Chapter Five
Billie
I give myself another once over in the mirror for what's likely the twentieth time. Nineteen years and I've never been this nervous for anything. Let's just say that's saying a lot, too, considering all the job interviews I've had. Not to even mention the first time I ever had sex. Unfortunately, he was a virgin as well and a beta, so the whole encounter was extremely awkward.
Gently tugging my sweater down for the millionth time over the top of my jeans, I make sure that my cami underneath doesn't reveal anything. The tiny crochet-like holes in the sweater make the cami visible, but thankfully between the two of them it's decent.
A few minutes before twelve, I throw on some ankle boots and grab my jacket already loaded down with my small wallet, keys, and phone. Making sure I put hands on my keys just to be safe, I lock the door behind me and head outside to wait for Palmer.
My nerves almost get the best of me and force me back inside behind the closed door. Of course, my trip is short, and he's already outside waiting at the curb, so my window of escape is gone as quickly as it arrived.
"Hi," I say as I make it to where he's leaning against his silver car.
"Hi," he repeats back to me with a wide smile. "You look nice."
"Thanks," I tell him, returning it.
I close the distance between us as he moves off the car. I decided to leave my hair down earlier in its natural wavy state, and he reaches out to take a few strands between his fingers. Slowly, he pulls his hand away revealing a lady bug caught between the same fingers.
"Thanks," I say again, running my hand through the same batch of hair as he sets the lady bug free.
"They're said to be good luck you know," he announces with conviction.
"I hope that's true," I reply. "I could really use a little bit of luck right now."
"Why?" he asks, his face dropping into a worried expression.
That's what causes me to give him an honest answer. "I'm nervous about meeting your pack."
He smiles but it doesn't light his face up like it normally does. I really hope that doesn't mean that he's nervous, too, because that can't bode well.
"Just be yourself," he says quietly, leaving the sentence feeling open and incomplete like he wants to add something.
Reaching out again, this time, he runs his thumb down the side of my cheek. Not having been touched in so long, I can't help it when I close my eyes and lean into it. When I open them, it's to find him right in front of me. He glances down at my lips, but doesn't make the first move. I assume he probably never will, because from what I know now, he's a damn gentleman, and I've already told him I'm not looking for anything other than friends. But, I can't stop myself even if I wanted to. Leaning in and going up on my toes just a bit, I press our lips together.
For a few seconds, that's all there is, but then his hand sinks into my hair and comes to a rest at the back of my head, pulling me even closer. Parting my lips is all the invitation he needs. His tongue sweeps in to caress mine, and I breathe out the butterflies in my stomach through a sigh into his mouth. Wrapping an arm around his back, I hug him tight as he kisses the nervousness away.
When he finally pulls away, he presses our foreheads together while we catch our breath. "Better?"
I nod softly, and he smiles, adding, "I've wanted to do that all week."
"I think I might need you to do it again," I remark.
He doesn't disappoint as he does just that, and when we come up for air this time, I can't be sure how much time has passed.
"We better get going, or they might start to wonder if I kidnapped you and am keeping you for myself," he teases.
I laugh and step into his car as he holds the door open for me. He crosses to the other side and hops in next to me. This same car that I've been riding in for a little over a week now feels more natural than my threadbare, lonely dorm room. Honestly, Palmer has made it a point to make the best of the twenty minutes back and forth all weekend. I feel like he knows more about me than anyone I've ever met. Since I didn't have friends or boyfriends in high school and Mom being sick, I literally had no one to talk to. Then again, he may or may not have had to drag some of the information out of me, because once you get so used to not sharing, anything offered feels like oversharing.
As we get on the small highway that'll lead us to the city, he reaches across the middle to take my hand. "This okay? As friends, of course."
I can't help the smile that breaks out across my face. "As friends."
Though, that kiss a few minutes ago says something otherwise. We're roughly ten minutes into the ride, and I realize that other than asking to hold my hand, he's been silent. Not even singing or humming along with the low music like he does sometimes.
"Okay," I throw out there, "what's wrong?"
He licks his lips nervously. "What do you mean?"
I dip my chin and raise an eyebrow at him. "You're never this quiet. What's going on?"
Shaking his head, he looks out the window and back to the road. "Nothing, we just didn't warn the rest of our pack that we'd have company today until this morning, and they didn't take it all that great."
My heart threatens to pound out of my chest. "Well, take me back to my dorms then. I don't want anyone getting upset or going through any trouble for me to be here."
