“It was a B, Tony. She worked her ass off and studied hard for that test. Give her a break,” I tell him, trying to reason with the man.
“That doesn’t help her case. If she worked as hard as she said she did, she wouldn’t have gotten a B.”
My eyes wander to my black joggers, where I find a long blonde piece of hair. It must be Veronica’s. I hold it between my two fingers and let it fly away in the wind as Tony continues to drown on.
“How are your classes going for you, Maverick?” The tone of his voice changes when he asks this—because he respects me.
And it only disgusts me. Selma longs for the exact thing I receive from him so easily. But, that same respect is also an advantage for me. It helps me turn his anger away from her.
“Going well. I’ve been spending a lot of time in the library, but it’s paying off.” My eyes follow a group of students walking down the sidewalk in front of my house.
“I’m glad to hear that. Don’t disappoint me, my boy,” he says.
“I won’t, sir. But I need you to give Selma a break. She’s been working hard.” Somebody’s voice echoes on the other line, and I know that voice is his secretary—Amber. The same secretary that is way too young for him, but somehow, he’s still having an affair with.
I’ve interned at his law firm the last two summers, and anybody with a pair of eyes can see they’re hooking up.
“I gotta go, Maverick,” he rushes out.
And just like that, the line goes dead. When Tony Matthews wants off a call, it’s over. There’s no exchange of pleasantries or long goodbyes.
I sit outside for a few minutes after we end the call, gathering my thoughts. My mind runs over how much of that conversation I want to tell Selma. He’s said enough harsh things to her today, and I won’t let her hear any other negative things tonight when it comes to her as the subject.
My body lets out a long sigh as I stretch in the chair before getting up. When I walk back into the house, Aspen is enthusiastically rattling on about something.
“She’s the most badass chick I’ve ever come into contact with, Selm. I mean, my charm had zero effect on her. In fact, I think it pissed her off. I’m in love.” His hands are flying all over the place as he talks.
Selma giggles from her same perch in the kitchen.
“I can’t believe I’m going to be living in the same house as her,” Aspen says. “This is my wildest fantasy. Oh my god, what if I see her in the shower?” His hand goes over his heart as he mimics a dreamy look on his face.
I throw the closest thing I can find—a dish rag—at him.
“Aspen here is telling me we have a new roommate. Veronica,” Selma explains, pulling her hair up into a ponytail. She expertly winds a hair tie off her wrist and spins it around her hair.
“Where did you even find her, Maverick?” Aspen asks, his hand still resting on chest.
Both Aspen’s and Selma’s eyes find me, each obviously waiting for an answer.
“It happened kind of randomly,” I begin, letting my body fall onto our gray couch. I explain the chain of events, and how it seemed like it’d be a good fit.
“I hope I’m a good fit,” Aspen retorts, grinding his hips.
“Gross,” Selma’s soft voice says, not hiding the laughter.
“I’m so happy you happened upon that beautiful creature, Maverick.” Aspen looks at me like I just gave him front row seats to a Kid Motto concert.
I shake my head at him. Veronica and I only spent a short time together, but somehow, I knew Aspen was going to be very let down by her. She has bars around her made out of Valerian Steel, and I don’t think anybody’s going to easily penetrate those walls—let alone Aspen.
My mind replays the events of the day and how exactly I ended up with Veronica as a roommate despite her rubbing me the wrong way after knowing her for only an hour. I’m still unsure how things will unfold with her. She and I may end up at each other’s throats, or it may be that way with she and Aspen—maybe both.
But I am sure of one thing. Our new roommate seems like there’s a lot more to her than what meets the eye—and I want nothing do with it.
4
Veronica
Two days go by before it’s time to see Maverick and his obnoxious friend again. When we spoke last, we agreed I would bring some stuff over after my shift at the art gallery I work at. I currently have two hours left of my eight-hour shift, and my feet already hurt from the ridiculous pair of heels I decided to wear.
