Chapter 6
AUSTIN
Istared at my phone screen in disbelief, my jaw clenching as the number Kate had just given me matched perfectly with one already stored in my contacts—the very same number that had been sending me those deliciously inappropriate texts.
Before my brain could catch up with my thumb, I’d already hit the call button.
Kate’s phone buzzed in her hand. She glanced down, then back up at me, her bright green eyes widening with the same realization that had just knocked the wind out of me.
“You’re...” she started, her voice trailing off.
“Mr. Wrong Number,” I finished, recalling her ridiculous contact name for me.
For several excruciating seconds, we just stared at each other.
Then Kate snorted. Actually snorted. And something about that undignified sound broke the tension entirely.
“Oh my god,” she wheezed between bursts of laughter. “I’ve been sexting my roommate.”
Her laughter was contagious, and despite my usual reserve, I found myself joining her. “Technically, I’m your landlord.”
“Oh, that’s so much better.” She gasped, wiping tears from her eyes. “I propositioned my landlord with detailed descriptions of what I wanted to do with his—”
“I remember,” I cut her off, my voice rougher than I intended. “Vividly.”
That stopped her laughter abruptly. Her cheeks flushed pink, the color spreading down her neck to disappear beneath the collar of her lab coat.
“This is...” She gestured vaguely between us.
“Unexpected,” I offered.
“I was going to say cosmically improbable to the point of statistical impossibility, but sure, unexpected works too.”
I couldn’t help the smile that tugged at my lips. This was the woman I’d been texting—sharp, funny, unfiltered—trapped in the body of my chaotic roommate who had upended my carefully organized life.
“We should probably talk about this,” I said, setting my protein shake down with precision on a coaster.
“Or we could pretend it never happened and I’ll move out immediately and change my name and possibly my profession and maybe my face,” Kate suggested, only half-joking.
“That seems excessive.”
She sighed dramatically. “Maybe. But you have PT, and I have to get to the lab, so let’s just...”
“Talk about it later,” I finished firmly, nodding. “Yeah.”
“Great plan,” Kate agreed quickly, grabbing her bag and heading toward the door. “Pretending everything is normal.”
“Perfectly normal,” he echoed dryly, holding the door open for me.
I gave him a weak thumbs-up. “Have a good PT session.”
“Enjoy the lab.”
Neither of us sounded convincing.
By the time we both got home that evening, the apartment felt charged, every accidental glance adding more tension. Kate moved quietly around the kitchen, restlessly rearranging her notes, clearly avoiding my eyes. Seeing her this uncomfortable tugged at something deep inside my chest.
“Hey,” I said finally, keeping my voice gentle.
She turned, startled, gripping a notebook tighter than necessary. “Yeah?”
“You okay?”
Kate sighed, her shoulders dropping slightly. “I spent the entire day replaying every embarrassing text I sent you. So, not exactly.”
I took a slow step toward her, softening my expression to ease her nerves. “If it helps, I did the same thing. But you don’t need to feel bad about it—we’re equally responsible here.”
Her eyes searched mine, the tension in her posture easing slightly. “Still mortifying.”
“I’m not judging,” I reassured her quietly. “And for what it’s worth, I’m glad it was you.”
Her lips parted in surprise, a faint blush coloring her cheeks. Then she smiled, tentative at first, but quickly growing into something warmer. “Really?”
“Really.” I held her gaze, offering a gentle smile. “Now, can we stop avoiding each other and just talk?”
She exhaled softly, nodding. “Talking is good.”
Hours later, we were sitting cross-legged on the living room floor, takeout containers abandoned around us, scrolling through our text history and taking turns reading messages aloud.
It should’ve been painfully awkward, especially for someone like me who valued privacy above all else.
But somehow, with Kate laughing helplessly beside me, it just wasn’t.
“Oh god, listen to this one,” Kate said, holding up her phone. “‘I’ve never told anyone this, but sometimes I organize my sock drawer by color and fabric weight.’ Stone, that’s the saddest attempt at a confession I’ve ever heard.”
“Says the woman who admitted to naming her underwear after Golden Girls characters.”
“Hey, Blanche the underwear deserves respect,” she shot back, tossing a fortune cookie at me.
I caught it easily. “At least I didn’t write—” I picked up my phone and scrolled to find the exact quote. “‘Sometimes I imagine your hands on me when I’m alone in bed, wondering if they’re as strong as they seem in my head.’”
Kate’s face flamed again, but she didn’t back down. “Well? Are they?”
The air between us suddenly feels charged with something electric. I flexed my fingers unconsciously.
“You’d have to find out for yourself,” I said, my voice lower than usual.
