Roommates (Soulmates #1)

by Hazel Kelly

  "Sorry. I don't mean to make light of it. I know today was important to you."

  She looked at me, her eyes glassy. "Promise."

  "Sure, whatever. I promise."

  "Promise you won't make a big deal out of it."

  "Christ. I promise I won't make a big deal out of the big fucking deal, okay?"

  She leaned back on her side of the wooden booth and crossed her arms.

  I took a sip of my beer.

  "After my audition, the casting director said he wanted to see me in his office."

  "Uh-huh."

  "He's the guy that gets to decide who gets what part."

  "Got it."

  "Promise you won't tell your dad either."

  "No problem. I haven't told him anything since I was thirteen."

  She stuck her lower lip out and considered the obvious truth I'd just told her.

  "Go on."

  "So at first things were going really well. He told me I had a lot of potential, and that he thought I could bring a lot of energy to the part."

  "That's good."

  "But then things took a weird turn, and he started saying how it's all who you know and that all the big stars make their own luck."

  I nodded.

  "And then he touched me." Her voice fell several decibels. "And he said the only thing standing in between me and getting the part was…"

  "What?"

  She glanced down, nodding her head towards her lap.

  I craned my neck forward.

  "You know." She swallowed and nodded at her lap again.

  I shook my head. "No, I don't know."

  "He wanted me to-" She gestured towards her lap.

  I felt the back of my neck burst into flames.

  She kept her eyes on mine.

  I could tell by the sadness in her eyes that she was telling the truth. "He asked you to do that?"

  She pursed her lips. "Not in so many words, but-"

  I put my elbows on the table and slid my fingers in my hair as the sound of my heartbeat pounded in my ears. I'd only ever been this angry once, and it led to me getting expelled from school.

  I took a deep breath, clenched my jaw, and exhaled through my nose.

  Could I have heard her wrong?

  Could some middle aged skid mark have seriously assaulted her this afternoon? Sexually? At a fucking job interview?

  I kept my head down and pushed against the edge of the table, squeezing my hands around it until my knuckles turned white.

  Christophe. I had to talk to Christophe. He would know what to do. He was always fucking saying that if shitheads only got legal advice before they took things into their own hands, they would make better choices.

  And I needed some serious legal counseling, because for the first time in almost ten years, I really wanted to hurt somebody.

  And hurt wasn't really the word. Maim was more like it.

  I'd pound my fist into that guys face until his jaw had to be wired shut so tight he'd never so much as compliment another woman in his life.

  "Ethan?"

  I looked up at her, but it only made my anger worse.

  Her face was so open, so youthful, so trusting. Only a real piece of shit would look at that face and have an opportunistic, dirty ass thought like that.

  And anyone who would have that kind of thought deserved to suffer the kind of brain damage that would keep it from ever happening again.

  "Are you okay?" she asked.

  How was she not more upset? How could she sit there like nothing even happened when I felt like my blood pressure was going to make me burst out of my own skin?

  And then I had a horrible sinking feeling. "Wait."

  She raised her eyebrows. "What?"

  "When you say you blew it-"

  Chapter 21: Jenny

  My mouth fell open.

  He closed his.

  I leaned across the table. "Are you fucking asking me what I think you're asking me?"

  He lifted his palms in my direction. "I don't know. Do I need to?"

  "Do you even know me at all?!"

  He raised his eyebrows. "I know you as well as you know me."

  I swallowed.

  "Shit, Jen. You've gone to college since the last time I spent any time with you."

  I shook my head.

  "How am I supposed to know what your fucking values are?"

  "Don't look at me like that."

  "Like what?"

  "Like you still don't know whether I'd do something like that. For a fucking part."

  "Is that a no?"

  I furrowed my brow. "Of course it is."

  "No what?"

  "No, I didn't literally blow it."

  He exhaled and leaned back, pulling the collar of his hoodie away from the back of his neck.

  "Jackass."

  "Sorry. I had to ask."

  I rolled my eyes. "Did you? Cause if I had, we'd be celebrating the fact that I'd scored a leading role in an Off Broadway production."

  He shook his head. "No. If you'd obliged that asshole, we wouldn't have shit to celebrate."

  "Really?"

  He threw his hands in the air. "Are you second guessing yourself now?"

  I tore a corner off my paper coaster. "No, I just-"

  "Just what?"

  "What if I missed my chance?"

  He blinked at me.

  "I mean, this guy could ruin my career before it even gets started."

  "Sounds to me like he tried to do just that this afternoon."

  "You know what I mean."

  "No. I don't."

  I sighed.

  He slid the empty plate to the edge of the table and reached across it, putting his hand over mine. "Jen."

  I stared at the place where he'd made my hand disappear. "What?"

  "Look at me."

  I raised my eyes to meet his.

  "I'm proud of you,” he said. “You did the right thing."

  "I hope you'll be proud of me when I spend the next thirty years waiting tables."

  "Come on," he said, squeezing my hand. "You don't mean that."

  "I know, but it just felt like I was so close, ya know?"

  "Hey. You think Jennifer Lawrence got where she is sucking dick?"

  I flinched.

