Chapter 1 #3
“Yeah?” He stands up and grins at me, the smile lighting up his entire face. “What do you think I enjoy doing?”
He looks thrilled by this line of questioning, and I realize he’s far too social for my liking. Two complete opposites living together as roommates. Again, what the fuck was I thinking?
“Working out. Meeting new people. Not going to museums.”
He chuckles at that and then reaches out and nudges me. It makes me stumble back slightly, and our eyes meet.
“Sorry, that was a little too rough,” he murmurs when I rub at the spot his hand connected with my shoulder. “I forget some people aren’t as strong as me.”
I arch an eyebrow at him. I may not look strong, but I can manage just fine.
He rubs the back of his neck, and I turn my gaze toward the couch.
“Are we still chatting, or can I read now?” I ask when the silence looms a little too long.
“Yeah, guess you can read. Cool if I watch TV while you do it?”
I mean, no, but I don’t say that. I just nod and move to my chair, sitting down and diverting my gaze to my Kindle.
Caleb flops down on the couch, hand down his pants once more, his other gripping the remote to flip through the channels.
I try not to get distracted, but once more, my eyes peer out of the corners at him.
He’s oblivious to my staring, to my peeping.
He just grunts and groans, murmuring things to himself until I end up shutting my Kindle off completely and turning my gaze to the TV. It’s some kind of mechanic lifestyle show.
All I know is one man has an enormous beard that should probably be brushed, and the other has far too many tattoos.
“You know how to fix a car, Whit?” he asks, and I jump slightly.
“Do you think I’d know something like that?” I respond, and he grins at me.
I really need to not ask rhetorical questions. He thinks I’m trying to be cute, but really, I’m just being rude.
“Nah, I think you’d call a tow truck if something happened to your car.”
His hand leaves his pants, and he adjusts himself. “But these dudes are cool and super creative. Love what they do with the cars that people bring in. I’m not that creative.”
I turn my gaze back to the TV. I should really just do my homework in the bedroom with some earphones in my ears, but instead, I watch the entire episode with Caleb. Thankfully, he’s asleep when I finally turn to look at him. My lips roll between my teeth, and I push myself up quietly.
I only stare at him slumbering for a minute, and no longer, before I grab my computer, my Kindle, and my sanity, and make my way to the bedroom.
That was the most bonding I’ll do with Caleb. I can’t afford to be friends with him, and I’m pretty sure he’s not into men, so casual sex is off the table.
I shake my head and let out a frustrated huff.
I would never go there. Not ever.
Caleb isn’t even my type.
And common sense rule number one is never fuck your roommate.
I fall back on my bed and pull out my phone, seeing that email sitting unread in my inbox and feeling my heart twist.
Yeah, and even if he were my type and the stars somehow aligned, I just couldn’t. That’s not the way my life is supposed to go.
“So, how’s the new roommate situation going?” Kate, one of my debate partners, asks, her light brown hair pulled into a messy bun on the top of her head. When she speaks, it bobs slightly, giving me a subtle nod, like it knows the stress I’ve been under and is trying to give me some reassurance.
I glance over at Bev and see her waggling her eyebrows. I sigh loudly. I made the mistake of telling them at the last debate club meeting about my new roommate.
They had far too many questions.
I had far too many answers. They came tumbling out. One by one until I was breathless.
I regret that entire evening.
“It’s going,” I reply, feeling my chest constrict slightly.
It’s just lingering anxiety over my parents, their expectations of me, and also Caleb. The way my heart thunders in my chest every time I see him, hear him, catch a whiff of his scent.
Something is seriously wrong with me.
He’s not someone I’d ever be interested in. Not in looks or personality. The way I’m feeling makes no sense.
Bev leans toward me, her red hair even brighter in the fluorescent lighting of the library, and she nudges me with her foot.
“But we need details, Whit. ‘It’s going’ doesn’t cut it. Not after last time.”
I huff and fiddle with the edge of my laptop. “You’re both too nosy. I told you too much last time, and now you won’t let me live in peace.”
“Exactly. You knew what you were doing when you told us all about him. Now Kate and I are living for the details. We both have boring love lives. We need to live vicariously through you.”
I pull on my earlobe as I meet their eager gazes. “There’s no love involved. I barely know the guy. But what I do know is that he’s straight.”
“Sure he is,” Kate says with a roll of her eyes.
“A man like that is,” I say and then swallow, glancing away from my friends. I need to not talk about him right now. I need some space. He’s everywhere.
“He does have a lot of muscles. Show us the picture again.”
I groan as Kate lunges for my phone, but I swipe it away and place it in my pocket. I made the mistake of taking one of him while he was napping, a hand down his pants, the other one up his shirt. I should have deleted it.
It’s still on my phone.
“No. I deleted it.”
“Like hell you did,” Bev replies and then opens her hand, wiggling her fingers. As if I’d place my phone in her palm and let her scroll through my pictures.
Absolutely not.
“Go away,” I murmur, and she grins at me, her freckled nose scrunching up adorably.
“I will when you give us something good. You can’t say things like ‘he has a nipple piercing and walks around in just his boxers’ and then say nothing else. We’re invested in this.”
“Bev’s right. This is like a romance novel.”
I sigh and then bite my lip, trying to think of something appropriate to tell them so they’ll leave me alone.
I can’t tell them I heard him jacking off in the shower last night.
He thought I was asleep when he got home, but I heard the moan he gave, the sound of it echoing through the wall and right into my dick.
And I definitely can’t tell them I had a wet dream right after.
The shame that filled me when I woke up in my own mess.
I felt like a fucking teenager all over again.
“I really don’t know much about him. He’s gone often, and the times he’s home, he does his own thing. All I know is what I can see.”
“And you see a lot, apparently.”
I roll my eyes, and Bev and Kate giggle like middle-schoolers. So immature.
“You should invite us over. Let us get the lay of the land.”
“Absolutely not. You will never meet him.”
They let out a collective moan, and I shake my head, forcing my mind away from Caleb and back to the task at hand.
“We need to focus. I have to get to class after this.”
They sigh, knowing I’m right, and we get to work, going over the debate topic for the week and then prepping for it.
By the time we’re done, I’m left to rush to class. As I move through campus, my fingers fumble with my phone. I try not to use it often, mainly because I hate what awaits me when I open it.
And just like I thought, a message from my father sits there. Looming.
jigodie de tat?:
You’ve not responded to the email that was sent to you. I expect you to do so by tonight.
I step to the side of the walkway, my thumbs hovering over the screen, and let out a long breath.
Right. I do need to address that, but I don’t want to. I want to bury my head in the sand and pretend I’m living a different life. That I’m allowed to be who I am, to be loved for just me.
But my father isn’t a nice man, and I know what he expects of me.
What he expects me to be.
There’s an itch beneath my skin, and I scratch at my wrist, trying to calm the dread that’s always waiting just below the surface. Some days, the dread wins.
Not recently, but in the past, it has many times.
I don’t want to be that person anymore.
Me:
I’ll get to it tonight.
He doesn’t respond—not that I expected him to—and I stuff my phone in my pocket and jog the rest of the way to class. I’ll deal with it later.
Everything can be dealt with later.