Page 25 of Dear Roomie (Classic City Romance #1)

I give her a small nod and make my way over to James.

Wariness shines in her expression as she tracks my approach; she’s like a rabbit caught in a predator’s sights, readying itself to flee at a moment’s notice.

Disappointment pangs in my chest. One of these days, she will learn that I’m not her predator, and that she could never be anyone’s prey.

Until that day comes, I’ll keep doing what I can to reassure her there’s no wolf waiting to strike underneath this wool.

“Ariel, Belle, and…” I pause to try to figure out what exactly she is supposed to be. My gaze roams over her white dress and coiffed blond locks. “…Marilyn Monroe? That is an interesting combo.”

She huffs and turns her attention to the ocean.

“Hey, I’m sorry. I was only joking around. You look beautiful, James.” My words tumble out in a rush. Two sentences in, and I’m already messing this up. I want to cheer her up, not make things worse.

“No, it’s fine.” She lets out a long sigh but turns back to face me. “It’s just…I’m only…It wasn’t…” She stumbles over her words, never finishing a thought .

“It was Tanner’s idea, right?” I supply, and her eyes narrow as her shoulders fall.

“You know about that?” she questions in a small voice.

“Evelyn told me he didn’t show up. I put the costume thing together on my own.”

“Oh.” She turns back toward the ocean, eyes glistening.

“It was stupid of me to bring it up. I’m sorry he did that to you.” I keep my arms locked at my side, fighting back the urge to grab her and pull her close.

“You aren’t the one who stood me up.” She palms away the tears from her eyes, scowling, and her spine steels as she looks at me again. “I don’t want to talk about Tanner.”

“Okay then, we won’t talk about that.”

The conversation stalls.

James turns back toward the water, watching the waves crash against the shore. Normally, these little moments of silence between us are comfortable, but her gloomy aura taints it, causing it to bear down on me with oppressive weight.

“You know, this is my first time seeing the ocean.” The words come tumbling out without any thought. Her head snaps toward me, disbelief shining through her glassy stare.

“How the fuck have you never seen the ocean before?”

“I’ve never had the opportunity,” I say with a shrug. “I grew up near the Great Lakes, so I’ve been to the beach, but the one we always went to was more rocky than sandy.”

“This is a terrible first beach experience,” she says, sounding appalled.

“Come on, I have an idea.” She grabs my hand and starts to pull me away from the crowd.

I should pull my hand away, but, for the first time since I laid eyes on her today, James is smiling.

So I let her drag me along, and I savor the feeling of her hand in mine.

“Where are we going? ”

“For a walk. Now shut up and trust me.”

I shut my mouth and follow behind her.

The crowd thins as we move away from the party’s epicenter. Seeming satisfied with the distance she’s put between us and the horde, James stops, kicks off her shoes, and steps ankle-deep into the surf. Even after she lets go of my hand, I’m haunted by the ghost of her touch.

A few stray golden strands flutter in the gentle breeze as she walks in front of me with her attention fixed to the shallow tide. She’s like a dog on the hunt for its quarry; I half expect her to freeze and point in a direction once she catches its scent.

“What are you do—” I start to ask, but she lurches forward, reaching into the water just as the words pass my lips.

“Looking for this.” Her face glows with pride as she holds her hand out to me, displaying a pile of sopping sand littered with tiny bits of seashells that have been eroded by the waves.

“A handful of sand…?” I try and fail to mask my confusion. I only just got that smile on her face, and I’d hate to kill it now. But she simply laughs, and the sound loosens the knot that had settled in my gut.

“No, it’s a shark’s tooth.” She plucks a tiny black speck out of the silt and drops the shiny triangle into my hand.

“From an actual shark?”

“No, it’s from an imaginary shark.” She rolls her eyes and lets out another bubble of laughter. “Of course it’s from a real shark.”

“Well, excuse me for asking,” I say in mock offense, but she can tease me all she wants if it keeps her happy. “We don’t have sharks back in Michigan. Is the water even safe?”

“As safe as a large body of water can be.” She shrugs and turns her attention back toward the tide.

“Growing up, anytime my dad was stationed near the ocean, he would take me out to find cool shells or shark teeth when he had free time. I’ve got a jar full of them in my room back home that we gathered from all over the country. ”

“People look for Petoskey stones around the lakes,” I tell her. She cocks her head and looks back in my direction with her forehead pinched. “Fossilized coral,” I explain, “Laura always said they were overrated. She collected sea glass instead.”

“Tell me something else about you,” she demands with a playful glare.

“Like what?” I can’t think of anything about me that is worth sharing that she doesn’t already know. She knows more about me than anyone else; the others don’t even know about Laura. It isn’t a story I like to share.

“What’s your favorite color?”

“My favorite color? Why do you want to know that?”

“Because I don’t know it, and I feel like I should. Friends know each other’s favorite colors.”

“Is that what we are, James? Friends?” The words come out sharper than I intend them to, honed by the bitter bite of resentment, and my tone catches me off guard.

She makes me feel a lot of things, and resentment isn’t one of them, but coupled with the word friend , it rips its way to the surface.

It’s not because I want to be more than friends—or, more accurately, I am not resentful of only being her friend despite my feelings—the resentment stems from the fact that, until now, friendship hasn’t been on the table.

James turns to face me, her eyes narrowed and simmering with heat.

The look causes unease to churn in my gut, and my back stiffens as I brace for the impending verbal lashing.

She moves closer, invading my space. The nearness forces her to tilt her head back to look at me, but she leaves enough of a gap between us that our bodies don’t touch.