He's already shaking his head before I finish speaking. "No, they're okay now, I think. They just weren't happy we didn't say anything until last minute."
"You think? What are you leaving out?" I ask anxiously.
We ride a few minutes without talking before he finally shares, "Two years ago there was this woman named Shelley. She worked with Roz at his firm. He got to know her, pretty much fell for her, then had us go to dinner to meet her. He was solidly certain that she was the omega meant for our pack. Everything was great for a couple of months while we all got to know her. But then Roz started losing cases he was working on. Information was getting leaked to other firms and the media. They tried to hunt down where it was coming from to no avail. Until one day she told him that she loved him in the same breath that she confessed to being the mole. Told him that she was offered a job at the rival firm and begged him to go with her. In all the time she took getting to know him, she never learned how loyal he is. It just about broke him, Jake, and Brent. I think Cordell didn't feel it as bad, because like me, we didn't get as close to her as the others did. He won't say it, but I swear he knew something wasn't right about her. So, we kind of have this rule now that at least two of us have to meet anyone we bring home to meet the pack, but no one has bothered since her."
My jaw hangs slack in shock for a few seconds before I whisper, "Palmer, take me back."
"What? Why?" he asks confused, hand unconsciously tightening on mine.
"I told you that I'm not looking for a pack," I remind him. "I don't want them getting ideas that I'm coming here for the wrong reasons, and I just kissed you. That sends all the wrong messages."
"Would it be such a bad thing if you were coming here to meet us as a prospect pack?" he asks quietly.
Squeezing his hand, I place my other one on top of them. "Not at all. If they're anything like you and Brent, I'm sure they're the greatest. I just don't want anyone getting their hopes up when that's not what I'm looking for at the moment. I'm so sorry. I shouldn't have kissed you."
Bringing our joined hands to his lips, he kisses mine before begging, "Please don't be sorry. I'm not. I knew kissing you came with no strings attached. And I'd do it all over again if you'd let me."
As reckless as it is, knowing one of us if not both are at risk of being hurt, I divulge, "I would, too."
His grin is contagious as he kisses my hand again. "Okay, so, no strings attached and no reason to be anxious. Yes?"
"Sure," I lie. How am I going to make it all day knowing what I do now? Every look I'll be wondering what they're thinking and if they're comparing me to her.
By the time we're pulling into the driveway of a house in an upscale neighborhood in the city, my palms are sweaty, and I'm forced to let go of his so that he won't be able to call me out on my lie.
Deep breath. Deep breath. I repeat over and over in my head as I wait for him to come around and open my door like he always does.
"Thanks for waiting," he says, holding out a hand to help me out.
His words force a smile to my lips. "After you fussing at me the other night, I don't think I'll make that same mistake again."
He shrugs, holding my hand as we walk. "My dad may not have been around to teach me everything, but my pack has made sure that I at least have manners."
I laugh breathlessly, and it comes out sounding as nervous as I feel. As we make it to the door, I pull my hand from his. He glances back at me questioningly.
"No strings, remember?" I remind him quietly.
He nods and smiles without seeming disappointed in the least.
Then he opens the door to walk in, beckoning me inside as I take my last deep lungful of free air. It comes out in a soft whoosh as I get my first look inside their home. Everything is white with dark accents, giving the appearance of opulence everywhere you look. From the wide, carpeted staircase that leads to a second floor, to the huge, sparkling chandelier hanging from the ceiling.
"How do you clean that?" I ask as Palmer moves to my side and peers upward with me.
The voice that answers isn't Palmer, but it is familiar. "We don't. We pay a cleaning service every month to come in for it. That, I do believe, is accessed with a ladder and cleaned with a rag."
Lowering my gaze, I'm surprised to find the alpha from yoga class standing a few feet away. His head lists to the side a bit as though he's trying to place where he knows me from. He's dressed comfy in a pair of tight jeans, a hunter-green henley, and a pair of slip-on loafers. The whole outfit probably cost more than I made the past two weeks at the bar. Still looking just as delicious as he does in workout clothes and smelling just as good, too, as I get a good whiff of spicy aftershave.
"Cordell, this is Billie," Palmer introduces us.
I begin to tell him that it's nice to officially meet him, but he beats me to it. "I do believe we've already met."
"Informally, with no names, if that counts as a meeting," I say.
His lips pull up in a closed-mouth smile that makes me feel like I've accomplished something.
