“But I like the yellow ones.”
“Huh?” She crinkles her nose like some sort of woodland creature.
I flick my fingers toward the picture.
“Oh, ew, the yellow ones? Get out, I changed my mind. We can’t be roomies.”
“Ah, shit.” I place a hand over my heart, feigning hurt. “I can’t take back the monogrammed towels now.”
“But lemon—” she sounds entirely offended, “—is blasphemous.”
“Strawberries are gross—artificial strawberry flavoring? It might as well be used as poison.”
She pushes at my chest; her small hands hardly make a dent against my muscled body.
“Why won’t you move?” she huffs out, nearly falling face first on the floor when her feet begin to slip on the rug.
I grab her arm to steady her and as she rights herself I get a shot of her tight white jog bra beneath the cropped sweatshirt she wears.
“Are you guys done having your first roommate spat? I’d like to be able to take my girlfriend to dinner tonight and at the rate we’re going, this mattress won’t be inside come morning.”
I let go of Lou’s arm and glance behind me at my best friend.
“Always such a whiner—why didn’t I leave your ass a long time ago?”
A strangled laugh leaves him. “Because I keep the fridge stocked with beer.” Peering around me, he glances at Lou. “Just a heads up, Abel leaves the toilet seat up.”
I shake my head. “Fucking hate you, dude.”
He’s not lying—but when it’s two guys living in the same place, what’s the point?
“Since it looks like you guys have it covered, I’ll be in my room.” Lou points toward her right. “Your room is there.” She points to a bedroom on the opposite side.
She pads across the old, dinged up hardwood floor and closes her door softly behind her.
Shaking my head, I fight a smile.
I don’t know this girl, only just met her, but something tells me living with her is going to be unforgettable.
6
Lou
I stay sequestered in my room while Abel brings his stuff in with the help of Justin and Kelly.
I keep my door closed so I can’t be tempted to peek. Normally, I would offer to help, it’s the kind of person I am, but when Abel’s hand touched my elbow I felt the same thing I did when we first met. The electricity, a sizzle of connection that’s unexplainable.
I’ve never felt anything like it, and I don’t want to feel it for someone like Abel.
Yes, he seems nice enough, but I’ve heard things. College is a breeding ground for gossip, and people like Abel who are on the top of the social chain are the most talked about. He’s the kind of guy who dates supermodel type girls and then discards them like they’re not worthy of a Wal-Mart greeter position. I can’t be dragged into something just because he’s possibly the best-looking man I’ve ever seen, and my body seems unable to not react to him.
He’s my roommate—I need him to help pay the bills, so I don’t end up homeless.
I don’t need to form a pathetic crush on him like some little girl who litters her room with posters from the Jonas Brothers and scribbles Future Mrs. Nick Jonas on her notebook—not that I ever did that or anything.
The longer I can stay away from him and his magnetic charm, the better. We’ve never run across each other on campus before, so that part should be easy enough. It’s not like we’ll be going out and doing things together because we’re roommates, so the only time I should have to avoid him is when we’re both here, which hopefully won’t be often. I babysit for a few families, that’s how I make enough money to live here—or until stupid-face Jamie decided to hike up the prices—and Abel must have a job too. I don’t know of any college student who gets to freeload. We work, we go to school, we pay bills—and then live off of Kraft mac n’ cheese and ramen noodles.
There’s a soft knock on my bedroom door and I snap the lid of my computer closed like I’m about to be caught watching porn.
Wait, does this mean I’m going to have to mute my porn now that I have a roommate?
Everyone needs some self-lovin’ now and then. Don’t act like you’ve never twiddled your diddle.
“Um, yeah?” I choke out, straightening my clothes—again acting like I was just watching porn moments ago.
I totally wasn’t—not that I won’t be guilty of it in the future.
“Can I come in?”
Abel’s deep, husky, man voice sounds behind my closed door.
