muffles his laughter and turns to Tucker. “Is she always like this?”
Tucker leans on the counter, joining Blake in observing me as I make his drink. “Nope, you seem to be the first person I’ve met to rile her up so much.”
I whip my head around, shocked. “Tucker Mitchell, would you stop it? You are supposed to be on my side.” I walk up to the counter, stomping my feet, and hand Blake his drink. “Here’s your caramel mocha . . . with soy.” I fake a smile and bat my eyelashes.
His catlike eyes, which are flicked with a wicked gold gleam, watch me as he sips the drink. “You’re kind of cute when you’re angry.”
Did he really just say that?
“She is, isn’t she?” Tucker butts in.
I go wide-eyed at both of them, darting my gaze back and forth. I want to scream.
When did I lose control of my life?
Seeming proud of himself, Blake nods his good-bye to Tucker, who is still staring dreamily, and then looks at me. “I’ll be seeing you around, roomie.” I swear he’s laughing at me behind that beguiling hot half-smile.
He strolls his hot body out of my coffee shop without looking back.
Once I hear the door shut, I scream, “Tucker! What the hell?”
Tucker looks at me, and with no shame or remorse, says, “I’d hit that.”
I close my eyes and slump my shoulders, exasperated.
There’s no hope for me.
Chapter 3
As I drive down my new street at close to one in the morning, I’m on my blue tooth with Tucker. It’s our ritual so we don’t fall asleep on the drive home.
“Tucker, please stop.” I say, exasperated with the topic. When Tucker sees fresh meat, he can’t be stopped.
“I’m just saying, rules-shmules. He seems interested.”
“But what if I’m not?”
“Oh, you definitely are.”
“I don’t want anything to do with him. You can have him.”
“I would gladly take that one off your hands.”
“I don’t know what I’m even talking about right now. I haven’t been their roommate one full day and I already have you telling me to break all the rules for one cute guy. There are plenty of fish in the sea, and I would really rather have my pick of some other fish.”
“See, that’s what’s wrong with you. Stop comparing your men to fish. They are oh-so much more, hon.”
My problem with men goes far beyond comparing them to fish.
Even though his tone makes me laugh, I sigh. “Good night, Tucker. I’ll call you tomorrow.”
“Good night, Skye.”
With that, I toss my phone onto the passenger seat and pull up to the condo, but my eyebrows furrow at what’s in the driveway. Three cars. There should only be two considering I’m just now getting home.
Aggravated, I realize I need to park a block away now. Who the hell could be taking my spot?
***
Stumbling up the steps to the front door, tired and annoyed from working so late at night, I put my key into the lock.
I open the door as if I do it every day, and hang my keys on the wall next to it. I am so ready to crawl into bed. Midnight mochas would exhaust anyone.
I hear giggles, and my head shoots up at what’s going on in the living room.
The lights are off but the TV is on, and there on the couch is Blake in a mildly compromising position with a brunette. Does that guy ever let up?
I guess I know whose car is in my spot now.
Normally my reaction would have been shock and embarrassment for myself and the other individuals, but I find myself annoyed, so annoyed, and in no way shocked. This guy is unbelievable.
I make eye contact with Blake, who is straightening himself out and shushing the girl. His eyes even glitter in the dark as they meet mine. His stare is hauntingly sexy in the shadows.
The moment is getting too awkward for my liking, and the pretty brunette won’t stop her annoying giggle. I decide to scurry by them, and I have to bite my tongue hard to avoid saying something snarky.
I glance at Blake as I walk by, and he actually looks a little embarrassed. Or am I making that up? I feel his penetrating stare on me all the way up the stairs. It’s unnerving.
I pull the curtain to my little loft, making it into my personal room. The curtain is staying that way, as far as I’m concerned. I peel off my clothes in the darkness and crawl into my new bed. I sigh, wondering how much my voice will carry into the living room, and then wonder how much the sounds below will carry into my room. Ew.
I listen closely and I am disgusted with myself. What am I listening for? Moans and groans? No. I am hoping they take it somewhere else.
Sure enough, after a bit of muffled whispers, I hear the duo make their way down the hall and hear Blake’s door shut.
I wonder if that was the same girl from earlier. Probably not.
Tucker, no doubt, will find this story even more amusing than the last. It has me realizing that Blake and his escapades already make me angry, and he and I have only spoken a handful of words to each other.
I close my eyes and eventually drift into an unsettling sleep. All I can think of are those haunting green eyes and that annoying smile.
***
My eyes flicker open due to the bright sun shining right above me through the skylight. I am going to have to do something about that. Then I wonder if the sunlight isn’t what woke me, but instead the wafting smell of freshly brewed coffee.
