Making the Move: Mill Street Series #2

by Calla, Jessica

  And it was fucking perfection.

  We didn’t put pillows between us. She slept under the sheet and comforter, and I settled over the sheet, between the two. I didn’t shut my eyes as I waited for her to fall asleep.

  When she did, I studied her. Her eyelashes were so long they curved over her cheeks. Her plump lips were open a little, a quiet hum escaping with each breath. Her hair, all the curls, piled on the top of her head, left her earlobes and her neck exposed.

  I wondered if Oliver remembered his first night sleeping with Violet. If he noticed how she tucked her fingers under her cheek. I could have stared at her all night, which was entirely wrong but felt right too. A little too right for the “friend” I had promised to be.

  When I was sure she was asleep, I rolled out of the bed and pulled the blanket over her shoulders. Kissing her forehead lightly, I whispered, “Sleep, Pix,” and then crept back to Ollie’s room.

  As much as I wanted Vi, I wasn’t going to mess up our friendship, what I had of her already, by making things awkward. Maybe my feelings weren’t in control, but I’d make sure that my actions were. She needed me to be something other than what I wanted to be. I could hide my feelings for the sake of her happiness. I’d been doing it for years.

  Back in Ollie’s crap-ass bed, I covered myself and closed my eyes. I pretended to be asleep when I heard the door click open, and then I pretended not to be affected when Vi’s perfect little body crawled into the bed next to mine.

  I relaxed knowing she was there, even though it was wrong. Living together, Violet was starting to notice me now, but if she looked into my eyes hard enough, in a different way than she was used to, she’d see everything I felt in my heart. And once that happened, we could never go back.

  Violet

  Somehow, being with Josh in his apartment felt like being in another world. I was two steps away from the room Ollie and I had been together in, but I never felt as far away from him as I did when I was in Josh’s space. The man was something amazing—big and warm, like a bear. His size, his scent, everything about him, made me feel tiny and feminine by comparison. With Josh, I felt safe and cared for. Seen. And I didn’t want to give him up.

  Still, I had no idea what I was going to do about the mess I’d left in the Mill Street apartment. I should have called Grant to help me, or nudged Josh to figure something out, but I didn’t care enough. I liked living with Josh, way more than was appropriate. We’d both been lonely since the happy couple had jetted off to paradise. It made sense I’d want to be around him.

  Which left me ten days into our new living arrangement, with no plan to leave. And as luck would have it, it was Valentine’s Day.

  In an effort to keep myself from falling apart into a pile of mush on this dumb, fake holiday, I’d dressed up a little more than usual. I looked down at myself, smoothing out my favorite wool dress with my palms. Obviously, I had no date, but Rachel and I had made plans for a late lunch. Then I hoped to lock myself in Josh’s room and binge-watch something dark and creepy.

  As I set up our mugs and got the coffee machine warming up, just like I did every morning, I leaned a hip against the counter. Humming a classical arrangement that I should have been practicing since the beginning of the semester, I waited for the machine to roar to life and debated helping myself to a bowl of cereal.

  The cabinet taunted me. I’d never touched the sacred cereal vault. Josh was super possessive about it, like some secret breakfast portal was hidden inside and Hell would be unleashed if the doors opened. With a glance over my shoulder to make sure he hadn’t yet emerged, I reached for the first cabinet, opening it inch by inch as I peeked in at the treasured boxes.

  Rows and rows of cereal stood like soldiers. There wasn’t anything else on the four shelves he’d claimed for himself. I counted the boxes, twenty-two. The man had twenty-two boxes of cereal. I wouldn’t have been able to eat that much cereal in a year.

  Almost automatically, I reached for my phone to text Ollie a picture, with a caption like, “What’s up with your roommate?” But then I remembered that we weren’t friends anymore, and he wasn’t Josh’s roommate. Apparently, I was.

  As I pulled down boxes and read the labels, a door shut behind me. I quickly slammed all the cabinets closed. Even from the kitchen, I could smell the scent of Josh’s man shampoo as he approached, and when I turned to say hi, my heart sped up at the sight of him. Bare-chested, barefoot, and with wet hair, his thighs flexed in his perfectly-fitted jeans as he walked toward me. He stopped short when he saw that I was in his stash.

