Page 16 of Dear Roomie (Classic City Romance #1)

James

D rinking with the girls was exactly what I needed to forget Tanner’s assholery.

We move from bar to bar, drinking and dancing, and with each one, my worries about my boyfriend become less and less pressing.

I turned my phone off as soon as I met up with Chelsea; I can play the silent treatment too.

Fuck him for thinking I owe him anything, and fuck him for being mad I enforced a boundary.

The problem with my drink-to-forget plan is that something has to fill that void in my mind, and that something happens to be my roommate.

I’ve managed to keep most of my thoughts of him locked away behind a carefully constructed wall, but the alcohol has obliterated it like a wrecking ball, and they’ve all escaped to wreak havoc.

They flit between innocent and obscene—the way his dimple pops when he smiles, and every hard edge of his naked body.

My cheeks warm as I shake the image from my head. I can’t be thinking like this. Maybe another drink will drive the thoughts of Morgan away too.

“Guys, guys, look. It’s Nathan,” Chelsea squeals and points across the street.

I look, but it’s the man behind him who catches my attention. As if he was manifested by my fucked-up desires. Seeing Morgan kicks up a flurry of excitement in my core. He never comes out with Nathan.

Chelsea has dragged me out a few times so she could meet up with her latest fling, but Morgan is never there.

The goth pixie and scary bartender have been around, but no roommate.

His absence has been both relieving and disappointing, but I pushed both of those feelings away before I could dwell on them.

Morgan’s eyes land on me and trail up my body before landing on my face. My skin heats under his scorching gaze. I know what I’m wearing; I look good, and from the smile on his face, I’d say he agrees. He flashes his hand in a nervous wave, and I mirror the motion.

“Let’s go say hi.” A car horn blares as Chelsea grabs my wrist and pulls me into the busy street. She flips off the car but doesn’t adjust her course. The girl is on a mission. Evelyn follows a few steps behind us, mumbling an unheard apology to the driver.

Chelsea flings herself into Nathan’s arms, and he catches her with ease. “Saying hi” must be code for making out in the street based on the way those two are going at it.

Good for her, I guess.

Morgan stares down at me with that stupid smile on his face, and I freeze. A ball of nervous tension coils in my gut. What do I even say? For all I know, he’s pissed at me for abandoning him earlier.

“Hi.” He echoes his greeting from earlier, and the tension evaporates.

“Hi yourself,” I shoot back with a grin.

“So this is what was so important that you skipped out on me? I’m hurt.” He covers his heart with an overdramatic flourish of his hand.

“I think you are the one who ditched me. When I came back out of my room, you were gone.”

“Oh, I am so sorry, Queen James. Next time, I swear I will wait on the couch for eternity until you are ready to join me again.”

“Next time?” I ask him hopefully, dropping the playful banter.

“Yeah, next time. I mean, if you’d like, that is.” He runs his hand through his hair, and the smile slips.

“I would. Like to, I mean. Fuck. Yes, more nerd shows, please,” I ramble.

“Good.” That smile of his finds its place once more .

“We are headed to Cutter’s. You ladies want to join?” Nathan asks, popping the bubble surrounding me and Morgan. For a second, I forgot the others were even here.

My immediate reaction is to decline. The way my body responds to my roommate is dangerous, and I don’t trust myself this many drinks deep.

But Chelsea shoots me a pleading glance, and I hesitate.

Fuck Nathan for actually seeming like a good guy and making her happy.

I won’t let my own issues jeopardize that.

I give her a subtle nod, and she pulls me into a hug with a high-pitched squeal.

We make our way down the street, and I can feel my roommate’s stare on me the entire journey.

His attention makes my spine tingle and heat pool in my core.

I sway my hips more than what’s natural with each step—might as well give him a show.

To no one’s surprise, the goth pixie is waiting when we walk through the doors.

“About time you got here,” she shouts over the music.

“We ran into a bit of trouble on the way here,” Nathan says and kisses Chelsea’s neck, drawing a peal of laughter from her glossed lips.

“Always bringing in the strays.” Karis shakes her head and turns her attention to Morgan. “Want to play pool?” she asks with a shark-toothed smile.

“Not particularly…”

She’s walking way before the words are out of his mouth. He shrugs his shoulders with a sigh and follows her.

“Oh, this is gonna be good.” Nathan chuckles. He leads Chelsea toward the tables in the back, and I follow with Evelyn on my heels.

“Why, is Morgan good at pool or something?”

