“I have other friends, sure, but…” I trail off, not sure how to finish.
“But?” she prompts in a challenging voice.
I wipe my hands on a paper towel I tore off before sitting down. “Living in a house full of guys partying and drinking every chance they can, well … it gets old fast. Don’t get me wrong, I’ve had my fair share of benders, and parties are fun every now and then, but maybe I’m getting old because I can’t handle that scene nonstop anymore. So, I’m here.” I stretch my legs out as far as I can, which is difficult with the coffee table, but something tells me Lou would strangle me if I put my feet up there, but with long legs, I need to stretch them from time to time.
She mulls over my words. “That seems like a legitimate reason to me.”
“Don’t tell any of my friends that,” I warn her with a chuckle. “They’ll never let me live it down, but I do actually need to study and graduate.”
“What are you majoring in?” She nibbles on a piece of crust, moving her teeth from one side to the other like a beaver.
“I want to be a physical therapist.”
Her eyes widen in surprise. “Wow, that’s cool.”
“You look shocked.”
She finishes her crust and brushes the crumbs from her hands onto the plate. “Not to sound judgmental or anything, but I assumed all football players were air-heads.”
I chuckle. “Definitely not judgmental at all.”
Her cheeks flush with color.
“You know we have to keep our GPA up to be on the team, right?”
“Sure.” She turns her body toward me. “But I figured coaches didn’t really care about that kind of thing.”
“Not my coach.” I shake my head. “He’s a stickler on grades. What about you? What are you going to do with your life, Lou?”
She snorts, brushing an errant hair behind her ear. “Does anyone ever truly know what they’re going to do with their life?” She exhales a weighted sigh. “I’m studying journalism,” she replies. “As for what I’ll do with it, who knows.” She gives a small shrug, rubbing her lips together in thought. “Hopefully I can get hired at a magazine or something when I graduate. A stepping stone of sorts.”
“Into what?” I prompt, draping my arm over the back of the couch. I don’t know if she even notices but she scoots a bit closer to me.
“Something that means something. I want to make a difference in the world.”
“I think you will.”
“Why?” she blurts. “You don’t even know me. We’re two strangers who’ve been thrown together because I’m desperate for a roommate so I don’t get evicted and you need a place to live.”
I laugh, entirely amused by her bluntness. “Some things are easy to know.”
She wrinkles her nose. “That makes no sense.”
“It makes perfect sense.” I stand up then, swiping both our empty plates from the coffee table. She sits there watching as I clean them in the sink and wrap up the pizza before dropping the now empty box in the trash. Facing her where she’s curled on the couch, I utter a soft, “Night, Lou.”
She inhales a shaky breath. “Goodnight, Abel.”
“Sweet dreams,” I murmur, edging toward my new room.
I step through the threshold and I’ve almost closed the door completely when I hear her reply.
“The sweetest.”
I close my eyes as the door clicks closed softly.
The sweetest.
It was always my reply as a little boy when my mom tucked me into bed at night. Even now I can picture her dark hair sweeping over her shoulders as she’d lean forward to kiss my forehead before telling me to have sweet dreams.
Fate.
I hear Lou’s voice echo through my skull on the phone only a few days ago, telling me fate would guide our way if we were meant to meet.
I never believed in something so trifle, but now, I’m beginning to wonder.
7
Lou
I present the check for rent to Jamie with a proud smirk. He eyes the slip of paper in my hands before his hazel eyes lift to mine.
“Did you start stripping, Lou? Who’d you blow?”
I shove the check against his chest. “Take it and go, Jamie.”
A slow grin tilts his lips and behind him the door to the building opens and Abel enters, shaking rain from his hair and stomping his boots on the rug someone laid out—definitely not Jamie—to keep people from slipping.
“All I’m saying is, if you’re shimmying on a pole, that’s something I’d like to see.”
Over his shoulder Abel’s eyes widen, flashing with anger.
Before he can snap at Jamie I meet his eyes and say, “Abel, meet our landlord Jamie. Jamie, this is my new roommate, Abel.”
Jamie turns around, holding out his hand. Abel doesn’t grab it and he lets it fall.
“Well,” Jamie holds up the check I shoved at him, “I have other people to collect from. But I’ll be visiting again soon, because this is in violation of your lease.”
“Excuse me?” I blurt, while Abel’s eyes turn deadly.
Jamie’s smile grows wicked. “He needs his name added to the lease. Legalities and such. You understand,” he says in a mocking tone.
“I’ll sign whatever you need me to. Leave Lou out of it.”
Jamie rubs his lips together, fighting a grin, and tips his head at me like the gentleman he’s not. “See you soon then, Louise.”
Abel’s shrewd eyes watch Jamie disappear up the stairs to harass someone else.
He adjusts his backpack, currently slung over one shoulder and heads inside the apartment. I close and lock the door behind him.
I only had morning classes today, so I’ve been home for hours, but I did see Abel on campus today, which I swear has never happened before. He even waved, while I looked around awkwardly wondering if he was actually waving at me. A dark-haired girl, basically clinging to his elbow shot daggers at me.
