Chapter 3 #2
She smiles encouragingly. “That sounds right up my alley. I would love to read it when you’re done.”
“If I ever finish. I’m struggling with the last act.”
“That’s why I could never be a novelist. There are too many plot points to keep track of. I’m happy to stick to journalism for now,” she says, tearing a piece of the croissant off and pops it into her mouth.
“Are you working on anything at the moment?”
She nods. “I’m doing a piece on the hockey team for the student newspaper. My boyfriend is on the team, so it seemed like a good way to spend some extra time with him. Plus, I just love the sport. It never gets boring to watch.”
“I’ve never been to a hockey game before,” I admit.
“You should come next time,” she tells me, just as the bell above the door chimes and a cool gust of air filters in.
I don’t recognize him at first, with the beanie blocking out most of his features. But when he swipes it off with one hand I realize that I’m staring at the guy from last night. My new roommate.
He’s bundled up in a black puffer jacket, cheeks flushed from the cold outside and a pair of dark washed jeans hiding what I know are thick muscled thighs.
He directs a dazzling smile at the girl behind the counter, before leaning his elbows against it and murmuring something that makes her flush the same color as her apron.
I roll my eyes. Of course.
“Are you okay?” Vanessa asks, drawing my attention back to her. I reach for the last bite of the cookie, careful to keep my gaze from sliding over to the asshole by the counter. I don’t quite succeed.
“Yeah, why wouldn’t I be?” It comes out breathier than I want it to, but she doesn’t seem to notice. Instead, she starts telling me about a boutique downtown that we need to visit before all the sales are over.
Out of the corner of my eyes, I watch my new roommate straighten. He grabs his takeaway coffee off the counter and winks at the poor girl who looks like she might turn into a puddle at any moment now. How anyone could melt in his presence is beyond me.
My eyes drop to our table when he turns to head for the door, and I think I might be in the clear, but heavy footsteps come to a halt at the end of our table and I know I’m caught.
Shit.
My eyes trail up over his jeans, biding my time until I’m faced with what I just know will be a smug smirk. He’s got one hand in the pocket of his jacket, the other wrapped around his cup, and he’s staring down at me with—what do you know—a shit-eating grin.
“It’s you,” he says, eyes full of mischief.
Vanessa’s head swings between us. “Do you know each other?”
“No, we don’t,” I’m quick to say. It only makes his infuriating expression deepen.
He wiggles his brows suggestively and leans a little closer.
He’s so tall, his shoulders so broad, that it feels like he’s descending on me.
Suddenly, The Independent feels too small for the both of us in here.
“You know, that’s not the reaction I usually get from girls who’ve seen me in my boxers. ”
“What?” Vanessa shrieks, her excitement palpable.
“It’s nothing,” I rush to say. Maybe he just gets off on embarrassing people. That’s got to be it. The thought makes me want to scratch his eyes out.
“Oh, it’s definitely not nothing.”
I feel his proximity grow as he leans down and I glance up just in time to find his face right in front of me, making it impossible to ignore him or his taunting smile.
If it weren’t for the fact I just saw him shamelessly flirt with the waitress, I would assume this guy doesn’t know how to talk to women without pissing them off.
Turns out, he just doesn’t know how to talk to me.
“Would it help you to remember if I stripped?”
“Will you go away if I say yes?” The words spill out of me before I can stop them.
He grins, straightening. “As you wish.”
The next thing I know, he sets his coffee on the table and tugs the zipper on his jacket down, revealing a dark gray sweater and the waistband of his jeans underneath.
“What are you doing?”
He shrugs, reaching for his belt buckle, not the least bit fazed that Vanessa is staring like we’re the entertainment of the year. “Stripping.”
“Keep your clothes on,” I sputter, my face flaming red. I’ve already seen enough of him to last a lifetime. I do not need a reminder.
He laughs. It’s full and warm, and tugs at something in me. I hate it. But at least his hands drop from his belt buckle.
“Okay, someone better fill in the blanks for me real fast here, because my mind is whirling with all sorts of debauchery.”
His turns to her for the first time, and I breathe a little easier. “Would you mind introducing me, Vee? I think you know my roommate better than I do.”
Vanessa’s eyes practically pop out of her head. “You’re the creepy roommate?”
He looks back at me, one brow hitched, but he doesn’t say anything. And I feel a bit smug at his friend knowing he’s in the wrong here.
“Connor, this is Daisy. She won Tarah Striker’s creative writing residency this year,” Vanessa fires off before I can stop her.
Connor raises his brows, and if I didn’t know him as the arrogant asshole who barged in on me naked less than twenty-four hours ago, I might think he looked slightly impressed. “You must be pretty good.”
I shrug and take another sip of my coffee so I don’t have to answer. His lips twitch like he finds my lack of response amusing.
Vanessa snickers. “I can’t believe you guys are roommates.”
“Not by choice.” Maybe I am being childish, but I really don’t care. It’s not my fault that this guy is a walking, talking, infuriating prick.
“Apparently my apartment had the last bed available on campus.” He shrugs, like this arrangement isn’t bothering him as much as it is me.
“It’s almost a shame they didn’t force us to share.
It would’ve made for a great story: new girl forced to share bed with handsome guy, falls hopelessly in love.
” He spreads his hands out wide like he’s pitching a newspaper article.
“Your bed is the last place I’d ever sleep.”
“More room for me then.” He grins snatching his takeaway cup off the table, clearly not affected by any of my snarky remarks.
Then he starts to back away from our table.
“I’ll see you around, roomie,” he calls, pulling the attention of the nearby tables as he uses his free hand to salute us, before he turns on his heels and strides for the door.
When I look back at Vanessa, she’s biting her bottom lip to keep from laughing. “Looks like this semester just got interesting.”