Nathan throws his head back in a fit of full-bellied laughter. “Good joke.” He pretends to wipe a tear from his eye. “You’ll see.”

I do see. He is fucking terrible .

He goes to make the break shot, and the cue ball spins off to the side without touching the racked balls. Karis cackles, her eyes shining with glee while Morgan’s roll at her antics, but there is a hint of a smile on his lips.

“Do you mind if I have a shot?” I reach out for a stick.

“Be my guest, Goldilocks.” She thrusts hers into my hand and crosses her arms over her chest as she squints. “Let’s see what you can do.”

I add chalk to the tip and line up my shot.

The motion is second nature. When my dad wasn’t deployed, I would spend my summers on the base with him.

He made a point of teaching me all the skills he deemed necessary for life, and pool made that cut.

A sharp clattering rings out through the bar as the cue connects with the balls in the middle of the table, causing them to scatter, and one sinks into a pocket on the backside.

I sink a second and then a third with ease.

Karis lets out a long whistle. “I’m impressed.”

I shrug off her compliment, and my attention darts over to Morgan. He’s watching me with unguarded awe, and his gaze stirs the butterflies in my stomach.

“Come here,” I tell him. He fidgets with his hair for a second before flashing one of his stupid smiles and following my command.

“Line up your shot.” Like a good little soldier, he does what I ask, and I take a moment to assess his technique.

“Here, like this.” I step up behind him and wrap my arms around him to adjust his angle.

The butterflies riot.

Thank God my face is hidden from him like this; my whole body flushes.

He feels so much bigger between my arms—I can barely reach around his frame.

It’s overwhelming. He’s overwhelming. I’m cocooned in his spiced-wood scent and the heat radiating from his body, and it’s intoxicating.

For a moment, I forget what I’m doing. All that exists is Morgan Hall.

Fuck. Pool .

“Now shoot,” I instruct. The cue ball strikes its intended target, sending it careening across the green carpet. It doesn’t land in a pocket, but it’s an improvement.

“Like that,” I praise before jerking away from him. “I’m gonna go get a drink.” I’m halfway across the bar before he can respond. The distance doesn’t help; the ghost of his body still haunts mine.

“Can I get some whiskey?” I ask the scary bartender.

He’s one of the guys’ friends, but I’ve never actually spoken to him outside of ordering a drink. It’s for the best. The man is terrifying. He’s huge, and the permanent scowl he wears only makes him more uninviting. Mr. Scary Bartender only grunts in response but grabs a bottle from the shelf.

“And something for Morgan, if you know what he likes,” I add. He pours my drink and sticks a bottle of beer next to it.

“Thank you.” I pull out my wallet, but he stops me with a shake of his head.

“I don’t charge friends,” he says in a gruff monotone.

“I didn’t know we were.”

“You live with Morgan. Your friend is fucking mine.” He shrugs. “It’s close enough.”

“Well, I appreciate it.”

He nods and turns his attention to another patron.

Maybe this drink will be enough to put thoughts of Morgan and the inappropriate way my body reacts to his out of my mind. It’s wishful thinking, but knowing that doesn’t stop me from finishing the glass in one long swallow. I’m going to need the liquid courage if I’m going to face him again.

I turn around and recoil; Karis is right behind me, far too close for comfort. The bottle of cheap beer nearly slips from my fingertips as I startle. When did she even get there?

She doesn’t seem fazed, opting to stare at me with her head cocked and that wide, toothy grin that makes my spine tingle. “You know, Morgan said you were a bitch, but I don’t see it. ”

I’m sorry, what did she just say?

It takes another second for the words to fully register.

She just called me a bitch—well, no, she said I wasn’t a bitch.

Morgan called me a bitch. He talked to his friends about me, and it wasn’t good.

My heart plummets. I’m not sure if I’m more upset that he called me a bitch or that he thought it.

I know I was a bit difficult, but I don’t think I was that bad, was I? Our past interactions run through my head like a slideshow, and I cringe. Maybe I do owe him an apology.

I mumble meaningless sounds in acknowledgment and move past the impish woman.

The sight of Evelyn cozied up against my roommate’s side rips the air out of my lungs.

My fingers clench the bottle in my hand as she moves her hand along his bicep and leans to whisper in his ear.

I have no right to be jealous, but that doesn’t change the fact that I am.

He isn’t mine, and he never can be.

I have Tanner, I love Tanner, and I need to stop thinking about my roommate this way.