If she’s one of his many admirers I don’t know what she’s worried about. It’s not that she’s prettier than me, but I’m done chasing after guys and while Abel is hot, getting involved with my roomie is a big no-no.
When I turn around Abel is leaning against the breakfast bar, his backpack on the floor by his feet.
“Does that guy always talk to you like that?” He crosses his muscular arms over his chest, his plain white shirt riding up a bit and exposing his smooth tan stomach. Abel has ridiculously warm colored olive skin only attainable with the right genetics that can’t be replicated in a tanning bed, despite how many girls try.
“Who? Jamie?” I scoff, waving a dismissive hand. “He’s an ass-face, but he’s harmless.”
Abel narrows his eyes. “A man should never talk to a woman like that.”
I head over to the refrigerator and grab a Capri-Sun—they might be geared toward children, but I can’t seem to stop drinking them. I like the squeezable silver packages and the satisfaction of stabbing them with the yellow straw as much as the flavor. Beside the juice pouches it’s obvious there’s an invader in my home—or a new roommate, whatever—because there are Gatorade bottles lined up beside them along with newly added Smart Water and Coors Light.
“Honestly, it’s not a big deal.” I slam my fist down on the counter with the yellow straw clasped in my hand. The plastic breaks and I stab the drink pouch, taking a long sip of the Orange Pineapple Tango flavor. “Jamie’s just like that. He doesn’t mean anything by it.”
Abel sighs and runs his fingers through his dark hair. “Sorry, I’m just … a little testy about that sort of thing. My sister was in an abusive relationship when she was in her early twenties. Since then, I can’t stand when a guy talks to a woman like that. It’s wrong.”
“But your sister is good now?”
He nods, easing into one of the barstools. “Yeah, she’s married to a great guy and has her own family. Trust me, if he treated her like shit I’d do anything I could to get her away from him.”
/> “Well,” I say, slurping my Capri-Sun. “I have to babysit tonight, so you’ll have the place to yourself.”
A slow grin tilts his lips. “Should I add no parties to that list you promised wouldn’t get any longer?” I roll my eyes in response and he chuckles. “Kidding, I actually have some studying to do while I can. We have a game tomorrow, you coming?”
I snort. “Me?” I point to myself incredulously. “To a football game? No.” I shake my head rapidly.
His smile widens. “Why not?”
“I’d be bored out of my mind. If I want to waste that much time I could do something else with it—like seeing how many licks it actually takes to get to the center of a Tootsie Pop.” He chokes and my jaw drops. “I was talking about an actual lollipop.”
He stands up and grabs his backpack. “I’m going to study. I’ll see you later, or tomorrow, I guess.”
Looking at the time, I know I need to throw on some clothes—I changed into my PJs as soon as I got home from class—and head out.
Finishing my Capri-Sun I toss it in the trash, smiling to myself. In the week Abel has been here, he’s taken the trash out every time, which is a definite bonus in a roommate. One time, I took the trash out and screamed bloody murder when I encountered an opossum. I don’t think it was impressed by my ninja moves or the flailing trash bag.
Closing my bedroom door behind me I inspect my closet for something comfy to change into. I’m babysitting, not going on a date, and I’m likely to be spit up on so wearing my nice clothes is pointless. I settle for a pair of stretchy yoga pants and a Jonas Brothers shirt. I might have a mild, totally not stalkerish at all, obsession with them.
I fix my hair into a ponytail just as someone starts to pound incessantly on the door.
“Abel?” I call out, hoping he’ll get it.
The knocking continues.
Uttering an indignant groan I shove my feet into my pair of white Chucks, forgoing doing the laces for the moment, and stomp over to the door.
If it’s Jamie again I can’t be held responsible for my actions.
I swing the door open in dramatic fashion, but it’s not Jamie on the other side.
Instead, it’s the dark-haired girl I saw Abel with on campus. She’s a Megan Fox lookalike with full lips and slanted blue eyes, pretty but in a mean girl way.
Faking a smile, I ask, “Can I help you?”
She holds a bottle of wine—ew, what college student drinks wine?—and waves it around. “Bringing Abe a house warming present.”
Abe.
She peers around me as if searching for him.
“Are you going to let me in?” She smiles, but it’s fake.
I step aside. “Welcome,” I grumble.
I know I can’t begrudge Abel having people over, this is his place now too. God knows Miranda will probably be here all weekend, but this chick’s attitude ruffles my feathers.
“I’m Lou, by the way,” I add, because it seems like the nice thing to do.
She looks me up and down, like she’s wondering why I’m still talking to her and would bother to offer my name. “Where’s Abe’s room?”
“There.” I point at his closed bedroom door.
“Thanks.” She smiles again and this time she looks like a great white shark ready to take a bite out of me.
I don’t quite understand what her issue is. It’s not like we know each other, and I’m definitely not friends with Abel, we’ve not even been living together a full week yet, so there’s no reason for her to hate me, except…
Except she clearly wants a piece of Abel, and I’m the girl living with him.
Bending over I tie my laces and swipe my keys from the counter along with my phone.
As I head out, she opens Abel’s door and I let out a breath, hoping they’re done sexing it up by the time I get back.
