Chapter 13 A Questionable Roommate
a questionable roommate
RILEY
The scent of vanilla and the sound of the sizzling pan do a surprisingly good job of grounding me. While I whisk the batter, I think back on the fire, my mind calmer. Then, I pack all the confusion being around Hayden brings me into a box and shove it into the recesses of my brain.
Hade stepped up yesterday, and damn if that didn’t make my chest swell with gratitude despite my anger. Even after the vibrator disaster, the atmosphere between us wasn’t uncomfortable or awkward.
This morning, I couldn’t resist the temptation to make pancakes. Not to try to impress him or anything, but simply because I like cooking. Plus, I’m grateful to him for offering me a place to stay.
My phone lights up with a text, and I take it from the counter.
Nastya:
How was your first night at his place?
Me:
You couldn’t wait to ask until you see me later?
Nastya:
Нет
I laugh quietly. She’s impossible. At least this is a Russian word I know. She taught me “yes” and “no” early on in our friendship, along with “thank you” and “fuck you.” A really good combination, if you ask me.
Me:
It was fine. We watched Arcane together then went to bed
Nastya:
Together ?
Me:
Нет
Nastya:
Nastya:
So you had a very boring and uneventful evening, is that right?
Me:
Not exactly.
I set my phone down and pour batter into the pan.
Nastya:
*Jennifer Lawrence what do you mean gif*
Me:
He tried to help me unpack and found my vibrator. Then, some woman called him.
Nastya:
Mm, spicy for the first one. Meh for the second.
Me:
Spicy? I was ready for the floor to swallow me. As for the second one, I disagree. It will be easier to forget about him if he’s taken.
Nastya:
Ladies and gentlemen, it’s time to board your flight to Delulu Land. Please take your seats.
Huffing, I flip the pancake. For the first time in years, I’m really considering giving up my crush on Hayden. Why can’t she just support me?
Me:
I don’t need a flight. I need a new best friend.
Nastya:
Take that back or else.
A quiet snort escapes my lips, and I shake my head. I love her too much to give up on our friendship.
Me:
See you at 10.
As I wait for the next pancake to cook, I survey the spotless kitchen.
The cabinets and the breakfast bar are white, contrasting against the dark gray countertops and mahogany floors.
It’s gorgeous, really, but the room feels so empty.
Bottom lip caught between my teeth, I consider the breakfast bar, imagining a bouquet of forget-me-nots with some white roses on it.
Would Hayden mind if I brought some back with me this afternoon?
Maybe I should pick up groceries too. It’s a miracle I found everything I needed for the pancakes.
Goodness. I shake the thought from my mind. This is a temporary arrangement, nothing more. Why would I stock up on food or decorate?
Just as I’m adding the final pancake to the stack, Hayden shuffles in, one hand pressed to his mouth, yawning. When he notices me, he freezes.
His black sweatpants hang low on his hips, and the damn man is shirtless again.
His neck, his chest, and his arms are covered in tattoos, but they’re no substitute for a T-shirt.
No, they’re temptations. It’s nearly impossible not to study them.
His bleached hair is a mess, sticking out in every direction, as if he tossed and turned all night.
Only after I’ve looked at him for way too long do I realize he’s cataloging me in a similar way.
My cheeks heat as he takes in my messy bun, my loose black tee, and my black sleep shorts.
When his eyes drop to my legs, he stiffens and forces his focus back to my face, like he finally realizes what he’s doing.
“Good morning.” I keep my tone light, pretending I didn’t just catch him checking me out. “I didn’t think you’d be up so early.”
He scratches the back of his neck. “You really think I could sleep when the place smells this good?”
He moves closer, though he stops again abruptly. It’s strange to see him so out of his element, but I’m enjoying it.
“Don’t just stand here,” I say. “Sit down.”
“Thanks.” He drops onto a barstool and sighs, resting his elbows on the counter.
I plate four pancakes and set them in front of him. “I couldn’t find syrup or even Nutella, so we’ll have to make do with cherry jam.”
“I have cherry jam?” he asks, eyebrows raised.
“Um, yeah.” I pluck the jar off the counter near the stove. “Want some? And how about coffee?”
For a moment, he studies me, his expression thoughtful and maybe a little confused. “That’d be great. Thank you so much, Ry.”
I sit across from him while we eat, the two of us only speaking here and there.
Mostly, he muses about how delicious the pancakes are.
Each time, traitorous butterflies come to life in my stomach.
It’s not the first time we’ve eaten together—I bring food from time to time when I check on him, worried he isn’t eating—but it’s the first time we’ve dined together, just the two of us, out of choice rather than necessity.
Between bites, he asks, “What’s your plan today?”
“My first class is at eleven.” I take a sip of my coffee. “And I think I found a company to do a deep smoke-removal treatment at my place, so I’m meeting with them after work.”
“Good. And remember—you can stay here for as long as you need.”
“Thank you. I’ll ask about a timeline. Hopefully, I can move back in before I go to Cali.”