  I froze, gripping the box I held behind my back.

  “What are you doing?” he asked, his tone accusatory, as if he’d caught me looking at porn.

  I revealed the sugary mix I’d been hiding, shaking it a bit to tease him. “Thought I’d get myself a bowl of cereal, but you know, maybe you don’t have enough to share.”

  In an attempt to put the dumb box back and get out of there, I opened a cabinet and shoved it onto the shelf.

  “Whoa.” He reached around me, his arm brushing mine as he messed in the cabinets. My eyes at his chest level, I swayed, woozy as I inhaled his soapy, drugstore, active-man-product scent. “You can’t go mixing up all of the boxes. There’s a system here.”

  Getting a hold of myself, I swallowed down my hormones and mirrored his serious look. “Oh, a system. What kind of system?”

  His scornful eyes flashed at me before studying the cabinet and rearranging the boxes. “You can’t just stick that box there, Vi. That wouldn’t make any sense.”

  “Of course it wouldn’t.” I had no idea why, but I pulled the box out again. “So what exactly would make sense?”

  “Not touching my stuff,” he barked.

  Ew. That was new behavior from my otherwise caregiving roommate. “Did you wake up on the wrong side of the bed?”

  “I don’t sleep in my bed. You do.” With a scowl, he took the box, placed it where he wanted it, and then flipped one of the boxes I’d messed with to make the label face out. “Why are you in these cabinets?”

  “I was hungry.” If he wanted to face-off, I was ready. “What’s your problem today? You’re never mean to me.”

  He crossed his arms, glaring. “I don’t have a problem. Except when you touch my cereal.”

  Obviously, he did have a problem, but if he wasn’t going to tell me, then that was on him. “Fine. I’ll find something else to eat.”

  We stayed quiet. I grabbed the bread off the counter to make some toast, feeling his eyes on me. With a groan, he rubbed his hand through his hair spraying drops of water all over.

  Tsking, I grimaced at him, annoyed by his attitude more than the rain shower. He reached to wipe a droplet off my cheek, and I flinched.

  “I’m sorry.” He groaned again and looked me up and down. “It’s Valentine’s Day. You’re all dressed up and digging through my cereal, my sister is on my case, and…” He glanced to the ceiling and back to me. “I’m a little worked up this morning. I think I need some guy time.”

  “Guy time?” He spent most of his time with guys between the gym and the frat. “That’s your excuse for being mean?”

  He didn’t answer but blew out a long sigh, as if I were the most exasperating person in the world.

  Turning a shoulder to him, I pressed the lever on the toaster. “Don’t go getting all huffy. And for God’s sake, can you put on a shirt?”

  He walked toward the bedrooms. By the time he returned, I’d taken a few breaths. I didn’t want to start my day like this. Not this day.

  “Can I try this again, Violet?” he asked from behind me.

  I turned around, glad to see him pulling a T-shirt over his head. He rubbed his hands over his face, sighed at the floor, and then looked back up at me. “Good morning, Pix. Would you like to have some cereal with me?”

  I squinted at him, assessing whether it was a trick. “I don’t know.”

  He groaned, throwing his hands down to his sides. “Wh
at does that mean? Are you hungry or not?”

  “I’m making toast now.” I lifted my chin and turned my head. “And you’re being a jerk.”

  “I’m trying to be nice now. And I apologized.” He opened the cereal vault doors again and waved his arms in a motion to present his collection to me. “Pick.”

  With a harrumph, I tapped my lips with my index finger and stood in front of the cabinets. I trailed a fingernail over the row of boxes, trying to figure out his system. It wasn’t alphabetical. It didn’t seem to revolve around health factors either. Giving up, I pointed at a brightly-colored box.

  He pulled it down and handed it to me, a tight-lipped smiled spread over his face.

  Next, he got two bowls and placed them on the counter. I started to open the box. He tapped his fingers, his nervous tic, as he watched. “Don’t forget to roll down the bag when you’re done so it doesn’t get stale.”