  "You think Julia Roberts would ever even dream of dropping to her knees to impress a producer?"

  "No."

  "You think Meryl Streep would've done anything besides kick that prick in the balls?"

  I smiled. "I suppose not."

  "And you know who else is going to make it on talent alone?"

  I raised my eyebrows. "Who?"

  "Jennifer Layne," he said. "You're going to be one of those classy actresses that women want to be and men want to be with."

  I turned an ear towards him. "Are you saying you want to be with Meryl?"

  "Can you keep a secret?"

  My heart pinched at the warm creases around his eyes. "Of course."

  "I already have."

  “Is that so?”

  "And she might be the finest actress on the planet, but I assure you, she didn't have to fake her orgasm with me."

  I pushed his hand away. "Jesus. Ethan!"

  He leaned back and smiled.

  "It's not okay to talk about Meryl like that."

  "If you think that's bad, you should hear the kind of stuff she says about me."

  "You wish."

  He laughed, the low rumble echoing through my bones.

  "Thanks," I said. "For saying that stuff before."

  "It's true. You must know you did the right thing."

  I nodded. "I do, yeah, but I still wish it hadn't happened."

  "If you regret what didn't go down, just think how much you'd regret if something did."

  "I know," I said, a chill running up my spine. "Plus, what if I'd gone through with it, and I still didn't get the part?"

  His eyes grew wide.

  "That was a joke," I said. "I don't even wa
nt to think about that."

  "Me neither." He wrapped his hand around his beer and drained the rest of it. "I'm sorry I made light of you being upset before-"

  I shook my head. "You didn't. You were great. You rescued me as soon as I told you I needed rescuing."

  "I shouldn't have let you get in a situation where you needed to be rescued."

  "It's not your job to protect me."

  "About that-" He leaned forward and put his elbows on the table.

  I raised my eyebrows. "What?"

  "You know I have to kill this guy, right?"

  "He's not worth the jail time."

  "At the very least, I have to beat the shit out of him. It's only right."

  "I don't want anything to do with you breaking your streak of peacefulness."

  "I'm not doing it for you. I'm doing it for me."

  I shook my head. "To quote one of my favorite movies, 'If might is right, then love has-'"

  "No place in the world."

  I furrowed my brow. “You know The Mission?”

  He shrugged. “Of course. It’s a classic."

  I raised my eyebrows. "Then you'll recall that it's a movie about forgiveness."

  "It's a movie about a lot of things, and that's just one of them."

  I lifted my glass and licked a patch of salt off the rim before downing the last gulp.

  "What's his name?"

  "I'm not telling you."

  "You think I can't find out? I know the name of the play and everything."

  "You promised not to make a big deal about it."

  "And I'm going to keep that promise," he said. "By not taking it to a homicidal level."

  I cocked my head at him.

  He raised his eyebrows.

  "It means a lot to me that you’re mad."

  "Livid,” he corrected. "Like about to give the Hulk a run for his money livid."

  "Whatever kind of livid you are," I said. "Take it out on your next run."

  He scrunched his face.

  "Cause I'm flattered that you want to protect me, but-"

  "Actually, I think you do a pretty good job of protecting yourself."

  I smiled.

  "I just feel obligated to seek revenge on your behalf."

  I lifted a palm in the air between us and spoke like a wizard. "I absolve you of your quest for revenge."

  "Fine," he said. "Make me do it the hard way."

  I leaned my neck forward. "Please don't find this guy. What if someone found out it was cause of me? Then I'd be even more fucked than I am now."

  "There's only one person that's getting fucked here, and he asked for it."

  A flair covered waitress appeared at my side with another giant margarita.

  I shook my head. "Oh- I didn't order another one."

  She smiled and spoke with an affected Texas accent. "You don't have to, Hun. It's Thirsty Thursday. They're bottomless."

  Ethan stuck his lower lip out and looked between my drink and the waitress. "In that case, would you mind bringing another one out?"

  "Sure thing sugar lips."

  And as he smiled back at her, I couldn't help but think she didn't know the half of it.

  Chapter 22: Ethan

  Her cheeks were pink by the time she finished her second margarita.

  But that was two hours ago and even I'd lost track of how much we'd had.

  "What time are you supposed to go to work?" she asked, laying a flat hand on the table.

  I lifted my ass and pulled my phone from my pocket. "Fuck."

  She raised her eyebrows. "Uh-oh."

  "Hold on a second." I slipped out of the booth and headed towards the beer garden for some fresh air.

  Ben answered on the second ring.

  "Ethan- hey. I heard you got your sister okay."

  "Stepsister," I said, leaning against an empty picnic table. "And yeah. I owe you one."

  "Ella and Christophe's story don't really match up."

  "What?"

  "You told Christophe that she was bald and gay?"

  I laughed. "If he'd expressed interest in Carrie, wouldn't you have done the same?"

  "Have you been drinking?"

  I scrunched my face. "I can't make it in tonight."

  "What the fuck, man? I do you a favor and then you don't show up for work?"

  "It's a long story. She was really upset and-"

  "Yeah, Ella told me," he said. "What the hell happened?"

  "She got assaulted."

  "Seriously?"

