“I’m making spaghetti if you want some,” Blake offered.
Bethany peered into the fridge but must not have found anything worthwhile, because she came over to Blake and glanced into the pot. She immediately pulled back, her face pinched. “What the hell is that? It looks like blood.”
Blake looked down into her sauce. “Oh, damn, you guessed the secret ingredient.”
Bethany stared at her. “See. This is the shit that freaks me out. You’re kidding, right?”
Blake just shrugged. If her roommate couldn’t tell, why should Blake?
“I’m so over this crazy shit,” Bethany muttered. She started to walk out of the kitchen before adding, “Oh, by the way, I’m moving out.”
Blake’s head snapped around in time to see a smirk on Bethany’s lips.
“When?” Blake asked.
“Tomorrow,” Bethany said in a sing-song voice that made Blake want to force-feed her an apple that would put her to sleep indefinitely. And with that, she stomped down the short hall and slammed her bedroom door.
“Well, she was pleasant as usual,” Celeste said. “What’d she last? Two months?”
“Three,” Blake replied as she stirred the spaghetti that looked wilted, but not in the way it was supposed to.
“Almost a record.”
It was. The longest roommate Blake had ever had was Shelly at five months, and she’d only lasted as long as she did because she’d spent two of them hooked on keyboard duster and the remaining three in rehab.
“Maybe I should look for a male roommate next time. I get along great with all of the guys at Reed’s.”
Celeste laughed. “That’s because you’re hot, and they mistake your sarcasm for flirting.”
“Are you hitting on me?”
“Jesus Christ. Throw that shitty dinner in the trash and meet me at Lobo’s in half an hour. I don’t want to give that asshole Bethany the satisfaction of finding you dead from food poisoning.”
Blake turned off the stove and carried her sauce to the trash. “If you insist.”
Chapter Three
Gavin felt as though he was in perpetual motion. He ran from one job to the next to the next, and then home to sleep, only to wake up and do it all over again. As he raced down the street, he allowed himself to wallow in the misery that was his life. This wasn’t the life he was meant to be living. But here he was, dealing with two jobs, one shittier than the next, just so he could keep a roof over his head. A roof that was being ripped away in a week.
A week. How the fuck was he going to find a place to live in a week? This was the problem with moving in with someone he met on Craigslist. There was a very real chance the roommate was using Gavin’s rent money for PCP and prostitutes. The worst part was that Gavin should’ve known better. He should’ve insisted on being added to the lease and paying his share to the landlord directly. Instead, he’d allowed himself to be nothing more than a squatter in the dingy apartment of a pathological liar.
Gavin threw open the door to The Coffee Bean with more force than was necessary. He scanned the store, thankful it was mostly empty of customers. Then he looked behind the counter, and he was even more thankful. Blake was standing there tying the strings of her black apron around her small waist. It actually would’ve been difficult to tell just how thin she was if it weren’t for the small pieces of fabric that cinched her shirt just under her chest.
Yesterday, Gavin had to force himself not to be a total perv and stare at her all day. Her terrific body, her wavy dark auburn hair that fell over her shoulders, her light-blue eyes, that smattering of freckles on her nose… She was beautiful. The fact that she seemed to have almost no filter was also attractive. Gavin had learned the hard way over the past few years that people rarely said what they meant or were honest about their intentions. In Gavin’s world, Blake was a welcome anomaly.
“Hey, hotness,” she shamelessly called out when she saw him.
He felt heat prick his face and couldn’t help the shy smile that quirked his lips. Giving her a small wave, he dipped into the back to clock in and grab an apron. When he came back out front, tying his apron as he walked, he approached Blake. “Ready?” he asked.
“For…?”
He barked out a laugh, and damn did it feel good. He didn’t laugh nearly enough anymore. “To learn how to make these drinks.”
A look of disappointment crossed her features. “Oh. That’s not nearly as fun as what I was thinking.”
“I bet it wasn’t.” He shook his head at her brazenness even though he liked it.
