Chapter 1 #2
My eyes turn to his unmade bed, the sheets mismatched, the pillowcase on halfway.
My fingers flex near my sides, and I’m unable to stop myself.
I walk across the room and rearrange it all.
By the time I step back, the sheets are folded neatly, the pillowcase is put on properly, and I may have even folded some clothes he had discarded sloppily on the end of the bed.
I really shouldn’t do this. He’ll get used to it.
He’ll expect it. I’ll end up a maid on top of a roommate, but fuck, he’s messy.
So opposite of me.
The door to the apartment opens, and I panic slightly. Without thinking, I launch into my bed, grabbing a magazine from the dresser and pulling it up to my face. Caleb is humming under his breath, slightly off-key, as he walks into the bathroom and slams the door.
I lower the magazine slightly and listen to him pee, half-singing the entire time, and then a moment later, the sink turns on. Thank fuck he’s washing his hands, I think as the door opens and Caleb appears in the bedroom.
I peer up at him, seeing him all sweaty, his hair a mess.
He looks like he just rolled out of a long, dirty fuck.
I swallow, the paper crumpling under my fingers.
“You into four-wheeling, too?” he asks as he sits down on his bed, the movement making some of the clothes I folded flop to the side.
I glance at the magazine I’m holding and feel my cheeks heat.
“No, I was just interested in what this was.”
Lies, I tell myself. I had no idea what I was holding until he mentioned it. I was too busy ogling my new roommate, like a sculpture in a museum, trying to make sense of all the angles and shapes before me.
“Yeah, well, you’re welcome to any of my shit. What’s mine is yours.”
He sniffs his armpit and then chuckles. “Yeah. That’s bad. Gonna go shower now.”
He stands up and grabs a pair of boxers from his drawer before moving toward the bathroom. I let out a long exhale when I hear the door shut.
Only boxers.
With a body like that.
I let out a soft groan and lay the magazine right over my face. It’s going to be a long, uncomfortable night.
I’m so fucked.
“Why do you look so terrible?” asks my friend and occasional fuck buddy. He’s found me in the library, tucked away in the back corner. I’m in hiding. Like a nun, lest I sin.
I peer up at him through my eyelashes and sigh.
“Thanks. That’s reassuring.” He grins down at me, and I add, “Just roommate trouble.”
“Oh, do tell,” Magnus says, lowering himself next to me. It’s a wonder he can even sit in those skinny jeans. I swear I hear them squeaking as he moves. “Is he terrible? Gods, I totally get that, if so.”
He reaches out and gently touches my leg.
I stare at his hand on me, but I don’t move it away. I should be okay with him touching me. I mean, I’ve been inside him—several times—but still. It feels weird for some reason.
Everything seems a little cluttered at the moment. Unkempt and unorganized.
It’s unsettling. I don’t like it.
“He’s alright, just new. And you know I don’t do well with new.”
“You sure don’t.” His fingers curl against my leg, and then he moves his hand away. I can breathe a little easier now. “What’s he like?”
“Big” is all I can say. He seems to suck the air from each room he’s in. At night, I twist and turn, trying to regulate my breathing, but end up panting like a runner in a race. And I don’t run. Ever.
I’m tired and irritable. My studies are suffering from it.
They shouldn’t be with how much time I spend in the library these days. And when I am home, my Kindle is my protection—a good reason not to look at him.
But fuck, sometimes all I do is look at him. Think about him.
I really cannot be thinking about him.
“Do you want to grab a coffee? Maybe something to eat? Have you eaten yet today? Jesus, I know how you can get sometimes.”
I peer over at my friend and sigh. He must see my expression because he rolls his eyes. “I’ll take the silence as a no. Come on. Let’s go. My treat.”
He hops up, much too nimble for those tight pants, and holds out his hand. I shouldn’t go with him. It’s much safer in here. What if I see Caleb out in the wild? I don’t know what I’d do then.
But my hand slips into his, and he squeezes it before letting it go.
“Come on. The coffee cart near the gym has the best burritos. You’ll love it. Their coffee is good, too. They have a new drink. Can’t pronounce it, but it’s delicious.”
I hesitate for a moment. The gym? I shouldn’t.
I really should not, but I let him lead me there anyway, his mouth chattering as we walk. He tells me all about a class he has where the professor is being an asshole, and I half-listen as we walk past the gym. It has wide, open windows, and I can see all the people inside, gorgeous and gleaming.
I hate it.
The way it must smell in there.