Working in a coffee shop, I thought the smell would make me hurl, but the truth is, Tucker is a terrible influence. I swear that if it were allowed, I would have a coffee IV installed in my arm.
I climb out of bed, hoping that it’s my brother downstairs. I slip on a tank top and a pair of shorts, eager for some sibling chitchat. I need to mention last night to my brother, though he probably won’t find it surprising.
I look briefly in the mirror, running my fingers through my midnight black curls as a haphazard attempt to tame the lion’s mane before walking downstairs to the kitchen.
The moment my bare feet make contact with the wood floor, my breath catches in
my throat. Blake swivels his body around to greet me. “Morning, roomie.” His voice is like a shot of caffeine that ignites my body. How does he do that?
My eyebrows furrow, and I think turning around and running back up to my room might be considered rude. “Good morning.”
I take a few steps toward the kitchen and worry that I’m intruding. His eyes make their journey up my body, and I feel extremely underdressed. My skin heats as I peer down at my thin tank and short shorts. I’m an idiot.
“Hungry? I made you food.” He puts his pantie-dropping grin on. Is he always like this? What is he playing at? Or is he just being nice?
Maybe I should give him the benefit of the doubt. Plus, what would he want with someone like me when he looks the way he does? Seriously.
I tiptoe to the counter, and he moves across the kitchen to dispense scrambled eggs onto the empty plate sitting in front of me. I’m watching the eggs, but realize that Blake is watching me. He has this smile, as if he is experiencing some private joke, and it makes my insides clench. How is it possible for a person to have this effect on anyone? It’s just downright unfair. Do other girls get like this in his presence?
Maybe I’m just a dime a dozen. It’s an unsettling thought.
I pretend he doesn’t affect me, and I run my hand through my hair while taking in a breath.
He chuckles, and I want to crawl out of my skin I feel so embarrassed. I’m so at the whim of my hormones, it’s ridiculous. No one should have to witness this. Maybe Tucker is right. Maybe I should just get laid and get it out of my system, and then maybe I wouldn’t be having issues controlling my libido. But Blake can’t be the one to solve these issues. I must remember rule numero uno!
He places the pan back on the stove, and as if the whole thing was timed, the toaster erupts. He snags the two wheat bread pieces and spins around gracefully to put them on my plate. His muscles ripple underneath his shirt when he moves.
I wish it were the food making my mouth water, but that would be a lie.
Before he says anything after his entertaining dance around the kitchen, I catch his eyes scanning my body again as I lean over the counter. Does this guy have any manners? I reflexively stand, straightening my posture.
“Ta-da!” He holds his hands up like a practiced magician.
I smile. “Ta-da?”
He shrugs, and it’s another adorable maneuver. “Yeah, ta-da. I made you breakfast. I wanted to show you that I’m not such a bad guy.” He turns around, maybe to avoid a judgmental stare as he opens the fridge. “And I’m sorry about last night. I probably should have been a little more courteous.”
Finally deciding to commit to the meal he’s made me, I grab a fork and lose my mouth filter along the way. “Yeah, you could probably be a bit better at that.”
As the fridge door slams shut, the sound catches my attention, and I look up to see Blake eyeing me. I feel tense under his scrutiny, and I decide on a subject change. “Is Josh gone?”
Shocking me and not asking permission, he grabs for my fork and eats some eggs.
“Hey, I thought those were mine?” I watch his sculpted lips slide over my fork. Deep breaths.
He hands me back the fork, grinning boyishly.
“Josh usually leaves around eight or nine in the morning.”
I stick my fork back in my eggs, bringing it to my mouth, remembering where this fork has just traveled. I didn’t realize I could be jealous of silverware. “Oh.”
“When do you have school?”
This encounter has sexual tension written all over it, but how is he still managing to treat me as if he has known me forever? My stomach is still in knots with his close proximity. I better get used to this. He is my roommate.
“I go to school Mondays and Wednesdays from eleven to five, and have soccer practice once a week too, along with fitting in working when I can.”
His eyes have this way of captivating me, and it takes everything in my being to tear my eyes away from his. “Your brother talks a lot about you.”
I finish off the last bit of eggs and take a bite out of my toast. “I hope it’s all good.”
“Mostly.” That wry smile is back.
“Well, I have some stories about him, too.” I decide I can’t eat anymore. I’m not hungry for food.
He sips his coffee, and I want to probe into his life now. “When do you work?” I worry that my tone comes off sarcastic.
He chuckles. “Eh, the life of an artist really doesn’t go according to a schedule. I just finished a cologne ad campaign, and next week I have some auditions.”
An artist? Who is he kidding?
My eyebrows shoot up. “Busy boy.”
He chuckles again. “I wish I were busier.”
I purse my lips, trying not to smile.
I hear a voice down the hall and it startles me. “Blaaakkkee, where’s my breakfast?”