He showed her where the recipe book was that she could reference if she got stuck. Then he explained the most common orders and a few variations of each.
“How does anyone remember all this?” she asked, her eyes wide.
Gavin shrugged. “Repetition. Most of these get ordered multiple times a day, so it becomes second nature. And the rare ones you can look up.”
“I don’t think my brain has room for all of this. I’ve been a bartender for four years, and I still don’t remember how to make most of the drinks. I just throw whatever in a glass, and people know better than to complain.”
He smiled again. “What happens if they complain?”
“I throw them out.”
Eyebrows shooting up, Gavin said, “You throw people out?”
She widened her stance and put a hand on her hip. “What does that mean?”
“Can we pretend I never said that?”
Blake seemed to mull that over before dropping her arm. “Sure.”
Gavin was dumbstruck for a second. “Wait. Really?”
Blake leaned a hip against the counter. “Yeah. I say shit I shouldn’t all the time, so it’d be hypocritical of me to hold someone else accountable for the stupid things they blurt out.”
Gavin thought there was an insult in there somewhere, but he didn’t dwell on it. “Oh. Great. Thanks.”
Blake nodded. “So let’s talk about more interesting things.”
“Like what?”
“Like you.”
Trying to keep his face blank so she wouldn’t pick up on just how much he didn’t want to talk about himself, he asked, “What do you want to know?”
She tapped a finger against her chin for a few beats before answering. “Boxers or briefs?”
He rolled his eyes with a chuckle. When he saw her eyes alight with mischief, he decided she was teasing and didn’t answer.
“Okay, a real question,” she said. “How old are you?”
“Twenty-five,” he answered.
“I’m twenty-six. I can be your sugar mama,” she joked.
At least he thought she was joking. “Wouldn’t be a hard position to qualify for,” he said in an attempt to tease her back.
But her face grew serious, making it plain that he’d somehow missed the mark. She looked pensive as she studied him. “What qualifications would someone need? In case I find someone interested in applying.”
Gavin laughed again, but it was humorless this time. “Right now, I’d settle for having a couch I could crash on.” He wasn’t sure why he was being so honest. He didn’t need anyone knowing about his personal shit. But part of him wanted to get it off his chest, throw it out into the universe so he didn’t have to carry it all on his own. Which was stupid, but he couldn’t take it back now.
Blake’s eyes grew wide as she bounced on her toes a little. “Oh my God, do you need a place to live? Say yes. Please, please, please say you’re homeless.”
Gavin had never seen someone so excited by the prospect of his homelessness. Even his parents hadn’t seemed to take any actual joy in it, and they’d caused it in the first place.
He busied himself with restocking the cups as he answered. “Not yet. But in about a week I will be if I don’t find something. But don’t worry. I always land on my feet.”
Blake grinned widely. “Well, it actually seems like you’ve landed right in my lap.”
Gavin wasn’t sure what th
at meant, but it sounded both dirty and promising.
* * *
Blake couldn’t believe her luck. Bethany’s dad had shown up at the crack of dawn that morning to help her move her out. Luckily, most of the furniture was Blake’s, since she was the constant in the apartment. Her roommates were the revolving door.
Bethany threw her things into garbage bags, and she and her dad carted them out and down the three flights of stairs without saying much of anything to Blake. Blake had nearly had to tackle Bethany to get the key to the apartment back. A key she’d shoved into her pocket and fingered now as she gazed excitedly at Gavin.
“Do I want to know what that means?” Gavin asked.
“I sure hope so.” She clapped her hands. “This is so amazing. I’m really going to get to be a sugar mama. Though not really, because you’ll need to pay rent. It’s pretty cheap though. Four hundred a month. You’re not going to find a better deal. So what do you say?”
Gavin’s eyes narrowed. “Say to what?”
“Moving in with me! My roommate moved out this morning, so you could move in immediately. She already paid for September, so you wouldn’t even need to pay until October.”
“You want me to move in with you?” he asked. He sounded confused, which she couldn’t understand. She thought she was being pretty damn clear.