  "Yeah. On her fourth fucking day in the big city."

  "That's rough. She okay?"

  I nodded. "She is now that I've ploughed her full of margaritas."

  "Good."

  "And as pathetic as it is, I figured if I had a few, it might soften my urge to go paralyze the fucker."

  "Good call," he said. "You're useless to me in prison."

  "Can you manage tonight without me?"

  "Yeah. Gretchen will be delighted to fill your shoes."

  "Just as long as she doesn't get too comfortable in them."

  "Don't worry. You're indispensable."

  I smiled.

  "Which is the only reason I'm putting up this shit."

  "Oh come on. I've never done this before."

  "I know, and I get it. If someone so much as leered at a hair on Carrie's head I'd-"

  "What? Have them followed?"

  "Shut the fuck up."

  "I love you, Ben."

  He laughed. "You're a twat. Enjoy the rest of the night. I'm glad you're sister's okay."

  "Stepsister," I said, but he'd already hung up.

  I slid the phone back in my pocket, trying not to dwell on how crazy it was that I'd been having so much fun with Jen that I’d completely forgotten about work.

  I pushed the glass door open and headed back to our table, my eyes resting on her as soon as I walked in.

  Unfortunately, the warm excitement in my stomach wasn't the kind you’re supposed to have on a family day out. It was more, and I could see through my fuzzy halo of intoxication that I was in trouble.

  "Your boss?" she asked.

  "Slash friend."

  "I take it you're not going in tonight?"

  I shook my head. "No. Not when you obviously need a babysitter."

  "Shut up," she said, waving a hand in my direction. "I do not."

  "Plus-" I scooted back in the booth, transfixed by the drunken sparkle in her eye. "Now that you're drunk, I was thinking I might stand a chance of scoring another kiss."

  She froze, her eyes unblinking, and she held my gaze for a split second too long before casting her eyes down.

  I furrowed my brow. "What?"

  "I wasn't going to mention that again."

  "Should I not have?"

  She lifted her eyes to meet mine and lowered her voice. "Is it wrong that we did that?"

  "According to who?" I asked, sliding my half empty glass of green stomachache towards me.

  "I suppose you have a point."

  "Anyway," I said. "I was only offering because I know you want to try it again, and I don't want you to feel weird about it."

  She rolled her shiny eyes.

  "What?"

  "Trust me,” she said. “If I wanted to kiss you again, I would."

  I raised my eyebrows. "Oh, well that's a relief. I was worried you might still be totally repressed-"

  "Excuse me?"

  "And I’d hate for you to make out with your own hand when my perfectly capable lips are available."

  She shook her head. "First of all, I haven't made out with my hand since I was fourteen."

  "If you say so."

  "And who says I even want to kiss you again?"

  I leaned forward and fixed my eyes on her. "You're right."

  "Thank you."

  "You probably don't."

  She folded her arms. "Yeah."

  "But only because you're afraid you won't be able to stop there."

  Her mouth f
ell open.

  "Admit that you've had wet dreams about me."

  "Girls don’t have wet dreams."

  I squinted at her. "Truth or dare?"

  She swallowed and let her eyes drop to my lips before raising them again. "Truth."

  I smiled. "Have you ever had an inappropriate thought about me? About us?"

  She craned her neck back. "Define inappropriate."

  "That's a fucking yes ladies and gentlemen."

  "Don't be gross."

  "Me?" I covered my chest with my hands. "You're the one having filthy thoughts about your stepbrother."

  Her eyes darted around the packed bar. "Are you done?"

  "Yeah. I'm done." And I was. After all, I wasn't about to take advantage of her when she was drunk, especially after the shit day she had.

  But I needed to let her know that the thought of kissing her again had crossed my mind, and what better way to do that than by calling her out for having the same idea?

  Besides, I was growing increasing less concerned about the consequences of wanting her. And I knew myself well enough to know that if things continued in this vein, I wasn't going to be able to keep my hands to myself.

  "Truth or dare?" she asked.

  I looked at her over my glass while I poured some more sweet tequila down my throat. "Truth."

  "Do you want to be buried or cremated?"

  I raised my eyebrows. "What the fuck? You're plotting my death now? I didn't mean to get you that wound up."

  "No. I'm not plotting your death, and I'm not wound up by your childish teasing. I'm just curious."

  I shrugged. "Well, I suppose I hate the idea of staying put for eternity, so cremated."

  "And where do you want your ashes scattered?"

  I yanked on the strings of my hoodie. "Can I change my answer if I think of something better?"

  "Sure. Whatever."

  "In that case, you know how they die the Chicago River Green on Paddy's Day?"

  "Yeah."

  "I'd liked to be dumped in there. On the actual day. Right in the middle of the goddamn party."

  She stuck her lower lip out and nodded.

  "What about you?"

  "Can I change my answer if I think of something better?"

  "Of course."

  She cocked her head and one of her tank top straps fell off her shoulder.

  I watched her slide it back up with her delicate fingers.

  "Cremated for sure," she said.

  "And where do you want your fairy dust sprinkled?"

  "Maybe along the Golden Gate Bridge."

  I furrowed my brow. "Why?"