I welcome the pain of the shoes. It’s a distraction from everything else going on in my head.
My boss—Clementine—yells at me from across the studio. “I have someone coming in twenty minutes to pick up a piece they bought. Will you make sure everything is handled accordingly with them? If all goes well, I’m hoping they buy more from us as they decorate their vacation home in the Hamptons.”
My fingers type loudly across the keyboard as I construct the latest social media post for the gallery. I give her a quick response before going back to finishing the post.
In twenty minutes on the dot, a man in his late fifties walks in with a woman who looks to be only a few years older than me on his arm. Standing up and smoothing out my skirt, I walk across the marble floors to greet them. “Welcome to Clementine’s Art Gallery. My name is Veronica. How can I help you today?”
I want to crawl out of my skin as the man’s eyes roam over my body for way longer than necessary. I look at the woman next to him, wondering if she realizes the man she’s with is obviously a perv. She’s too busy typing away on her phone to notice him. Every part of me wants to bite this man’s head off for looking at me the way he is, but instead, I give him my sweetest smile as I wait for his eyes to meet mine once more.
“Hello, dear,” he finally says.
Gross.
“I’m here to pick up a piece,” he states. “Clementine said it would be ready for me.”
“Yes, it is ready for you. Let me get the paperwork and it’ll be all yours,” I tell him. My shoes echo loudly off the floor as I return to the front desk. I already prepped his paperwork, so all I have to do is hand him the clipboard.
As he reads it over, I head to our back room and retrieve the piece he bought. I almost laugh out loud when I realize he purchased the piece Clementine bought from someone at a music festival when she was probably high as a kite. The whole time it’s been on display at the gallery I’ve thought it was hideous, but apparently it just needed someone one a bit more pervy to appreciate it. The piece is made up of strategically placed blobs that very clearly make a shape that looks a lot like a woman’s lady bits.
Art is my jam. I live and breathe it. I admire the piece as I wrap it up nicely before bringing it out to the creepy old man and his way-too-young girlfriend.
After they leave, the rest of my shift drags on. I feel the itch to be deep into my paint set with a canvas in front of me. However, I find myself robotically replying to potential customers on social media.
Finally, the clock reaches four and I give Clementine a brief goodbye before I shoulder my large purse and am out the door. My heels click against the cobblestone downtown sidewalk. When I reach my car, I throw my purse in the passenger seat and unhook my parking pass off the rearview mirror. I already know the location of the house I’ll be living in, so I turn on my music and head that way, knowing I’m about to find out if saying yes to Maverick was a good decision on my part or not.
Between Maverick’s cold indifferent demeanor and Aspen’s overeager personality—my bet is on the latter.
5
Veronica
I pull up to the house seven minutes later. It’s a nice, short drive from the gallery, and walking distance from campus. Each are a plus. When I look up, Maverick is sitting on a balcony, staring down at me. We stare at each other for an awkward moment before he pulls himself out of a lawn chair and slides the patio door open. My eyes stay on the empty porch for a few moments longer before I return to real
ity. Footsteps sound on the stairs as I lift my purse from the passenger seat. When I open my car door, Maverick’s heading in my direction.
His eyes fall to the five-inch heels I have on. He shakes his head. “I was gonna ask if you needed help carrying anything, but I’m almost tempted to let you do it alone just to see if you can manage it in those things.”
My eyes narrow at him. I am fully equipped for this. My mother had me in heels before I even started high school. I could probably run a marathon in these things. No doubt my feet would be hurting, but I’d be damned if I couldn’t do it. “You need to learn one thing right now, Maverick. I can do anything in heels. And I’ll look damn good doing it.”
My feet reach pavement and steadily find themselves on the cracked driveway. With heels on, I’m more eye level with all at least six feet of him than I was the other day. I give him a pointed stare before stepping past him and opening my trunk.
“I thought you said you were only bringing a few things,” he states, his body now next to mine as his eyes roam over my filled-to-the-brim trunk.