“Yes. It’ll be perfect. I was just telling my friend Celeste how I should find a male roommate because the girls never last. And now here you are. It’s like fate.”
“Why do the girls not last?”
Uh-oh. This was exactly the kind of situation where Blake needed to slow down and think before she spoke. But she didn’t. “Because I can be a little…much.”
Gavin’s eyes flashed with unease.
“But not like, serial-killer much,” Blake added in a hurry. “I’m not hiding bodies in the floorboards or anything. But I am a tad eccentric. It becomes endearing after a while. You can ask my friend Celeste.” Celeste had recommended Blake refer to herself as eccentric instead of saying she was “batshit crazy,” which was off-putting. Go figure.
She eyed Gavin anxiously as he seemed to think over his options.
“So I could move in immediately?”
Trying to tamp down the flare of hope, she kept her voice even. “Yup.”
Gavin thought for another moment before extending his hand in her direction. “Then you got yourself a roommate.”
“Yay,” she said as she ignored his hand and jumped into his arms for a hug.
“I have a feeling my life is about to get very interesting,” he mumbled against her cheek.
She squeezed him tighter. “Probably. But in all the best ways.”
Chapter Four
“Hey,” Gavin said after letting himself into the apartment and walking toward Blake and Celeste who were sitting on Blake’s couch. “Thanks for this.”
“No problem,” Blake said. When he’d texted to say he was downstairs, she’d unlocked the door and typed for him to come on in.
“Who is that?” Celeste whispered as she watched Gavin carry a large box to his bedroom.
He wore a fitted gray sleeveless shirt that showed off his biceps—and his pecs, Blake was certain, if he’d just put the damn box down. A few seconds later, he emerged from his bedroom, his arms hanging loosely at his sides—which allowed her to confirm her hypothesis about his chest—as he headed for the door.
“Oh. That was Gavin. He’s moving in.”
“You didn’t tell me that.” Celeste said it as though Blake had wronged her in some way.
“What are you talking about? I just told you.”
Celeste rolled her eyes. “Is that, like, The Gavin?”
“Are there other Gavins I’m not aware of?” Blake said flatly.
Her comment earned her an elbow to her side from Celeste. “Shut up. He’s super hot. You were seriously gonna keep this a secret from me? You should be ashamed of yourself.”
“I am. But not for that. I have other transgressions I’d rather not discuss.”
Celeste narrowed her eyes at Blake like she wasn’t sure whether there was truth to Blake’s comment. Then her gaze darted to Gavin as he made another trip into his new room with a small TV and a few bags.
When he came out again, he flipped the white cap he was wearing backward. The action itself was hot, and it served to give a clearer view of his face, which Blake noticed had a gleam of sweat on it. His shirt was also damp, and when he brought the bottom up to wipe his face, Blake’s gaze went to his abs. She was sure Celeste’s had gone there too, though her friend no doubt made more of an effort to hide it.
“You need some help?” Blake asked. “The three-story walk-up is no joke in this heat.”
“Yeah,” Gavin said. “That’d be great! You sure you don’t mind?”
“Oh. You want us to help. I meant more like calling some of your friends. But yeah, we can give you a hand, right, Celeste?”
Celeste looked as if Blake had volunteered her to participate in the Hunger Games. “I’ll let you two have at it. I’m enjoying the view too much to trade it for hard labor.”
Blake shrugged, not entirely bothered by the idea of spending some time with Gavin while sweat glistened on his muscles. “Suit yourself.”
Gavin laughed softly before bringing a bottle of water up to his mouth and taking a long drink. The way his throat moved as he swallowed did things to Blake that made her wonder when Poland Spring had become an aphrodisiac. When he screwed the cap on and set it back down on the countertop, his gaze seemed to catch on the tile. She wasn’t sure if it was the fact that it was only three-quarters finished or the theme that had caught his attention. He didn’t comment on it, and Blake wondered if nothing about her could surprise him. “Thanks. I had two buddies who said they’d help but one’s too hungover and the other’s running late. He should get here soon though, so no worries if you don’t wanna help. We’ll get it done.”