Palmer wears a surprised expression, and I'm not sure whether it's because I'm familiar with yet another member of his pack or that I made the stern one break. I'll have to remember to ask him later.
"We take the same yoga class," I offer Palmer.
"Okay, cool," he says. "I was kind of wondering."
"Care to meet the rest of the pack?" Cordell asks, flourishing a hand to show me the way.
"Sure," I tell him, trying my damnedest to not let my nervousness show.
We travel through a formal sitting room with expensive-looking furniture that appears to have never been sat on and a clean fireplace. I follow Palmer into a dining room with a long table and two cabinets full of fancy China dishes against the wall. From there we drop down a couple steps into a lower lit den where I spot a familiar face and two strangers. They all stand as we come in.
Palmer takes the lead again, "Billie, this is Jake and Roz."
Jake is around Palmer's height, and I'd hazard a guess to say same age, too. They both have similar dark hair. Jake's is short and styled back with gel or something of the sort. I'm surprised to see Roz's is longer and a bit more unruly. From what I've been told of him, I'd expected him to be more of a control freak. Deep down, I kind of like that I was wrong. Roz is slightly taller than Brent, but much leaner and a more oblong facial structure.
I process all of this about them as I'm saying, "Nice to meet you."
"The pleasure is ours," Roz replies. Yet another surprise, his voice is dark. Deep enough to have those pesky butterflies coming back for a visit.
"Ms. Bardot," Brent states in welcome as he moves over to where we're standing.
I return his smile. "Professor."
"Oh hell," Jake mumbles before turning away and walking over to a small bar built into the wall in the corner.
Fumbling for a second, I feel like I've done something wrong, but Brent reassures me. "Don't worry about him."
If Palmer hadn't shared their secrets with me on the way here, I might be able to believe him. As it stands, I'm not too uneducated to know that I've said something wrong. I might ought to save the ‘professor’ comments for when Brent and I are alone. Or with Palmer. He didn't seem to mind the joke.
"Come sit down," Brent offers, ushering me over to the dark-brown leather sectional taking up the middle part of the room. "Do you want something to drink?"
"I'm good," I tell him. "Or maybe some ice water." Might need it if I start getting tongue tied and need a small reprieve from chatting to gather my thoughts. Jake comes back over from the bar holding a small glass with a big, round ice ball in the middle of it surrounded by water in one hand and his drink in the other.
"Thank you," I tell him, breathing in the sweetest coconut scent as he nods once and passes to go take a seat next to Cordell.
I sit back and try to get comfy like the others and cross one leg over the other.
"So, what is supposed to be screening tonight on campus?" Brent asks.
Shrugging, I admit, "I've been too busy this week to even check. Didn't really matter, because I already had plans and didn't think I'd make it back in time."
"I think it was one of the car racing series," Palmer answers. "The one that had the weird guy from that alien movie."
"Ah," Brent nods. "Speaking of which, we told Jake about your love for Troma that we discovered last weekend."
"Yeah?" I ask, glancing over at the man in question who isn't openly wearing his hostile expression anymore. "Which one is your favorite?"
He chuckles as do most of the others. "I don't have one. I could watch them all over and over."
"He already has," Roz confesses for him.
"Want to see my collection?" Jake asks.
I nod enthusiastically and get up to follow him over to the wall where he presses a button and part of it slides out of the way revealing rows upon rows of DVDs.
"Holy, bananas!" I exclaim. "Now this is a movie collection."
"This whole row right here is nothing but Troma," he tells me proudly.
"How long did it take you to collect all of these?" I ask curiously. "There are some here I haven't even heard of."
He chuckles, and I like the way it makes my skin tingle. "I started hunting them all down about four years ago."
"That's impressive," I admit not daring to touch any of them but taking my time to read the spines of the cases.
"Want to pick one for tonight, or do you trust me enough to let me pick for us?" he asks.
"I don't know you enough to trust you with much of anything," I say honestly. "But, as this seems to be your area of expertise, I'm going to request that you choose."
Whatever the play was with his question, I get the feeling I passed as he smiles the first real smile since I walked in.
"Not going to lie," he says, "I was surprised hearing that you like these movies. It's an unusual and unpopular genre that didn't make it past the eighties."
"Now that's just too bad, isn't it?" I ask, smiling. "Could you imagine what they'd do with it these days with all of the technological advances? People just don't care for the cheesy gore core anymore."
"‘Gore core?’" he repeats.
Bringing a hand to my lips, I hide my smile behind it. "Yeah, sorry. That's just what I call it."