It’s beyond weird to think I have a roommate now. A male roommate. As in, one with a penis.
I wonder what it looks like? Someone as tall and big as him has got to be hung, right?
Oh my God! Snap out of it, Lou! You’re worse than a horny teenage boy!
“I need to get laid,” I mutter to myself.
“Huh?” Abel mutters.
“Shit.” I shake my head. “I said you could come in,” I lie.
My door swings open and he steps inside. His larger-than-life presence threatens to swallow my room whole.
“Can I help you with anything?”
Way to sound like a customer service representative, Lou.
He cracks a small smile. His dark hair is damp from a shower and he’s changed into loose gym shorts and a gray t-shirt with our University’s mascot—a hornet.
“I was going to order pizza for dinner. You want any?”
“Do I look like I’d say no to pizza? Only crazy people turn down that deliciousness.”
He chuckles, his eyes dancing around my room as he takes things in. His eyes stop on the lit neon pink sign above my bed that says Hello Gorgeous in cursive writing. I’ve been obsessed with neon signs for as long as I can remember. When I was a little girl I was enamored with all the multi-hued lights at our local carnival, so when I moved out on my own I knew I had to have one. As luck would have it, I found this one at a yard sale for five bucks.
It was fate.
“You’re quite … vibrant,” he remarks, pointing at the sign even though he’s talking about me not it.
I shrug, my loose sweatshirt falling off one shoulder with the gesture. “I am who I am.”
He shoves his hands into the pockets of his shorts and his brown eyes meet mine. “What do you get on your pizza?”
“Whatever you’re ordering is fine. I’m not picky.”
He tilts his head. “Why do I feel like that’s a lie?”
I smile, because he’s caught me. “I like onions and green peppers—but red pepper flakes on the side is a must.”
“Cool. I’ll call the order in. I thought maybe we could bond over beer and pizza.”
“I can’t say no to those two things,” I reply, even though I know this means I can’t hide in my bedroom any longer.
I’m not intimidated by Abel, but having lived alone for so long I don’t really know what to do with myself.
He’s already pulling his phone out of his pocket as he walks out of my room and I flop back on my bed, letting out a long sigh.
I know the awkwardness will fade with time and I’ll get used to someone else being here, but at the moment it sucks.
Like what if he constantly has friends over? Or a revolving door of girls?
I am so not going to be a part of that weirdness.
Groaning, I rub my hands over my eyes and sit up. I blow out an exaggerated breath, stirring the hair around my face. Grabbing a hair tie from my wrist I gather up the long blonde strands into a messy knot on top of my head.
Finally stepping out of my room, I nearly haul ass back inside and isolate myself there.
The common living space is now littered with things. Things that are not mine but are definitely Abel’s. There’s a half empty bottle of blue Gatorade on the coffee table, a red sweatshirt tossed on the back of the couch, and a pair of tennis shoes lying on the floor.
Clean up after myself, my ass.
The urge to pick up and straighten t
he out of place items is strong, but somehow, I manage to hold my chin high and pretend it doesn’t matter to me.
There are far more important things in life than the possible water ring forming on my coffee table because he didn’t use a coaster.
“Oh my God,” I cry, unable to take it. I dive over the couch, and roll off of it, picking up the bottle of Gatorade and rubbing the sleeve of my sweatshirt over the wet spot before grabbing a coaster from the side table and placing it in the same spot.
“That was impressive.”
I jump, and the bottle falls from my hand before I can set it down and rolls under the couch.
At least the cap is screwed on tight.
I press my lips together, looking up at Abel towering above me from where I’m sprawled on the floor. “Um…” I hum, thoughts ticking. “There’s a totally reasonable explanation for this … as soon as I come up with one.”
His grin becomes impossibly larger. “I take it you have a thing for coasters?” He quirks one brow, regarding me with amusement.
“I-I like things kept neat.”
He tilts his head to the side. “Rule number five, coasters are a must. Noted.”