Though, Caleb doesn’t seem to smell that bad when he comes back from the gym. The few times he told me he’d just come from there, the scent that he left behind was soap and pine.
My tongue swipes across my dry lips as I let my eyes drift to the side. Not looking for him, just curious.
That’s all.
I’m curious how these people enjoy working out, sharing spit and sweat. And germs.
“Oh yes, a cortado. That’s the name of the drink,” Magnus says as we stop to wait in the line near the coffee cart.
I nod. “You can order me whatever you think I’d like.”
He shifts on his feet and peers up at me. “Cool, yeah, I can do that.”
My eyes move away from him and back to those large windows. In the corner, I see Caleb. He’s lifting his shirt and wiping the sweat from his forehead. I know those abs, that chest. He shows them to me every chance he can.
I swallow as I fist my hands at my sides, feeling something bunch near the base of my spine.
“I guess it’s a Spanish drink,” Magnus interjects my thoughts, pulling my gaze back toward him. “Not sure how it’s different from a latte, but I swear it tastes better.”
I nod again as we move up the queue. My attention drifts back to the gym where Caleb is laughing with someone, all while doing bicep curls.
I only know what those are because I looked it up.
He was doing them in the apartment one day. Right in the middle of the living room. He wasn’t using a weight, but an oversized bottle of laundry detergent.
I just wanted to know how he got such large muscles, and here we are.
I might have done a deep dive.
Caleb taps a guy on the butt and then grabs two larger free weights and bends forward, showing me his ass.
Well, not showing me, but still. Everyone who walks by can see it as he bends forward and continues to work out his arms.
It’s indecent.
“What you lookin’ at?” Magnus asks, peering around me to see what I was staring at. “Oh, the gym. I know. Big, hot dudes in there. All sweaty and grunty…”
He waggles his eyebrows, and I scoff.
“Not that you’re into those neanderthals, right?” he asks, suddenly looking a little worried. We’re not a thing, never have been, and never will be, but we are a constant in each other’s lives.
Or have been for a while now.
Not sure about that anymore, though.
“Yeah, not my type. Just got distracted, is all.”
“Yeah,” he murmurs, and then we step up to the coffee cart, and he orders for the two of us. And while he does it, if my eyes wander to the large window and settle on Caleb once more, it’s nothing more than curiosity.
I make it back to the apartment that afternoon, my stomach upset. Not from the coffee and the wrap I ate, but from knowing that Caleb is going to be in the apartment and he’s going to want to talk to me.
He tends to do that. Tries to draw me into conversation. Ones that I don’t want to be a part of. Ones that make my skin a little too tight and my cheeks a little too hot.
I push the door open slowly, peering inside. I can smell him in here. Soap and pine, manly.
“Hey, Whit. Where you been, man?” Caleb asks, suddenly in my line of sight as I shut the door behind me. He’s not wearing a shirt again, and it’s making prickles of awareness spread down my spine.
“Class.”
“Nice,” he says as I step around him, holding my breath.
Why is he so large? Why did I take one look at him, slide that contract across the table, and ask him to sign it?
I’m having regrets. Huge mistake on my end.
“You ever do anything else besides go to classes and read?”
He asks this all while staring at me. I was reaching for my Kindle, for protection mainly, but I curl my fingers into my palm and ignore it. At least for a few minutes. I can try to be normal and speak to him.
“I like a lot of things,” I say, and he cocks his head at me with curiosity, scratching his chest while he does it. I turn my gaze and walk into the kitchen, filling a cup of water and staring at the wall.
He moves toward me, and I force my eyes to look at him once more.
“What kinds of things?” he says, and I sigh.
“Documentaries. Mainly about history and space. I also like going to museums when time permits.”
“Cool. I like documentaries, too. Museums not so much.” His hand slides over to his pierced nipple, and he flicks at the bar through it.
Sensation zips through my groin.
“Actually, never been to a museum. Probably boring though, you know?”
I don’t know. I think museums are exciting and fascinating. I don’t say that, though. I don’t want to invite more conversation. Because that will lead to…things I don’t even want to think about.
My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I pull it out, seeing an email I don’t want to deal with.
To be honest, I don’t have the time or privacy right now. Not when Caleb is still encroaching on my space. He’s currently leaning over the small partition in the kitchen, ass out, eyes up.
Like he’s waiting to be fucked.
I cannot think about that. I will not.
I clear my throat and then finish my cup of water, setting it in the sink. I’m loath to leave it there, but I’ll have to just wash it another time.
“You gonna ask me what I do in my free time?”
“I’m sure I can guess,” I reply, my voice a rasp.