Lost in thought, he agrees after a few seconds. "I think it's fitting. We're going to watch this one."
I walk back over to where everyone sits waiting patiently. Brent smiles up at me from his place on the couch. "Impressed?"
"Absolutely," I tell him, returning to my spot beside him. "I wasn't even aware there were that many of them out there."
"Guess we're no longer allowed to question my sanity, now that I have an ally," Jake says, coming back over.
"Oh no," Cordell says. "We're still very much questioning that. On the daily."
They all either grin or chuckle except Roz, who I've felt has been watching me as though I'll steal something when none of them are looking. I've been trying to ignore his gaze that's been burning a hole through me the whole time.
"We're told that you're going to North Five University," he states.
It leaves me no choice but to look at him, making my palms sweat again. "Yes, this is my first semester there."
"What is your major?" he asks.
"Digital Arts," I answer. The question always seems to surface when talking about college, so it's no surprise that he's curious.
"And where does that choice lead you?" he inquires. "What are your career options from that?"
"Graphic design, digital management, and many other choices," I reply easily, not ashamed to admit that my choice is up in the air at the moment. "I haven't decided what yet. It hadn't been my first option for what I wanted to do, but it is the shortest school time and depending on what you do afterward, could pay really well."
"What was your first option?" he asks, starting to make me feel slightly overwhelmed with all the questions.
There's only one other person in the world who knows the answer to that question, and she probably doesn't even remember having the conversation. I've never told another living soul, and for some odd reason, I want to tell them.
"A legal aid," I confess.
This catches him off guard. "Is that so? That's a drastic change from one career option to another. Do you mind me asking why you changed your mind?"
I shrug. "It takes a lot longer. Time is money in college, and I didn't exactly come from a rich family to be able to help pay for it."
"Even if the payout in the end yields better results and more money?" he states quizzically.
"I've got another two semesters in core classes, so there's plenty of time to change my mind if I want to," I tell him smiling.
"Okay," Palmer jumps in. "This is starting to feel like an interrogation."
"We're just conversing," Roz tells him, holding his palms up.
Palmer ignores him and stands reaching out for my hand. "Want to take a tour of the house?"
"Sure," I say, trying not to sound too enthusiastic to be escaping the attention and questions for a short while. I'm so flustered that I forget that this is a friend thing and here I am exiting a room filled with his pack hand in hand with him. By the time I realize, it's too late.
He tows me into a bright kitchen that's all white and chrome. I'll never understand the fascination with rich people and white. Maybe it's because they've never spent hours trying to wipe things down and clean spaghetti sauce off of surfaces from where their drunk mother threw a tantrum like a toddler. Guess that'll make the world of difference when making the interior decorating decisions.
Palmer waits until we've walked into a study to apologize. "I'm sorry if you felt bombarded in there with Roz. He can be a bit much sometimes."
"It's fine," I tell him, not wanting him to worry. "It's only fair since I'm a new element. It's human nature to be curious. Just like I am with all of these books."
I stroll across the room to glance over the spines of the books taking up room on the built-in bookshelves behind a massive desk in the middle of the space. Almost all of them are law books. I'd love to take one down and look through it, but I don't want to overstep any boundaries.
"Well, I would say they're all boring books Roz uses for work, but now that I know you were interested in that kind of thing, it may not be so boring to you," he says.
Turning back around, I go to tell him that some of the information in said books is actually fascinating, but I'm too distracted by Roz leaning against the doorframe with his arms crossed on his chest. My mouth goes dry at the sight, and I can't help thinking I'll be saving that one for later. When we first entered, the room had a slight scent of fresh, clean laundry, and I'd assumed maybe the space had just been cleaned. However, the moment Roz moves, I know that the scent is coming from him. It's not mouthwatering like Brent's fruity cereal or butterfly inducing like Cordell's spicy aftershave. Roz has a scent that makes me want to load a bed with blankets, trap him beneath them with me, and cuddle for hours, if not days.
He's the one who breaks the silence. "I apologize if I seemed too forward with all of my questions."
I give him a soft smile. "It's okay. Like I just told Palmer, I'm new. Plus, that's the only way you get to know someone, right? Asking questions."
"Speaking of Palmer," my friend says talking in third person, "he will be right back."
Waiting until he brushes past him, Roz mutters, "Well, that was subtle."
Laughing, I ask the first thing that comes to mind, "So, are you a lawyer?"
"The law books give me away?" he asks, moving to my side and pointing toward the bookshelves.