“There were three rules.”
“No.” That ridiculously gorgeous smile of his grows. “You added a fourth—no falling in love with you.”
“R-Right,” I stutter. I feel stupid down here on the floor while he stands above me, tall and immovable like a mountain, but at this point it feels more ridiculous to pick myself up.
Besides, his bottle is still under the couch and I can’t leave it there.
“Maybe we should make a board with all these rules and amendments.” He’s still smiling, his tone light, but I already feel like a failure at this whole roommate thing.
Damn, my control freak ways! I blame my mother for this! Heaven forbid there be one speck of dust in her house, and even though I swore to never be like that, here I am. We become our parents even when we say we won’t.
“There won’t be any more added rules. Promise.” I cross my fingers over my heart.
“You gonna get up now?” He holds out a hand to me and I stare at it blankly.
I didn’t know a hand could be sexy, but Abel’s is. I’m seeing for myself, in the flesh, why he’s the talk of campus. His tanned hand is masculine and strong looking. I didn’t know a hand could look strong, but his does. His nails are short and rounded, his palms rough looking like he uses them a lot for more than football. The thick veins in his hand rope up into his forearm and—
I’m staring.
I’m staring at his fucking hand.
If this isn’t proof I need to get laid, I don’t know what is.
“Oh, um, I’m quite comfortable down here.” I flop backwards, lying down. “See, I can do floor angels.” I sweep my arms back and forth like I’m making a snow angel. There’s not much room, but I make it work.
He busts out laughing, that beautiful hand going to clutch his stomach. “You’re something else, Lou.” He wags his finger at me. “Living with you is going to be fun.”
He turns his back, and I let out a breath.
He might think living with me is going to be a blast, but my lady parts have decided it’s going to be absolute torture. It should be illegal to have to live with someone as gorgeous as him. It’s not fair to us mere mortals.
Exhaling a sigh, I roll onto my stomach and shove my arm under the couch, reaching blindly for the bottle. I manage to get my fingers around it and when I pull it out, I bring an empty pink starburst wrapper and an unopened condom. I quickly shove those two things back under the couch and place the Gatorade firmly on the coaster, glaring at the drink for causing this whole mess.
From across the room the reason for my dancing lady bits meets my eyes.
I gulp.
“Is that pizza here yet?”
Great segue there, Lou. You’re the sharpest crayon in the box.
“Are you planning to eat on the floor?”
Jesus Christ! I’m still on the fucking floor!
I place my hands on the coffee table and push my body up. Squaring my shoulders, I raise my chin. “Better?”
“You don’t look nearly as uncomfortable,” he remarks with a casual shrug.
I exhale a breath, hating that my stomach is in knots.
I blame it on the fact I’m used to being alone and it has nothing to do with his dark brown eyes doing a slow perusal of my body.
My body quakes with a shiver.
“Cold?”
I shake my head.
“Hmm,” he hums. “Interesting.”
A smug smile tilts his lips and my eyes narrow, wanting to wipe that look off his face. It’s not condescending, more amused than anything, but it still irks me.
If I could strangle Jamie Miller for forcing me into this whole roommate situation and get away with it, I would.
It hasn’t even been a full twenty-four hours and I’m wondering how I’m going to survive living with campus’s star player.
One thing is for sure, I’m going to need a hell of a lot of Starbursts, a venti Pink Drink from Starbucks, and a U-Haul size truck full of patience.
Two of the three sound doable.
I guess it’s better than nothing.
* * *
Abel
Lou disappears into the bathroom, and I take a seat at one of the barstools in front of the small breakfast bar attached to the kitchen.
Watching her vault herself over the couch because of her mini-panic attack over my bottle of Gatorade resting on the coffee table without a coaster was not only amusing but kind of impressive. I didn’t know someone with such short legs could leap like that.
Not going to lie, it was kind of hot.