My hand reaches in for a large duffle bag. “Oh, this is a few things.”
Maverick shakes his head again, making the top of his hair fall over his eyes, when a voice comes from the house.
The look on his face makes me wonder if he regrets asking me to move in. I’m about to ask when I hear the voice again.
“Where’s my future lover at?”
When my eyes follow the direction of the voice, I find Aspen standing on the porch with a tiny brunette next to him. I let out a sigh, wondering if I can live with this kind of man.
He’s calling me his future lover with his current lover standing right next to him? Really?
“How about you stop drooling over our new roommate and come help me bring in her things? Apparently, a few things actually mean a carload,” Maverick shouts from behind me, his statement carrying a disgruntled tone.
He sidesteps me and starts to climb the stairs to the front door, not giving me a second glance.
My feet steadily take the concrete stairs before I stand at the threshold of what is my new home. Assuming it’s okay to walk right in, I do just that. I’m met with a nicely furnished house that definitely does not look like it belongs to two guys almost out of college.
It has a feminine touch to it.
And just when I’m wondering whose touch it belonged to, the brunette from earlier slides the patio door closed and walks toward me. She’s beautiful. Every part of her screams kindness and even my cold, black heart smiles back at her as she crosses the room. She takes a moment to set her phone down on a gray ottoman before closing the distance between us.
Maverick comes out of a door that must lead to my room, considering his hands no longer hold the boxes from my trunk. He leans a shoulder against the door frame, his stare locked on the girl in front of me.
My focus return to her just as she opens her mouth to speak.
“Hi!” Her voice is as sweet as sugar. It sounds like it belongs in a commercial selling something girly and nice. Her hand extends between us, and I don’t hesitate to take it as I wonder who exactly she is.
“I’m Selma,” she says. “Mav’s girlfriend.”
My gaze automatically locks on Maverick, who’s standing behind her. But when I look at him, I don’t see any emotion on his face. He just stares at the space between me and his girlfriend.
“It’s nice to meet you, Selma. I’m Veronica.” I give her a genuine smile, because she seems too nice to receive a fake one.
Aspen opens the patio door as he exchanges goodbyes with someone on the phone. He dodges a loveseat close to the patio door as he literally swaggers in our direction. “Welcome home, girl!” he exclaims.
Then, he wraps me up in a very unwanted hug that involves my feet leaving the floor. My duffle bag makes a loud thud on the hardwood floor as it falls from my grasp in the process.
“Let’s not scare our new roommate, Aspen.” Selma giggles as she smacks Aspen on the arm.
Her words influence him enough to put me safely back on the ground. His arm, however, stays around my shoulders as I listen to Selma tell me about the house.
As she explains the living area, I take the time to look around. After walking through the ugly green front door, I’m met with a decent sized living space. There’s a large gray sectional pushed up against the wall, decorated with throw pillows. That was my first cue that a female lived in my new humble abode. It’s apparent males live here, though, by the giant flat screen attached to the wall. An informercial about vacuums plays on the screen. Selma continues to ramble on—this time about groceries—as I scan the kitchen.
The kitchen is small, but it has updated appliances. In the corner sits a small white table with four teal chairs surrounding it. I make a mental note to find myself with other plans if they ever ask me to eat with them in the small space. There’s also a bar separating the living room from the kitchen. Three perfectly aligned barstools sit in front of it.
“Veronica?”
Hearing my name snaps me out of my thoughts, and I search for the speaker.
“Want to see your room now?” Maverick repeats.
Selma’s eyes ping pong between me and Maverick before she bends down and grabs my duffle bag from the ground.
I nod, muttering a quiet thank you to her as I pick up my purse.
Maverick’s body retreats down a set of stairs that open up to a basement. Aspen stands a little too close to me as I make my way down and look around.