She swallowed visibly, her eyes darkening. Then she reached for my phone. “Let me see what else I said to you.”
As Kate scrolled through our messages, her expression shifted from embarrassment to something else. “It’s fascinating,” she mused. “We were essentially different people via text.”
“Were we?” I asked, leaning back against the couch. “Or were we more ourselves?”
She looked up, surprised. “That’s...actually profound, Stone.”
“Don’t sound so shocked. I went to college.”
“To play hockey,” she teased.
“Economics major,” I corrected her. “With a minor in business management.”
“Hmm. Hot and smart. Dangerous combination.”
My eyebrows shot up at her boldness, and she immediately clamped a hand over her mouth.
“Sorry! Text Kate is bleeding into Real Kate. Boundaries. We need boundaries.”
I watched her squirm, enjoying her discomfort more than I should. “What exactly would those boundaries be, Dr. Ellis?”
She narrowed her eyes at me. “Don’t ‘Dr. Ellis’ me with that voice.”
“What voice?” I asked innocently, deliberately lowering it further.
“That one. The one that’s like...” She waved her hands vaguely. “Auditory chocolate.”
I couldn’t help it—I laughed. A real laugh that I felt all the way through my chest. Kate stared at me like I’d grown a second head.
“What?” I asked.
“I’ve never heard you laugh before. Not like that.”
I shrugged, suddenly self-conscious. “Haven’t had much reason to lately.”
She smiled then, soft and genuine. “Well, finding out your uptight landlord is actually your secret text boyfriend is pretty laugh-worthy.”
“Boyfriend?” I raised an eyebrow.
“Figure of speech!” she backpedaled quickly, then paused as her phone buzzed with a notification. Her eyes widened as she checked it.
“Speaking of boyfriends—oh shit, is that the time? I have a video call with Dr. Barnes about my fellowship in five minutes!”
Kate scrambled to her feet, nearly knocking over the remaining takeout in her haste. I watched her frantic movements with amusement as she gathered her laptop and notes.
“Do you need me to clear out?” I asked, already knowing what a disaster a video call would be with her current setup.
“No, no, I’ll just...” She glanced around wildly. “Use the guest room. Your guest room. My room. Whatever.”
As she hurried down the hallway, I heard her mutter, “Don’t think about the texts, don’t think about the texts,” and couldn’t help the smirk that crossed my face.
Left alone, I cleaned up our dinner mess, my mind replaying the evening’s revelation. The woman who’d been living rent-free in my head for weeks was the same one who’d been living rent-reduced in my condo.
I was loading the dishwasher when I heard Kate’s voice drift down the hallway, suddenly shifting into what I now recognized as her “professional mode”—rapid-fire scientific jargon punctuated by “Yes, Dr. Barnes” and “Of course, Dr. Barnes.”
Curious, I moved closer, telling myself I wasn’t eavesdropping—just heading to my bedroom. But I paused when I heard a lull in her professional chatter, the perfect moment to have a little fun.
I knocked softly on her door.
“Everything okay in there, roomie?”
There was a brief silence, then Kate’s strained voice: “Just fine, thank you!”
“Because I was thinking about that thing you mentioned in your text last Thursday, about the shower situation.”
I heard a muffled choking sound, followed by: “Dr. Barnes, could you excuse me for just one second?”
The door flew open and Kate emerged, her face flushed crimson, eyes blazing. “Are you trying to get me fired?” she hissed.
I leaned against the wall, enjoying this new power dynamic. “Just being a considerate roommate.”
“I will murder you with science,” she threatened, jabbing a finger at my chest. “They’ll never find the body.”
“Pretty sure Dr. Barnes would figure it out.”
“I—” she started, then stopped as we both heard Dr. Barnes’s voice calling Kate’s name from the laptop. “We are not done with this conversation,” she whispered fiercely before disappearing back into the room.
I chuckled to myself as I headed to my bedroom, undeniably turned on by this fiery version of Kate. The same woman who apologized to my coffee maker when she used it wrong was now threatening my life with those bright eyes and that delicious flush on her skin.
Fuck.
This was going to be complicated.
The next morning, I woke to the sound of Kate banging around in the kitchen. I checked the time—five fifteen a.m.—and frowned. She was never up this early.
I pulled on a pair of sweatpants and headed to the kitchen to find her furiously measuring coffee grounds.
“Morning,” I said, my voice still rough with sleep.
She jumped, nearly spilling the grounds. “Jesus! Warn a person before you ninja into the room half-naked.”
Her eyes skimmed over my bare chest before quickly darting away, but not before I caught the appreciation in them. Interesting.