I hear her mumbling something to herself behind the closed bathroom door and I let out a small chuckle.
She’s stayed holed up in her room most of the afternoon. At first, I figured she was giving me space to get settled, but then I decided she was avoiding me.
I’m sure it’s awkward as fuck for her, being stuck with a brand new roommate when she’s used to living alone, but avoiding each other sounds like a headache. That’s when I decided ordering pizza sounded like a great way to bond. Everybody loves the stuff, and if they don’t, they’re not my kind of people.
There’s a knock on the door and it couldn’t be better timing because I’m fucking starving. If Lou doesn’t get out here I might end up eating the entire pizza by myself.
I sign the receipt and hand it back to the delivery guy before taking the large box from him. Kicking the door closed with the back of my foot, I swipe the lock into place and set the box on the counter.
“Lou,” I call, “food’s here.”
I doubt she doesn’t know it, but I figure it’s good to remind her she can’t hide forever. I don’t want her to be afraid of me. We’re going to be living together for a while, since I plan on staying here through the year until I graduate. Perhaps even longer if she’ll let me, while I figure post-grad things out.
It’s crazy to think this time a year from now I won’t be in college anymore. The real world awaits and I’m none too excited for it.
I fix myself a plate and sit down on the couch in front of my Gatorade. I turn the TV on and flip through the channels. I stop on Full House, because something tells me if I put ESPN on Lou will strangle me before I even spend one night here.
The door to the bathroom opens and Lou steps out. Some of her blonde hair escapes her haphazard bun, and she looks ruffled.
“What?” I ask, holding a piece of pizza halfway to my mouth.
She blinks at me.
“Are you broken?” I probe.
She exhales a breath. “It’s only really settling in with me that there’s one bathroom.”
“Okay?” I raise a brow in inquiry.
“Well,” she begins slowly, wringing her small fingers together. “Contrary to popular belief, girls do, in fact, poop.”
This gir
l.
I can’t contain my laughter. I’m pretty sure Lou is the only woman in the world who would willingly bring up this topic. I like her openness and it makes me wonder how we’ve never crossed paths before. If we had, I know I would’ve remembered her.
When I manage to sober myself, I meet her wide-eyed gaze, setting my plate back down, the food far less interesting for the moment. “I assume anyone, male or female, with a normally functioning bowel system does, in fact, poop.”
“Yeah, and it smells,” she says slowly like I’m not gathering what she’s saying. With a massive sigh, she sticks her hands on her hips.
“I lived with Justin for the last three years. Believe me when I say, nothing can be worse than the damage he punches the toilet with. Now, can we please move on to a different topic so I can eat my dinner?”
She stares at me for a moment before shrugging. “Fine.”
As easily as that one word she dismisses the conversation and her worry seems to ease. She’s a peculiar sort of person.
She grabs a plate and a couple of slices of pizza. “You didn’t need to get only onions and green peppers on the whole thing,” she comments, picking up a packet of red pepper flakes to sprinkle across the two slices she has on a plate.
Finishing the bite I’m chewing, I reply, “It’s what I always get.”
Her eyes widen and I swear her lips mouth the word fate.
Grabbing her plate she joins me on the couch, curling her legs under herself. She’s close enough for me to get a whiff of her perfume, or maybe it’s lotion, whatever it is smells flowery with a hint of vanilla, like the cupcakes my mom used to make.
“Full House?” she asks, noticing what I have the TV on. “I didn’t peg you as the Full House kind of guy.”
I grin around a mouthful. “I always had a crush on Aunt Becky.”
“I’d make fun of you, but I’m pretty sure anyone with eyes and a vagina has crushed on Uncle Jesse at some point in time.” She takes a bite, chews, and swallows, before her light blue eyes swing my way. “How is it the big man on campus ends up practically homeless and living with his sister? I would think you’d have friends and admirers begging at your feet for you to live with them, yet here you are.”
Desperately Seeking Roommate Page 4