A pool table sits in the middle of the room. It looks well loved, and apparently a game was cut short, because balls are still scattered around the table. Two pool cues lean against the table, haphazardly propped up. As we walk through the basement, we also walk by an old card table that looks like it’s seen better days.
Finally, we make it into what will now be my bedroom. I have to admit, it isn’t so bad. I’m used to a king-size bed, but considering I’m trying to get away from my parents and their money, a queen will do.
It’s pretty bare in the room. It seems that even though their last roommate ran away with her professor, she still took everything but the bed and a dresser. The dresser sits across from the bed and a full-length mirror is perched on a stool next to it.
Selma sets my duffle bag on the bed, saying there are extra sheets in the linen closet upstairs. The boxes Maverick brought in earlier sit next to what looks like the door to the closet.
“The bathroom is out there,” Selma explains, pointing to the living area in the basement. “I will warn you, the boys come down here a lot. I try to force them to use their own bathrooms upstairs, but they don’t listen.” Her green eyes burn right into both Aspen and Maverick.
Maverick shakes his head, giving her a sweet smile I hadn’t seen on his face until now.
“I’ll try and be on my best behavior for you, girl,” Aspen mutters. He gives me the biggest grin before he jumps up onto my bed—shoes and all.
That will not work for me. Not at all.
“Will you get off?” I ask, attempting for polite as I stare at his shoes against the white comforter.
Aspen doesn’t get off, though. Instead, he puts his hands behind his head and makes himself even more comfortable.
I repeat myself one more time—another time he decides not to listen.
I give him a few more seconds to respond appropriately before I slip one of my heels off. I raise it and smack Aspen in the arm with it. “Off my bed. Now.”
It takes one more hit on his arm, and a shriek from Aspen that is very high-pitched, to remove him from my bed.
“Jesus, Veronica!” Aspen howls, rubbing the red spot my heel left on his arm.
Selma tucks her head into Maverick’s neck, her body shaking with visible laughter. I even hear Maverick chuckle against her hair.
“You were on my bed. With shoes!” I reply in disgust. My hand sweeps the comforter clean where his dirty feet had been.
Asp
en continues to rub the spot on his arm like I just impaled him with the heel. For someone whose muscles look like they belong in an Abercrombie and Fitch catalog, he’s acting like a child.
My now-bare toes touch the tips of his tennis shoes and I look him right in the eye as I slowly say, “Just please don’t get on my bed. M’kay?” I slowly pull a piece of lint off his T-shirt, my eyelashes batting at him as my lips pull into a smile.
“Got it,” Aspen says under his breath at the same time he examines my body.
“Great, now can someone help me get the rest of my things?” I ask.
Maverick gives Selma a peck on the cheek before he retreats out of my bedroom door. Aspen follows close on his heels, but he takes a moment to look over his shoulder and wink at me before he disappears.
“Oh god,” Selma groans, covering her face with her hand. “Lily is going to be pissed.”
Part of me wants to ask her what she’s talking about, but the bigger part of me doesn’t care. Because when I look around my new room, I’m just happy to be away from Beaufort, South Carolina—where my parents live, and where my past still haunts me. Even though I’m definitely not fully separated from living off Mommy and Daddy, I’m a hell of a lot more independent than I was three months ago when I finally had the courage to leave.
Am I used to living in places three times nicer than this?
Yes.
But is this exactly where I feel like I need to be?
Also yes.
My past can’t find me here—that I’m sure of.
“So, when do you want to fully move in?” Selma asks, bringing my attention back to her.
The more I look at her, the more I realize how beautiful she is. All of her features are soft, sincerity embedded in all of them. She wears her coppery brown hair short, so short it barely touches her shoulders. Her eyes are almond-shaped and lift at the corners. Though I’m probably most envious of her eyebrows. Where I have thinner, more arched eyebrows, hers are thick—every girl’s eyebrow wet dream.
The Consequence of Loving Me: An Enemies to Lovers Romance (Aftershock Series Book 1) Page 3