"Actually, it was all of the questions," I tease. For the first time since walking through their door, I get a smile from him. It's not a big one and it doesn't last long, but I'll take it.
"I'm very protective over my pack," he states.
"As you should be," I tell him. "I honestly mean no harm to anyone. I told Palmer and Brent both that I didn't want anything other than friends right now. I want to stay focused."
He nods. "That's what they said. I just want to make sure you understand that the two of them are the softest of us. They won't take being hurt easily, and I won't take it lightly."
Glancing at the floor, I swallow hard. I can read between the lines of his vaguely veiled threat. I can't be upset with him either, because I'd do anything for the people I care about, too.
Trying to change the subject, I direct the conversation back to him as I prop my hip against the desk. "Did you always want to be a lawyer?"
His eyes travel down to where my body is connected with the hard wood of the desk and back up again. "No. When I was in grade school, I wanted to be a doctor. Then, one day, Cordell fell and split his head open. I fainted as soon as I saw the blood pouring out onto the concrete. We both ended up at the hospital, and the amount of ridicule from our peers was almost unbearable until they found something new."
I'd felt like I was challenging him at first when I knew he wanted to tell me to get off the desk, which would've been the polite thing to do. Call me crazy, but I wasn't budging. However, by the end of his story, all I want to do is comfort him. I don't think there's a person on this planet that doesn't have to suffer through the meanness of our peers. No one knows that better than a poor kid with no pack.
Instinctively, I reach out to lay my hand on his arm, and his gaze drops to where my hand rests, mostly on his dark-blue, forearm-length shirt. Only my pinky is actually touching his skin.
"Okay, I'm back," Palmer announces, bouncing back into the room.
I jerk back my arm like I've just been touching fire and meet him at the doorway. I don't know what Roz makes of me since I can't make sense of myself. One minute, I'm telling him I only want friends, and the next, I'm touching him. Friends can comfort friends, right?
"Let's go finish our tour," Palmer insists, taking my hand again and pulling me from the room. He doesn't give me the chance to say anything to Roz, which is likely a good thing, because I don't know what I'd say anyway.
"Upstairs we go," he says, slowing his pace to match my slower one going up.
"Why do I feel like you take these steps three at a time and slide down the banister?" I tease him.
He winks at me. "That's because I do. Of course, if I get caught I have to claim I was sleep walking or I'll get a stern talking to."
My jaw drops. "And they're not the least bit worried about you sliding down in your sleep?"
His chuckle echoes down the stairs. "You'd be surprised the amount of stuff I can get away with."
Shaking my head with a grin, I can only imagine. I let him lead me around the second floor, popping open everyone's room to give me a view inside as we go. The scent that is released after every opening of the door, makes my body ache in places I didn't even think possible. When I say I could literally lay in the middle of the giant hall connecting all the doors and make scent angels on the carpet, don't think the thought hasn't crossed my mind.
The last and final door, Palmer opens with a flourish of dramatics. "And this, my lady, is my humble abode."
Even without the invite, I'd be able to tell this room was his. Spearmint hits me so strong that my tongue sneaks out to lick my lips of its own accord without me thinking of doing it. He's let me walk in front of him to explore, and when I turn around, it's to come flush against his chest.
Grasping my hips, he pulls me closer. Just before his lips touch mine, I gently place my fingers over his.
There's confusion in his expression, so I remind him. "Just friends, remember."
"No strings, remember?" he counters.
Damn the loopholes. I can't find it in me to argue past them, so I let my fingers drop. The second I do, he leans down and presses them against mine. Same as before, he kisses me so thoroughly that I feel like I lose myself in him. His tongue brushes against mine and his scent surrounds me in a comforting bubble that I don't ever want to escape from. The warmth from his palms radiates through my shirt, warming my skin beneath it.
It isn't until a voice clears over by the door that I'm able to come to my senses and pull away. Palmer spins around slowly, and I try to hide behind him. After I just proclaimed to his pack mates that I didn't want anything other than to be friends, I get busted making out with one of them minutes later.
A sweet, fruity scent registers half a second before a finger slips beneath my chin to lift it. I'm met with understanding and no judgement in an icy-blue gaze. Brent's eyes drop to my lips and back up again. With one of my arms pressed against Palmer's back and the other caught between my body and Brent's, their scents mingle, making my heart do a double-time march in my chest. He doesn't kiss me, though, much to my disappointment.
"Don't hide from us," Brent says softly.