  “Yes, sir.”

  “I’ll get you the milk.” I peeked as he bent into the fridge, taking the liberty of checking out his perfect butt.

  When he stood back up, he caught me, and I quickly looked away.

  “Are you okay today, Pix?”

  “Just hungry.” In more ways than one. Even when he was being jerky, I couldn’t help myself from ogling him.

  “So you’ve said. I mean about it being Valentine’s Day. I’m not a total monster. I know it’s your first one without Oliver. Do you have plans?”

  Oliver who? It was impossible to think about my ex when Mr. January stood hot and wet in front of me. I carried my bowl of cereal to what had come to be known as “my chair,” trying not to stare at the way Josh’s biceps flexed under the tight sleeves of his T-shirt as he carried the milk. “Going to meet Rachel for lunch and then huddle in your bed with Netflix and a horror flick. What about you?”

  I waited as he grabbed the healthy, bran-y-looking stuff from the cabinet and prepped his bowl, dreading that he’d tell me he had plans with one of his many admirers. “Nothing.”

  I almost felt sorry for the women of NJU that Josh didn’t have a date. Images of him doing pushups invaded my mind. I shook my head to clear it.

  He smiled his Hunkarama smile. “I’d love to huddle with you.”

  “You would?”

  “Why not?” He spoke through gritted teeth, tense, like he was trying really hard to be pleasant.

  “Well, because you seem off. Like maybe you’re the one with the issues today.”

  “I’m fine.” He grabbed his coffee and joined me at the table. “Breakfast is served.”

  Unscrewing the cap of the milk, he handed it to me. I poured it into my cereal bowl and handed it back to him.

  Josh didn’t take it though. He was staring, his jaw dropped.

  My eyes widened. “What’s wrong?”

  “What the fuck did you do to that cereal?” he asked, pointing at my bowl.

  I looked down at it. Looked pretty standard to me.

  “You drowned it in milk.” His eyebrows lifted and he looked at me as if I’d just grown another head.

  I scoffed out a laugh. “It’s a bowl of cereal, and you’re being super strange today.”

  “Cereal is an art, Violet. You don’t cover it in milk or it gets so soggy you can’t taste the flavors. What’s the damn point of that?”

  I couldn’t stop myself from laughing at his weirdness. “Are you serious right now?”

  “Oh, I’m serious. I have a mind to dump that slop you created in the trash.”

  “My God. You can’t accept that I like my cereal this way and let me eat in peace? You really are a control freak.”

  “Control freak? Because you are basically drinking a bowl full of milk with a couple of flakes in it? That’s not me being controlling, that’s you being a…a…” Josh looked around as if searching for the right word, “…savage.”

  I gasped. “I don’t know what your deal is today, but you need to get a life. Your passion for cereal is making you crazy.” He watched me as I took a scoop from my bowl and shoved it into my mouth, exaggerating the movement. “Yum,” I sang. “All those soggy marshmallows and that milk. In fact, I think I need more milk.”

  He growled at me as he stood and pulled the milk away. “Don’t you dare—”

  “You know what I think?” Although my voice was normally soft, I yelled at the jerk. “I think you should find a date tonight. You need a girlfriend.”

  He faked a loud laugh. “Because I don’t have enough women in my life? Trust me, that’s exactly what I don’t need.” He walked away from me, into the living room, bowl in hand, muttering. “First, you steal my bed. Now you butcher my cereal, and probably my sanity. What are you even doing here?”

  I followed him with my coffee mug, staring at his back. “You love me being here.”

  “I hate it. Your stuff is all over. Every outlet has a nightlight. It looks like a damn runway every night. The whole apartment smells like,” he made a show of sniffing the air, “flowers or something. What is that smell?” Falling onto the couch, he put his feet up on the coffee table, settling his bowl on his chest. “That mess you made of my cereal may be the last straw.”

  Calling his bluff, I sat next to him, folded my legs under myself, and rested my head on his shoulder. “Then I guess it’s time for me to go.”

  We sat in silence as he slurped down his breakfast and I cradled my coffee mug. After a few bites, his shoulder relaxed under my cheek. “You’re not going anywhere,” he said.

