Chapter 10 MARLO
“Did you get the pictures back yet?”
If I could shoot daggers at my roommate from my eyes, I would.
“No.“
There’s an unopened email in my inbox. “Now stop asking me.”
Trev’s rooting around in my makeup bag again, in search of the replacement gloss he knows I have in there.
“Darlin’, I know you’re lyin’ to me,“
he drawls.
“That accent was god awful.”
He bristles with a smack of his lips, then grins wide when he finally pulls out the right tube. Next time, I’m gonna get his ass the cayenne-laced kind that discourages lip chewing, I swear. Maybe then he’d stop stealing mine.
“I am from Tennessee, y’know.”
My shoulders drop with my exhale. “You’ve also lived in Japan. Hawaii. South Carolina.”
“Aw,“
he muses, fluttering those pretty dark lashes at me, lips shining in the vanity lights. “You do listen when I talk.”
And when you scream.
But we don’t talk about the things that haunt him at night. He refuses.
“Only about every fourth word or so.”
Snatching the tube of gloss back from his thieving fingers, I smear on a thin coat and toss it back where he found it.
It’s not my normal look, not quite as brightly made up, but it’ll have to do tonight.
I just haven’t been feeling quite as vibrant, and I know it shows by the dipping of Trev’s brow when I stand. He doesn’t say anything—he doesn’t need to—as he follows close behind.
I’m just ready to be wrapped in my Snuggie, toes warming in my favorite slippers, while something trashy and entertaining plays on the TV.
Okayyy, maybe while I doom scroll on my phone, too.
The pictures I found after a simple search are too good not to stare at. He looks so sweet—innocent—and mostly happy.
They’re old, posts from before he changed his privacy settings, but I could tell by the slutty little glasses that it’s definitely my Lennix.
My never-had-a-chance-with-the-boy-next-door Lennix.
He even played hockey in high school. Hockey!
“Okay, now I know something’s fucked up.”
Rearranging my pouty frown into something that probably looks more like I ate a lemon than resembling anything remotely attractive, I meet my roommate’s sharpened gaze.
“I just—ugh.“
I slump, hands tapping my bare thighs. “I have regrets, Trev.”
He tips his head, the brim of his cowboy hat casting shadows over his face. “About the guy.”
Nodding, I blow out a long breath. “I wasted an opportunity, I think. But he was nervous! Trev, I don’t think he was—“
Dammit, I shouldn’t say that. It’s not mine to mention. “He was just so sexy.”
He stares back at me, taking long blinks, while the heavy bass surrounding us feels like a ticking timer as Trev just watches me melt down.
And when I’m done shuffling and groaning, he offers me his hand.
“I’m gonna hold your hand while I say this—”
“Ugh!”
“—just send him a fucking DM. I know you found his Insta.”
“I hate you,” I mutter.
He rolls his eyes and squeezes my fingers. “No, you don’t.”
“Stop being right. I hate it.”