I nod in agreement, and he returns it, asking, "Want to see something?"
"Sure," I tell him in a soft murmur.
"I'm going to borrow her for a few moments," he tells Palmer, who gives his own nod before plopping down on the edge of his bed.
Not taking my hand like his pack mate has been doing, Brent slowly strolls out of the room, and I waste no time following behind him. The main hallway is more of a room itself, with all of their doors spaced out and connected to it. He takes us back to one in the right corner that I remember Palmer pointing out as Brent's.
"Did he give you a tour of all the rooms?" he asks, opening the door and allowing me to walk in first.
"He did," I tell him, quickly adding, "though, I do believe he was holding out on me." I say that because Brent's room is gorgeous. I got a quick peek on the way through, but it's nothing like stepping inside. The walls are the darkest shade of blue I've ever seen and they match the color scheme of his bed, only it has some light blue thrown in there with a couple pillows. His headboard is black leather, and underneath the whole thing is a royal-blue rug accented in cream that runs throughout the material and around the edges. What's most impressive isn't even in the room. It's what I can see in the dresser mirror reflection from the bathroom.
Easing across the room, I step into the bathroom and my breath is sucked from my lungs. There are normal things like a toilet and semi-fancy, stand-up shower in the corner. But, the entire rest of the room is anything but normal. A giant spa-like tub runs the back length of the room. Behind it, built into the wall, is a massive aquarium with beautiful colorful fish swimming around. Small spotlights dot the edges of the ceiling, giving the room a soft glow.
"What do you think?" Brent asks from behind me.
Glancing over my shoulder, I find him standing in the doorway with his hands in his pockets, looking way sexier than any man should have the right to. His grey v-neck t-shirt strains at the arms and is tight around his torso. The dark-blond dusting of hair lining his jaw that arches above his top lip makes him appear like a rugged rough man, but those ice-blue eyes speak otherwise. A smile forms on his lips as he watches me ogle him.
"The view is nice," I answer, remembering that he asked me a question. "The room is nice, too."
His laugh is boisterous and echoes around the room.
"Honestly, though, this is by far my favorite room in the entire house," I tell him, still smiling.
Grinning, he appears to be hiding a secret. Pointing to the other door that's closed directly across the bathroom, he says, "That's Roz's room through there. We both had a hand in this design."
My eyebrows lift in surprise. "Wow, I didn't get a vibe like this from him."
"Why?" he questions, not bothering to hide his smile. "Figured his style might be a little more..."
He trails off, obviously expecting me to finish the statement. Not wanting to disappoint, I do. "Stale? Prim and proper?"
The laugh he barks at this is even sturdier than before and sends him into a fit that he has to hold his hand over his belly for. I'm laughing with him by the time he manages to stop.
"I think that's the first time anyone has ever called him stale," he admits. "I'm here for it. Please, if he ever tries to start an argument with you, because he will, call him that."
Touching my lips, I huff out another quick laugh. "Why would he pick a fight with me?"
He shrugs. "Honestly, I think it's just because he loves arguing with people."
"Obviously," I say, referring to his job.
"Obviously," he repeats, smiling broadly.
"So, what other secrets are you hiding around here?" I tease.
His smile grows again. "Guess you'll have to stick around long enough to find out."
I spend the rest of the day hanging out at their house. We play pool at one point. When I make a bet with Jake that I can beat him, I'm not entirely sure that he doesn't let me win, but either way, I'm not going to complain since it means I'll get to use the aquarium bathroom upstairs.
Once Brent starts dinner, I take to the kitchen with him to help him cook. We end up not being alone as the rest of them find some way to make themselves useful in the room with us. Causing him to call them out on it, saying they never help cook normally on his days. Jake agrees with Palmer when he says it's just because Brent always cooks the best food. I don't mind either way, because I like their easygoing banter with each other. The only one who doesn't make a huge effort to get involved is Roz. I feel like a bug under a microscope every time I turn to catch him staring at me. I do the best that I can to ignore it.
After dinner, we chill out in their den for the movie that Jake picked out. It's even more odious than the one they played on campus last weekend, and I love it. And if it hadn't gotten so late, when it's over, I could've been talked into another one. As it is, everyone has work the next day and a couple of us have school.
Palmer drives me home, walking me to the door of my dorm before giving me a lighter kiss than he has all day and promising that it's just a small reminder of him. I fall into my empty, creaky, uncomfortable bed with a smile, and for once, look forward to tomorrow.