“You’re going home?”
“Yup.” Before I can think the suggestion through, I say, “Why don’t you come with me? I’m sure your parents would love to see you. Piper and Hunter too. And you know how much Story and Hudson love their Uncle Hayden.”
He shakes his head and looks away. “No. Not now. They will see right through me, and I don’t want to worry them any more than I already have. I need some more time.”
Frustration and disappointment battle for dominance inside me. Being home, surrounded by the people who love him, could be healing. Their support might be what he needs to work through his grief.
As much as I want to tell him that, I know better. He won’t listen to me.
“I get it.” I nod. “At least that means I’ll get more time with the kids.”
“They’ll be just as happy to see you.” His eyes soften. “Story says you’re her role model. She wants to be just like her Aunt Riley.”
“She’ll be so much better than me. She’s so determined and disciplined.”
He leans forward. “What made you quit ballet?”
That simple question makes my hands go clammy, my heart ready to jump out of my chest. “It’s a long story.”
“I have time.”
Nastya is the only person I’ve opened up to about my reasons, and even she doesn’t know everything. I’d prefer to keep it that way.
“Hade, leave it, okay?” I grip my mug tighter.
“For now,” he says, his mouth tugged down in a frown.
Annoyance brews in my chest, making me fidgety. I clear my throat. “What are your plans for today?”
He bows his head, focuses on his plate. “Got somewhere I need to be.”
The change in his demeanor makes my stomach sink. It’s like his body has shrunk in on itself. Even his voice seems more distant, as if this is the one topic he’d rather not get into. But after the way he pushed me about ballet, I’m itching to push back.
“Does this have anything to do with the woman who called you yesterday?”
Head snapping up, he sucks in a harsh breath. “It has nothing to do with you.”
I shrug, acting more nonchalant than I feel. “If she’s your girlfriend—”
“She’s not my girlfriend.” He takes a deep breath. “She’s Owen’s widow, Ines.”
My heart squeezes painfully. All I can muster is an “Oh.”
“I help her with anything I can, and I visit pretty regularly, keep them company.” He finally looks up, his irises the color of a forest at night, dark and mysterious. “She and Santi don’t have anyone else.”
“Santi?”
“Owen’s son. He’s almost three.”
Tears sting the backs of my eyes as his words sink in. The pain in his voice makes my heart hurt. “I’m so sorry,” I say, covering his hand with mine. “I shouldn’t have pushed you to talk about it.”
He flashes me a small, sad smile. “That’s okay. I don’t know why I haven’t told anyone I’m helping her.”
“Maybe for the same reason you don’t want your family to see you grieving.”
“Maybe.” He nods. “When did you become so observant?”
I shrug. “Always been this way.”
He pins me with a look. “Ry baby, now you’re bragging. Didn’t take you for an arrogant type.”
“And you’re a questionable roommate.”
His brows jump to his hairline, his mouth forming a little O.
“What?” I tease. “I thought we were stating the obvious.”
A slow grin spreads across his face. It’s sinful how handsome he looks. “If we’re stating the obvious, I’ll point out just how obsessed you are with Arcane. Now I know why you went with blue highlights.”
Warmth courses through my veins. This man noticed a detail no one else has. Without looking away, hoping he can’t tell how flustered I am, I shrug. “Yes, and they look great on me.”
He leans back. His gaze on me is intense, his biceps bulging as he crosses his arms. “They do. They make your blue eyes pop. Let me guess—Powder is your favorite. The little sister, just like you.”
Rather than feel annoyed about being called the little sister again, I’m practically giddy. Another detail he’s noticed. “Yes and no at the same time.”
“What do you mean?”
“You’ll get it once you’ve seen a few more episodes.”
He straightens and picks up his coffee. “Perfect,” he says. Then, his tone turns serious, almost concerned. “Do you have plans tonight?”
My heart thuds against my breastbone. No, he isn’t asking me out on a date, but my body sure thinks he is. “Erm, not really.”
“Great.” He bows his head, but not before I catch the relief on his face.
My stomach swoops in response.
Fuck this attraction. I’m hopeless when it comes to him.
Eager to put a little distance between us, I stand. “I better get ready. Don’t want to show up to the studio in sleep shorts and cause a scandal.”
I scoop up my plate and mug and carry them to the sink. As I cross the kitchen, his eyes on me feel like a heavy weight. Not in a bad way; it’s just hard to ignore.
“I can imagine some of the moms making a stink. Your legs look endless in those shorts.”
My heart skips a beat, halting me in my tracks. He didn’t just say that, did he?
Unable to look back at him for fear I’ll discover I’m hallucinating, I scurry to the doorway. “Thanks.”
“Ry?”
Sighing, I turn back. Instantly, I find myself drowning in his green eyes.
“Thank you for breakfast. I really appreciate it,” he says softly.
“Anytime.”
With that, I head to my room, willing myself not to read into any of this.