Chapter Twenty-Two - Alex
I don’t like you. I smile when I see you.
But I don’t want to never see you again.
I look just like you. In the mirror, there’s you.
Stop driving me crazy.
Me Desculpa Jay Z - Baco Exu do Blues
I must be an idiot.
I come to this conclusion while putting the dishes in the dishwasher, and A.J. groans loudly.
It has to be a joke.
I go years without getting close to anyone – I mean, really close, even just making a new friend – and when I finally do, I end up stuck in a situation like this.
Not to mention him opening the door in boxers, and her acting all… all over him.
Haha, you slept badly.
Oh, you couldn’t last two hours.
Well, if he keeps moaning and groaning like that, I hope it’s over soon anyway.
And to think I talked to him about Mom.
Ugh, I hate that.
I wish I could go back and be one of those shallow people, with meaningless conversations and social media profiles that he can't connect with.
I put the soap in the dishwasher and select the quick cycle. After that, I wipe down the sink and, even though I want to clean the island too, I decide to go pack my bag instead — mostly to avoid listening to whatever circus is going on out there.
Perfect timing to have said I wanted to do something with him today. All because I was feeling grateful to have someone. But what’s the point of having someone if my person is out there sticking his dick in everything that moves?
Not that that’s a problem.
I’d just rather not hear it.
I take a deep breath and step into my room, slamming the door behind me to drown out yet another groan — and God help me if I ever find out what kind of sex they’re having.
I toss a large backpack onto the bed and start with the essentials: underwear goes into a toiletry bag first — because priorities — and I shove it to the bottom.
Then I pick out four outfits: turtlenecks with either jeans or light pants, plus two pairs of thermal leggings to wear underneath and some seriously thick socks.
I roll everything by outfit and pack it, relieved to notice the moaning has finally stopped.
One outfit per day, and an extra just in case.
I head to the bathroom to grab my hair and hygiene products. I even think about packing a shirt or dress for the show, but I wear the standard backing vocal outfit now, so I let it go. Whatever they hand me in the dressing room will do.
I finish up with two sets of pajamas — and that’s when A.J. lets out a shout that startles me, followed by the girl’s laughter.
What the hell?
That’s it. I’m done.
I open the door and shout:
“Alexa, volume max. Alexa, play Baby Shark!”
I slam the door shut again, just as I remember I still need to grab makeup.
If I keep remembering something every two minutes, this backpack won’t cut it.
I scan the cute, girly details in the room — the ones we picked out together — and head to the first closet door where I left my carry-on suitcase.
I start transferring everything from the backpack. Considering I still need to pack shoes, switching bags was definitely the right call. I go back to the closet for a pair of heels and some sandals, since I’ll be traveling in sneakers.
Suddenly, the music cuts off.
And someone — obviously A.J. — pounds on my door.
I take a deep breath and head toward it, reason fully on my side.
“What?”
I cross my arms, and A.J. raises his eyebrows with an incredulous laugh.
“I think that question’s mine…”
He’s mad — really mad — but he doesn’t yell.
With one hand resting on the doorframe, his bicep looks even more defined. His chest rises and falls with tense breathing, and even now, he doesn’t bother putting on clothes.
“Nothing,” I whisper, forcing myself to look back at his face, framed by a samurai bun that would make me drool — if I didn’t prefer to die than admit he looks ridiculously hot in that stupid hair and underwear combo.
“Nothing?” His eyes widen, and he takes an involuntary step back. “You kicked Brittany out and caused all that drama for nothing?”
“That’s right, A.J. I just really felt like blasting music.”
“Baby Shark? You felt like blasting Baby Shark ?”
“Look, A—”
“No, you look ! ” he cuts me off, his voice low and rough, but laced with irritation. “I barely slept last night, worrying about what might’ve happened to you out there. I was going insane, and I needed to unwind after everything.”
And now this is my fault.
“A.J., I’m from Rio. Born and raised in the North Zone,” I snap. I’m not about to let him blame my outing for his shameless behavior.
“If someone tries to rob me in New York, I’ll be the one going home with their stuff and tossing them into the Hudson. Wake up.”
He’s still calm.
I’m the one yelling now.
“I know I’m here as a favor, but it would’ve been nice if you’d warned me about your… guest. That way, I would’ve gone out instead of staying here listening to you moaning and grunting like a—”
I don’t finish the sentence.
Because he moves.
A.J. tilts his neck to the side and swallows hard, and the movement of his Adam’s apple throws me for a second. Then his tongue slides slowly across his bottom lip. And just like that, my lungs forget how to work.
He lowers his hand from the doorframe and takes a step forward.
Which makes me step back.
“So you didn’t like seeing me with another girl and decided to kick her out?”
His voice is low, hoarse, and laced with a dangerous kind of amusement. But he doesn’t stop. He keeps coming — all sculpted chest and strong arms towards me — closing the space between us.
“That’s not exactly what happened. You were making too much noise. It was... distracting.”
“Hearing me moaning with another woman made you so annoyed that you picked the most mood-killing song in the world just to make us stop?” he asks, voice low, eyes darkening as his breath grows heavier.
I don’t reply and A.J. takes two more steps, and every cell in my body lights up in alarm under his darkened gaze as I instinctively step back.
He’s never acted like that.
Never looked at me with such fire.
And I’ve definitely never felt anything like this. Despite all our teasing, there’s never been this tight knot in my stomach or this hot, buzzing sensation climbing up my skin.
“It wasn’t the most mood-killing. I was going to ask Alexa to play I’m still counting my Blessings . You two got lucky,” I joke, trying to clear the haze that this two-meter-tall man in nothing but underwear has brought into my bedroom.