“Is he as sexy as you are?”
“Blake,” Celeste scolded. “You know how I like to be surprised.” Celeste turned to Gavin. “Just ignore her. She has a big mouth.”
“You don’t need to explain how I am,” Blake said. “He already knows, and he’s fine with it. Right, Gavin?”
Gavin’s eyes had darted between the two women, but they settled back on Blake, the corner of his mouth rising in amusement. “Yup, it’s all good.”
“Then my question stands.”
It seemed to take Gavin a moment to remember what the question had even been, but he didn’t seem to mind answering once he did. “Yeah, uh, he’s good-looking. I guess. I mean, I’m not gay or anything, so my opinion might not be the most accurate one, but—”
“Bullshit,” Blake interrupted. “I hate when guys pretend they don’t know if other guys are hot or not. Women can tell if other women are hot, and they have no problem stating it.” She looked to Celeste, running her eyes over her friend’s body. Celeste squirmed in her seat at the appraisal, but that did nothing to deter Blake from sharing her judgment. “Celeste’s a seven. An eight and a half when she puts on makeup and smiles.”
Celeste punched her friend hard in the arm, but Blake had already prepared herself for what was coming and had pulled back in anticipation of the blow so that it barely grazed her. “I’m wearing makeup now,” Celeste said.
“Oh. Then she’s a six. Seven and a half at best.” She laughed at Celeste’s huff, but Blake knew she wasn’t actually annoyed. Celeste was beautiful, more beautiful than Blake in Blake’s opinion, and she’d told her friend that more times than she could remember. But she couldn’t resist tormenting Celeste whenever she got the chance. Especially since Celeste never seemed to mind. “What do you think, Gavin?”
“Um… I don’t…uh, can we go back to evaluating Simon?”
“His name’s Simon?” Blake asked.
“Yeah, why?”
“It drops him down at least a half a point,” she answered. “Simon’s not a hot name.”
“Agreed,” Celeste said.
“Simon’s a normal name,” Gavin said in defense of his friend. “What’s the matter with it?”
“It’s one of the chipmunks,” Blake countered.
“Oh, and that old English guy who used to be on American Idol.”
“Yes,” Blake said. “This game’s fun. Let me think.”
Blake wondered if Gavin would join in, but he seemed too busy trying to figure out what the hell was wrong with them to actually take part in the game.
“Oh, I got another one!” Celeste said. “Simon’s the name of Farrah’s boyfriend. Although I guess they aren’t together anymore, so he’s not technically her boyfriend.”
This time Blake looked as confused as Gavin did. “Who the hell are you talking about?” she asked.
“From Teen Mom. Farrah,” she said as if repeating the name would cause Blake and Gavin to recall a person they didn’t know about. “She was the one who had that anal porn video.”
Blake raised her eyebrows. “Still don’t know who you’re talking about, but now I’m intrigued.”
“Was the tape with the Simon guy?” Gavin asked.
“No. Someone else.”
“I don’t…” Gavin narrowed his eyes as he seemingly tried to figure out what Celeste was talking about. “Would he be hotter if he was the ass porn guy?”
“That,” Blake said, pointing at Gavin, “is an excellent question.”
“No, because Farrah’s a slutty asshole, and anyone who willingly associates with her must therefore also be a slutty asshole. He thinks he’s hot shit, and she’s annoying and fake.” She crossed her arms like her explanation had made all the sense in the world. “It’s the law of transference.”
“Yeah, I don’t know what that is,” Gavin said.
“Me either,” Blake agreed. “I lost you at ‘slutty asshole.’”
Their conversation was interrupted by a knock at the open door, and a man with floppy, dark hair stepped inside carrying a box. “I’m not sure what I’m walking into, but I’m assuming I have the right place.” He looked at Gavin, who was laughing hysterically.
Misadventures with My Roommate Page 2