  I smiled and sighed, sinking into the space next to him, lining my body with his. “I’m sorry you had a bad morning.”

  He put the bowl down next to him and lifted his arm around me. “I’m sorry that you’re my target.”

  “This is the strangest relationship I’ve ever been in,” I mumbled.

  “Me too, Pix. Me too.” When I planted my chin on his shoulder, he kissed my nose and smiled. “I’ll never admit this again, but I’d miss you if you weren’t here.”

  My cheeks warmed. I knew he didn’t want me to leave any more than I wanted to go. “It’s gardenias.”

  “What is?”

  “The smell.” I took a deep inhale, the faintest whiff of the flower tickling my senses. “Gardenias. Do you like it?”

  He rubbed my shoulder. “It’s not the worst smell.”

  “This place was starting to stink like a locker room.”

  “Really? I take offense to that.”

  “You should.” Detaching from him, I stood. “You’ve been working out like a maniac, sweating all over everything. Come to think of it, with all your working out, maybe your testosterone is in overdrive. Maybe you need to...” I wiggled my eyebrows.

  “Get laid?” he finished. “You think so? I’ll get right on that.”

  With a scoff, he went back to eating his cereal, laughing at a joke that I wasn’t a part of.

  Chapter Five

  Josh

  After Violet’s horrendous slaughter of my morning cereal ritual, I darted off to class, wishing she wasn’t so damn cute. She wasn’t wrong about me needing to get laid, so it probably was time to send her home. But I couldn’t bring myself to do it.

  I liked having her around too much. Not only did I love seeing her in the morning, but also noticing the girly touches she’d put in the apartment, the dumb shows that now crowded up my Netflix queue and filled my DVR. I hadn’t known her without Ollie, and he had been a huge influence on her, on both of us. Violet without Ollie was just Violet, and I still loved everything about her. Only more now that she was coming into herself.

  And it was driving me insane.

  As much as I loved having her around, her presence put me on edge physically. Not in a horrible way, but in a I-want-to-touch-you-so-bad-but-can’t way. This morning, seeing her all cute in her dress thing, and the boots… Shit, I’d lost it. I rarely lost it.

  In apology for my cereal meltdown earlier, I stopped at the deli on Mill Street and ordered us sandwiches for dinner later, glad w
e’d be together that night. Selfishly, I was happy she didn’t have a date so I could have her all to myself, if only for one Valentine’s Day.

  As I waited for the order, my cell rang with my mom’s ringtone. “Hey, Ma.”

  “Everything’s okay, no worries.” It’s how she started every phone conversation. “How are you?”

  “I’m good. Just finished up classes for the day. Grabbing dinner.”

  “Oh, do you have a date later?”

  “Nope.” Sort of. Not really. Maybe kind of. “What’s up?”

  “It’s about Amelia.”

  My pulse quickened, my blood pressure rising just at the sound of my sister’s name. Every morning Amelia called me, and it always ended with her hanging up. “I already argued with her this morning. I have nothing else to say.”

  “She said she’s going to elope if you don’t give her your blessing. I really don’t want her to do that. Can you make things right?” Mom’s voice shook, like she was nervous. Amelia had probably put her up to this call.

  “Me?” I yelled into the phone. A deli customer glanced my way. I stepped outside onto the sidewalk in front of the building to avoid sounding scary to the people inside. “She’s the one being unreasonable. What’s the damn rush?”

  “I know she’s young, but I was only nineteen when I married your father.”

  “That’s different,” I blurted.

  “How so?” she asked. “Dominic and Amelia are in a better financial place than we were. We had no money and we’d only known each other for a few months, but I’m sure we’d have lasted forever if it weren’t for his cancer.”

  My eyes burned with tears whenever Mom talked about Dad’s cancer. I knew how much she missed him. Isabelle and James King had been high school sweethearts. The whole town knew and loved them, and everyone mourned my father’s death. He’d barely gotten to meet Charlie when the disease took him, after a long, two-year battle. “I don’t know how it’s different. It just is.”