But A.J. doesn’t laugh.
Instead, his hand lands on my waist and pulls me toward him — effortlessly. My body crashes into his, and a shiver runs down my spine at the heat of his bare skin against mine.
With his free hand, he pushes the desk chair aside. I try to step back again, but he boxes me in, the edge of the chair now pressing against the back of my thighs.
His heavy breathing fans across my face, and my mouth goes dry as he leans over me.
“You didn’t let me sleep, and you ruined my quality time… What am I supposed to do with you, Alexandra ?”
He says my name for the first time in ages, and the deep whisper glides over my skin like silk.
“Maybe let me finish packing. Have you packed yours?” I look away, pretending to glance at the suitcase sitting on the bed behind him.
But A.J.'s hand moves to my face, brushing aside the curls framing it. His fingers trail to the nape of my neck, and the warmth of his palm on my sensitive skin sends another wave of chills down my spine as he gently forces me to look at him.
Instinctively, my hands press against his chest — meant to push him away. But the heat and firmness of his skin make me hesitate.
“Didn’t anyone ever tell you it’s rude not to look someone in the eye when they’re talking to you?”
I shake my head slowly, barely able to form a thought.
“Because it is,” he goes on, his eyes studying me like they’re undressing me, his fingers still playing with my hair.
“I hate talking to you when your face is hidden.”
A.J. gathers my curls with practiced ease, pulling them into a messy bun on top of my head.
My breath catches in my throat as I feel the gentle tug.
He’s not just touching my hair.
He’s showing off .
He’s trying to turn me on.
And it’s definitely working.
“I’ll make a note that you don’t want other girls here.”
He crosses his arms but doesn’t step back. I, on the other hand, sit down at the desk to put some space between us.
“I never said that.”
My voice comes out firmer than I expected.
“It’s fine. I’ll just make it clear that my roommate is jealous.”
“Don’t be ridiculous!” I snap, cheeks burning. “I was just annoyed by the noise. I don’t care who you sleep with or don’t sleep with.”
A.J. turns toward the door but stops at the last second, spinning slowly with a lazy, wicked smile playing on his lips.
“Empty words from someone who was melting in my arms just a few seconds ago.”
The disaster of my day opens the door — but not without throwing one last burning look at me before walking out.
“Go change your panties and meet me in the living room, Alexandra. We’ve got that afternoon together today.”
My skin tingles at the way his deep voice slips into my ears, sending shivers down my spine. My muscles tense, and my legs press tightly together in an involuntary reflex.
“I’m going to kill y—”
The bastard shuts the door, and I close my eyes, letting out a long breath.
Mortified.
And actually needing to change that damn panties.
***
The three knocks on the door just make me sigh and cover my face with the pillow.
“Alex, lunch is on the table,” A.J. calls from the other side, using his good guy voice. Like he wasn’t... a jerk to me.
The urge to punch that beautiful face still hasn’t left me.
“I’m not hungry.”
“Then let’s go on a hunger strike together.” I see his shadow leaning against the door and scream into the pillow.
A.J. asks Alexa for a song in Portuguese, one that she’s already seen me listen to several times, and I keep ignoring him. However, when Caju by Liniker finishes, he asks for another one, Wave by Tom Jobim, and I realize this pest isn’t going to leave me alone.
I get up, almost tripping over the suitcase thrown on the floor, and go to the door. A.J., now dressed, almost falls on top of me when I open it, but I push past him, walking down the hall and telling Alexa to shut up.
“Alex?” He runs after me.
“You were a jerk!”
“I was just kidding.” A.J. catches up to me and stops in front of me, blocking the way. “And I didn’t have sex with her, okay?”
I cross my arms, narrowing my eyes.
“I don’t care,” I retort as if it were true. But I can’t stop thinking about what they were doing with all that noise. “I just didn’t like how you talked to me afterward.”
“Okay. Sorry. Really.” He rubs the back of his neck, looking away.
“I’ve never had a girlfriend. Let alone one as feisty as you, who would turn up the house’s volume to kick another woman out.
So... I didn’t exactly know how to react to your jealousy,” he jokes, but I notice a hint of truth in it, and my stomach drops.
“I wasn’t jealous, Anthony!”
“And I was just trying to lighten the mood... I didn’t imagine it would affect you this much.”
“You don’t affect me,” I retort as if it were true.
He crosses his arms, raises an eyebrow, and opens his mouth to say something.
But he closes it and blinks twice.
“Forget it,” A.J. says, extending his right hand to me.
His now calm look and his hair tied in a low ponytail make me wonder if I should accept his hand.
“Let’s eat and enjoy our afternoon. I don’t like this weird vibe.
” The end of his sentence comes out in a broken, almost whispered voice, and I decide to end this conversation here.
“Honestly?” I give him my hand. “I don’t like it either.”
“And I think it’s better if you don’t leave without me, at least at night,” he comments in a pathetic request, but I’m also open to negotiations here. “Just to avoid me getting anxious and calling Britt... Ow!” he complains when I squeeze his hand in mine.
“And I really don’t want you bringing other girls here, or boys,” I say firmly, leaving no room for objections.
“Like, never again?” He pretends to be offended.
“Like, while I’m here,” I reply, turning him by the shoulders and pushing him toward the kitchen where the table is already set.
We walk as if nothing happened. And maybe it’s better this way, just thankful that things are always easy with him. Maybe it’s better to pretend I didn’t freeze when he pinned me to the desk. Pretend my body didn’t light up with his touch.
Maybe it’s better not to think.