My eyes go wide as I yank my stare back to his. That girl is still here? I lift up my hand to point at him accusingly. “You! You tricked me! You have no shame, sir.”
He laughs and shrugs. “Whoops.”
Of course those eggs weren’t for me! Why would he make me food? Why would he ever consider me?
I shove the now empty plate of food away. “You really had me going there.”
For the first time since I’ve known the guy, he actually looks offended. “What do you mean?”
I let out a cathartic laugh. “You’re good!” I continue to point my finger at him.
“You lost me.” His jaw seems strained with confusion, but it is such a beautiful jaw.
“I know your type.” Another laugh escapes my lips as I turn around and stroll toward my room. He’s just too much right now. Cosmo could write a whole article on this guy.
“My type?” he asks with raised brows, and for some ridiculous reason, the wrinkling V that forms between his eyebrows is heart-wrenchingly sweet looking.
My only response is, “Please leave me alone and go back to attending to your flavor of the month.”
I’m about to head up the stairs when I hear, “Skyler!”
My name sounds crisp out of his mouth, even with the hint of anger, and I don’t want to turn around to see those emerald depths, those broad shoulders, or those low-hanging shorts.
“Yeah, roomie?” I can’t help my tone. I have never felt so played, even if it was a minor encounter. Who am I kidding? I was tossed around like nobody’s business in my last relationship, and I will not let some hot guy toss me around now.
I don’t hear a response. The silence forces me to stop midstep and turn around. Just as I predicted, his eyes are too much and my skin tingles with his commanding stare, but the boyish smirk remains.
“What is it, Blake?”
He shrugs as if the words escape him. “I don’t know. I guess I should be sorry. I want us to be friends.” That’s still not an apology.
He really has no shame. I shake my head, dumfounded. “Fair enough, and let’s be clear: that’s what we are. Friends.”
His eyes glint, and I worry I just gave him a challenge. Oh God.
“I get it.” He stands straighter as he smiles. “Well, I better attend to my current flavor, then.”
There’s that attitude again.
I swear I see him wink at me before he starts his stroll down the hall.
For reasons I can’t yet define, I’m brimming with anger as I watch his delectable derriere walk away. My imagination gets carried away as I briefly fantasize about him dragging me upstairs to my room and pressing his hard body against mine. I press my thighs together in frustration, hating that he elicits this sort of response.
He is an asshole, that’s for sure. Why do silly girls like me always seem to want the dumb, dangerous ones? The whole rebel-without-a-cause thing.
Get a hold of yourself ends up being my mantra for the next twenty minutes.
Chapter 4
I bust through the coffee shop doors and the bells ring out loudly, clanging tog
ether abruptly with the thrust of the door. I wave at Brian, the current barista at the register. He looks at the clock before waving back.
I grumble quietly as I choose my favorite couch in the back corner of the café with a large wooden table, and toss my backpack on top. I pull my anatomy textbook out and take a seat. I need a distraction, a productive one.
As I flip through my physiology chapter, I welcome the complicated statements and scattered overwhelming graphs. Anything to distract my brain right now.
I grab a pen and my notebook, thumbing through for a blank white sheet, huffing as I do so. I feel so out of sorts. So much so that I didn’t bother taking a shower, knowing it shared a wall with Blake’s bedroom.
“Caffeine to soothe the soul?”
Whipping my head up, I’m ready to shout, but instead lock gazes with Tucker’s warm brown eyes.
“Is there alcohol in that latte?” I snap.
He grins. “Uh, no, but that could be arranged. It’s your favorite, though: vanilla latte with caramel. By the way, you are aware it’s not even noon yet, and you’re already considering alcohol?”
I snag the drink from his outstretched hand as he takes a seat on an armchair across from me.
I eye him. “Since when do you reject alcohol before noon?”
He laughs. “True. What’s troubling you, my darling? You aren’t starting work for another two hours. I know we all get excited for anatomy, but come on.”
“In a way, I wish I could get my mind off anatomy for a little bit, now that I think about it, and I don’t mean textbook anatomy.”
His eyes sparkle with interest. “Oh, please tell me you’re talking about your delicious roommate, and that you finally got over yourself and moved in on that hot piece of—”
“Would you please get a hold of yourself, Tucker? Sheesh.” I rub at my temples.
He takes a sip of his coffee and asks, “What did lover boy do this time?”
“I wish you wouldn’t take so much interest in the jerk.”
“Man-oh-man, you are all in knots because of this guy. I’ve never seen you like this.”
I get snarky. “You’ve known me for five minutes, Tucker.”
His eyebrows tighten. “Whoa, I thought we were past that. Just because you’ve only been working here a month doesn’t mean I don’t know you better than you know yourself.”