* * *
Abel
The door to my room opens and I look up from my computer where I’m writing a paper, expecting Lou—probably saying goodbye before she leaves—but it’s Danika instead.
“What are you doing here?” I ask, setting my computer aside and standing up.
I don’t like her in my room, in my space. We were partnered up our sophomore year for one project, and run in the same social circles, but she constantly finds reasons to be near me.
She’s hot, sure, with a great pair of tits and a nice ass, but she’s certifiably crazy and apparently a stalker because I didn’t tell her where I live.
“I ran into Justin at the grocery store.” She stays by the door, probably picking up on the animosity rolling off of me in waves.
I know she’s wanted me to fuck her for a long time, but not because she likes me or remotely cares about me. No, girls like Danika only care about climbing the social ladder. I’ve been there, done that type of girl in the past, and I’m over it. It’s why I vowed this summer to spend my senior year focused on school, football, and graduation. Distractions like sex don’t fit into that equation. Deciding to stay celibate for the school year is probably not my best idea, but it seemed like a good one at the time.
When I don’t say anything, she continues, “We got to talking and he said you moved out. I told him I’d like to bring you a house warming present, so here I am.”
She sets the wine bottle on my dresser beside the door and her tongue flicks out, moistening her lips as her fingers go to the buttons on her shirt.
“But the real present is me.”
She gets enough buttons undone to show the lace of a hot pink bra and my eyes can’t help but stare at her full pert breasts straining against the cups.
I might’ve vowed to be celibate this year, but I’m still a guy, and Danika is hot. But … fuck, if I’m going to break this vow and this early into it, it’s not going to be with her.
“Stop,” I warn her.
She takes calculated steps toward me. “Don’t you want me?”
The sickeningly sweet scent of her perfume hits me and my stomach roils against it.
“Danika.” I grab her hands when they start to trail under my shirt. “Go home.”
She pouts. If she means for it to be attractive, it’s not. She looks like a pitiful child begging for a piece of candy.
“I’ve been waiting for you to wake up and see me for two years now.” I wait for her to stomp her foot because it seems like the kind of thing she’d do. “And you don’t see me, not at all.”
“I’m sorry,” I say, truly not wanting to hurt her feelings.
I know the rumors around campus, the lies that have been spread about me. How I use girls and discard them. But any girl I’ve slept with has known it was a one and done deal. I’ve never had an interest in dating. My time is devoted to football and making something of my future. It’s what my mom wanted for me and I’ll be damned if I don’t fulfill the promise I made to her.
“I’m not interested,” I tell her.
“Whatever, Abe.” She backs away, buttoning her shirt again and flipping her hair over her shoulder and out of the way.
I truly don’t want to hurt her, but unlike other guys, I won’t settle for any girl who throws themselves at me. I have more respect for women than that. It’s what I learned growing up.
She leaves my room in a flurry, leaving behind the too strong scent of her perfume and a moment later the main door to the apartment slams closed.
I stand there for a moment before I grab the bottle of wine, toss it in the trash, and return to my homework as if nothing at all happened.
8
Lou
“God, I love Chinese food,” Miranda says, carrying the bag of takeout over to the coffee table. “I could marry the delivery boy.”
“Ew, he’s like twelve,” I laugh, digging into the bag.
“There are a lot of dirty and illegal things I’m willing to do for Chinese food.”
She plops on the couch beside me and reaches for the box of vegetable Lo Mein I’ve laid out. I undo the lids on several of the containe
rs before digging in.
Miranda and I go out sometimes, even to parties, but most of the time this is where you can find us. Sitting on my couch, eating take-out, while watching Friends. We’ve seen the entire series way too many times to count, but it doesn’t stop us from rewatching it over and over again.
I pluck out a piece of chicken and dip it in the red sauce before popping it in my mouth.
“You’ve been avoiding me about the whole Charlie thing,” I remind her. “You can’t avoid the subject forever.”
She huffs out a breath, stirring the hair around her face. “I was hoping you’d forget.”
I slap a hand to my chest in mock offense. “Best friends don’t forget anything.”
She rolls her eyes at me and dips an egg roll in sauce before taking a monster bite, once again avoiding the subject.
“Miranda,” I drag out her name in a whiny plea.
She swallows and wipes her mouth on a paper towel. “Ugh, fine. The date was good. He held the door for me, took me to a nice restaurant, we talked and it was actually nice.” She pauses, exhaling a breath and I know something bad is coming. “He drove me home and I invited him up. One thing led to another and suddenly we were going at it like teenagers on prom on the floor of my living room, and it was great sex. Charlie actually knows what he’s doing…”
“But?” I prompt.
“He never texted after that.”
She spears a piece of sesame chicken with a fork and eats it.
“Wow, what a jerk.” I shake my head.
“It’s not a big deal,” she says, and while her tone implies it isn’t, I can see in her eyes that she’s hurt.
“Miranda,” I croon like a mother, wrapping my arms around her. “Guys suck.”
“I know.” She hugs me back. “It wasn’t like I was expecting to ride off into the sunset with him, but I don’t know … I wanted something more, I guess. It’s pathetic.”
Desperately Seeking Roommate Page 5