10. Ari
ten
Ari
With my Kindle on my lap, I sink back against the sofa cushions and tap the screen to flip the page.
This book has me sucked in right now. I had no idea cowboys could be this hot.
I was so wrong.
Yee fucking haw.
My mind wanders a bit, wondering how much I’d enjoy some ropes in the bedroom. I don’t need to be lassoed, but I’d be A-okay getting tied up.
As I make a mental note to do some research on that, my front door opens. I quickly hide my Kindle under a throw pillow as Lucia walks inside.
“Hey,” I say as I watch her grab a water from the fridge before slamming the door shut. “What the hell was that for?”
Lucia rolls her eyes. “I’m not in the mood, Ari.”
I cock my eyebrow. “Are you usually?”
“Can you fucking not?” she scoffs. “I don’t want to deal with your shit.”
I take a deep breath. “Did something happen while you were out with the girls?”
“Don’t act like you care,” she bites before taking a swig of her water.
“Jesus fucking Christ,” I mutter, pinching the bridge of my nose. “I’m trying to be amicable, Lucia. I’d rather we not constantly be going at each other if we’re fucking living together.”
Lucia sighs and leans back against the counter. “It’s nothing I really want to talk about.” She finally takes her purse off her shoulder and hangs it on the hook by the door before starting off down the hallway, saying, “I’m just going to the gym for a while,” and disappearing.
I scrub a hand down my face and pull out my phone, shooting off a text.
Ari
I’ve been back for a day, and I’m ready to move out already
Cole
Wow, that’s not dramatic at all
Ari
I have a flair for the dramatics
Cole
Well fucking aware of that
Why do you want to move out already?
Ari
Because I feel like Lucia is constantly pissed at me
She still can’t be nice
Cole
You knew that about her before she moved in, man
How did you not expect that?
Ari
I did
But I sure as hell didn’t expect to hear her get herself off last night
Cole
Like you’ve never heard someone masturbate before
Ari
Not in my own fucking house
Cole
Better keep your headphones nearby, then
Ari
Shit
Why didn’t I think about headphones?
Cole
Wait
You sat there and actually listened to her?
Ari
I was in shock at how thin my goddamn walls are
Cole
And you listened to the woman you “can’t stand” get herself off in your house
Ari
I didn’t choose to hear it
Cole
You didn’t put on headphones, so I disagree
Now tell me again how much you don’t want her
Ari
Fuck off, Pierce
I toss my phone down the sofa and smother myself with a throw pillow. I don’t know why I expected that conversation to go any differently.
Maybe Cole’s right, though. Maybe I should keep my headphones nearby because I doubt Lucia is going to stop.
Or I could just lis—
Fuck my fucking brain.
I do not need to listen to Lucia have another fucking orgasm.
Once was more than enough.
Too much, really.
Even if it was hot as fucking hell.
Jesus, Ari.
Get a fucking grip.
And not of your dick.
Grip something else.
I quickly stand up, determined to not let myself free-fall into insanity, and head straight into my kitchen.
Cooking always helps me clear my head. My mom started teaching me to cook before she and my dad divorced, but I didn’t stick with it.
According to Tom Morgan, “Boys don’t cook.
” And since I rarely saw my mom after we moved to the US because summers were for baseball, I didn’t have anyone to teach me.
I didn’t start trying again until my freshman year of college. I hadn’t seen my mom in years, so I headed to Korea for Christmas break instead of Conservative Hell, Texas.
That decision is one of the best I’ve ever made. I hadn’t realized how miserable I’d been without my mom. We spent those weeks cooking and getting to know each other better, and we’ve had a great relationship ever since.
Now, we cook together every time I make it back to Seoul.
And while I’m back in New York, cooking helps me feel closer to her.
I know I’ve only been back for a day, but I’m missing my mom, so I decide I’ll make our favorite dish: bibimbap.
I take my time getting everything ready. Rice, spinach, bean sprouts, carrots, tofu, egg, sesame oil, sesame seeds, and plenty of gochujang. I load the dishwasher and clean up the mess once I’m finished before dishing out a couple of servings.
“What is that?” Lucia asks, walking into the kitchen.
I glance up at her before quickly looking away. I always knew she was attractive, but I’m just now realizing how attracted I am to her.
She must have taken a shower after the gym because her hair is still wet, drenching the shoulders of her entirely too- tight black T-shirt. The one she’s wearing without a bra. I know because I can see how hard her nipples are through the fabric, and the fuckboy in me wants to reach out and touch.
The moral compass in me reminds me I’d never do that without explicit consent, which I’m certainly not going to get from Lucia Torres.
I shake the thought from my mind. “Bibimbap,” I reply, finally answering her question.
“I don’t know what that is.”
“Korean rice dish. My mom’s and my favorite.”
Lucia strides over to the island, inhaling the scent as she does. “I had no idea you could cook.”
I shrug. “Started learning as a kid. My mom taught me. I really only know how to cook Korean food.”
“It smells good,” she says before walking over to the pantry and grabbing a granola bar.
“I didn’t cook this for just myself,” I admit. “There’s enough for both of us.”
Lucia looks at me in surprise. “You cooked for me?”
“Not for you,” I reply quickly. “I just felt like cooking. I wasn’t going to be rude and only cook for myself when I have a roommate. You’re welcome to try some.”
She smiles softly before replacing her granola bar and taking a seat at the kitchen island. “Thank you, Ari.”
I push her plate toward her and grab a fork and a set of chopsticks from the drawer. She opts for the chopsticks as I grab my own and take a bite.
Once Lucia brings her chopsticks to her mouth and eats, her eyes widen as she covers her mouth. “Shit, that’s spicy. Why is it so spicy?”
I grab a bottle of water from the fridge and slide it across the countertop to her. “Gochujang.”
“What the hell is that?” she pants, downing half of her water in one gulp.
“Red pepper paste. You’re Spanish, though, so I kinda assumed you liked spicy foods.”
“Yes, Spanish,” she states, breathing less heavily now. “Not Mexican. Spaniards don’t eat much spicy food. I may have grown up in San Diego, but I ate my parents’ cooking far more than I ate any Mexican food.”
“Sorry,” I say sheepishly, rubbing the back of my neck. “I didn’t realize that.”
“It’s fine,” Lucia shrugs. “It’s really good, but I think I’ll need about a gallon of water before I can finish it.”
I throw my head back and laugh heartily. “Then you’re in luck because we have plenty of water, Spitfire.”
“I might actually start spitting fire soon,” she jokes, and it only causes me to laugh harder.
Shit, I didn’t realize Lucia could be funny.
I also didn’t realize I could make her smile.
It’s a small step, but it does show me that we could get along if we tried.
Maybe her living here doesn’t have to be so bad after all.