Her hardened expression softens, but the heat in her gaze only grows.

My heart rate climbs, the thrumming so intense I wouldn’t be surprised if she could hear it.

I’m enthralled by her presence; any rational thought I could have is eclipsed by her .

She places her hand on my bicep, and my skin lights up with pinprick tingles at her touch.

“I’d like to be,” she says, squeezing my arm with a soft smile.

She’d like to be what?

It takes another second for my brain to break through whatever spell she cast. We were talking about being friends, and sharks, and colors.

“Purple,” I blurt out, “but not royal purple. The softer type, like a lilac-y purple.”

Her bottom lip catches between her teeth in an attempt to hold back a grin. She resists for a moment before she laughs, and a radiant smile lights up her face.

“What’s so funny?” I try to keep my face serious, but her smile is contagious.

“Lilac-y purple isn’t a color. It’s just called lilac. Saying lilac-y purple is like saying maroon-y red or aqua-y blue.” She lets out another peal of laughter.

“Fine, Miss Color Expert, what’s your favorite color, then?”

She slams her mouth shut, locking her lips in a tight line, and stares up at me with mirth.

“Come on, now, it’s only fair,” I prod.

She doubles down on her refusal, shaking her head back and forth in defiance.

Then she takes a step back, drops her hand, and takes off running down the beach.

I run after her, closing the distance in a few long strides, and catch her waist in an iron grip, pulling her flush against my chest. Unbridled laughter rings out as she kicks her legs in the air, squealing as I spin us around in a circle.

The fabric of her dress flares with the momentum, painting a white swath against the blue horizon.

I place her feet back on the sand and pull away. Her breaths match mine, coming fast and heavy. She turns to face me, her whole face radiating joy, and I’m once again struck by her beauty.

“Do I get my answer now? I caught you fair and square.”

“Do you promise not to laugh?” she asks, her forehead creasing in consideration .

“Why would I laugh?”

“I don’t know. I laughed at yours, so it would only be fair.”

“James, I promise—no, pinky promise—that I won’t laugh at your favorite color.” I keep my tone as serious as I can and hold my pinky out to her. She bursts into another fit of laughter but links hers with mine.

“My favorite color is a very specific shade of terracotta,” she says.

Her attention drifts back toward the horizon, seeming a million miles away.

“It’s a color that only lives on the horizon for a few minutes while the last rays of sunlight fade away.

It’s kind of a sad color, the color of a dying day, but I can’t help but look on at it in awe when I am lucky enough to catch a fleeting glimpse. ”

Her shoulders stiffen, and she grimaces in anticipation.

“That is a beautiful color,” I tell her and place a hand on her shoulder. She sighs and leans into my touch.

“We should head back to the others,” she says with resignation. Her tone mirrors my feelings. I have to fight to hold back the instinctual “no.” Everything in me wants to keep her here, with me, for a little while longer.

Instead, I give her shoulder a final squeeze and start to move toward the other students, while she walks beside me in tranquil silence

At the edge of the crowd, she freezes in her tracks.

I turn to check on her and find her face pale and mouth agape.

I track her wide-eyed gaze back into the horde, and lead forms in my stomach.

Tanner is watching us with fury burning in his glare.

I don’t trust the look on his face, and I certainly don’t want her to deal with his ire, especially now that she is feeling like herself again.

He doesn’t get to stand her up and then treat her like the bad guy for having fun without him.

“I’ll go calm him down. Wait here for a second.” I start to step toward him, but her arm whips out, stopping me.

“No, I-I’ll deal with this.” Her voice quakes as she speaks. “Go back to Nathan and the others. I’m sure we will catch up with y’all later.”

“James, I— ”

“Just go, Morgan,” she snaps.

Unease gnaws at me as I watch her join her boyfriend. She tries to hug him, but he blocks her attempt, snarling something at her in response. He grabs her arm, and she visibly recoils.

A hazy red clouds my vision.

I stalk toward them, but Tanner meets my glare from over her shoulder and smirks before pulling her deeper into the sea of people. My heart takes off in my chest, and I break into a run to catch them. By the time I join the throng, they are gone.

The unease grows, solidifying into a heavy knot in my chest as my fingers make a pass through my hair. I don’t know where to go or how to make this right, but I need to make sure James is safe.

Without a better plan, I book it back to where I left our friends. The knot loosens some as I catch sight of them still dancing. Karis and Gage have joined the group, Karis dancing while Gage hovers off to the side. I pivot my path and beeline toward the intimidating man.

He raises an eyebrow at my near-frantic approach, his mouth opening to speak, but I cut him off.

“I need your help,” I manage to say around short, gasping breaths.

Gage stands a little straighter, his forehead furrowing at my demands. He places an arm over my shoulder and pulls me further off to the side, flashing Karis a reassuring smile when she gives us a questioning look.

“All right, what’s up?” His tone is no-nonsense.

“Tanner showed up, and James went with him.”

“And? He’s her boyfriend, that’s expected.”

“I just have a really bad feeling about it,” I say, pushing my hand through my hair. “He looked really mad, and I think he might have hurt James. She winced when he grabbed her arm.”

His eyes bore into me as he studies my face.

He’s going to say I’m being stupid, that this isn’t my place.

I try to convey how serious I am about this, and he must see it because he nods and turns back toward our friends.

He makes eye contact with Nathan and flicks his head back.

Without any hesitation, he breaks away from the girls and joins us.

“All right, Morgan, explain the situation to Nathan as we walk. Let’s go save your girl.”