Page 28 of Dear Roomie (Classic City Romance #1)

Morgan

J ames hasn’t talked about what happened at the beach.

Really, she hasn’t talked to me at all. Our schedules seem almost cosmically misaligned; it’s been almost a week since the incident, and without fail, if one of us is coming, the other is going.

If it weren’t for the daily notes, I’d think she’s been avoiding me.

But every morning, something waits for me on the bathroom mirror, either asking me about my day or telling me about hers.

Yesterday, the normal orange sticky note was replaced by a piece of notebook paper that she taped to the mirror and filled both sides with the details of her night out with Chelsea and Evelyn.

Today, though, the note is short, but it’s enough to send my heart into overdrive.

The note joins my collection, and I leave the apartment feeling lighter than I have in days. The walk to class passes in a blur, my head too busy running through tomorrow in my head a million different ways.

Will things be different now?

I don’t know what to expect after what went down last weekend, but something has to have shifted. No one walks away from something like that with everything staying exactly the same.

My phone rings, breaking me from my daydreams, and my chest tightens at the name on the screen. With a heavy sigh, I answer the call.

“Hi, Mom.” The manufactured cheer in my voice rings hollow .

“Hi, baby.” The familiar soft rasp of her voice soothes an ache in my chest that I had learned to ignore. “I’ve missed hearing your voice. You never call anymore. How are classes? Have you made many friends? Have you met anyone special? Tell me everything, it’s been too long.”

“I’ve missed you too.” The growing thickness in my throat chokes the words. I try to shrug away the sudden wave of melancholy, focusing on answering her questions instead of how much I wish I could tell her these things in person.

“Classes have been good. Tough, but good. I’ve made some friends, they also train and have been bugging me to join their gym,” I tell her.

“What about a special someone? I’m sure there are lots of nice girls in your program.”

My eyes roll, and I fight to suppress a groan. I love my mom, but every phone call turns into an inquisition.

“Sorry to disappoint you, but no, I haven’t met anyone special.” Technically, that’s a lie, but my mom doesn’t need to know I’m hung up on an unavailable woman. Sometimes, meeting someone special isn’t the issue. It’s everything that comes after.

“I swear, every time we talk, it’s like I’m on trial,” I tease.

“I wouldn’t have to ask so many questions if you would call your poor mom sometimes,” she jokes back, but the words skewer my heart.

“I know. I’m sorry, Mom. I promise I’ll call more,” I lie again.

Hearing her voice is too hard. It reminds me of everything I’ve missed over the past few years. I think she feels the same because she only calls every couple of months now. Maybe she just got tired of me not answering.

“I know you’re busy with school,” she says, giving us both something to blame when I inevitably never call. “Do you have any plans for your birthday? I hope those friends of yours are throwing you a party. You only turn twenty-five once.”

“Yeah, we have plans.” The lies keep coming. It’s difficult to make plans when I haven’t told anyone about my birthday. I’m sure if they knew, they’d drag me out to Cutter’s, but that would ruin my plans of locking myself in my room and pretending the day doesn’t exist.

“That’s good. I wish we could be there for it.”

“I know, me too. How’s Dad?” Normally, I wouldn’t bother to ask, because the answer is always the same, but I’m that desperate to change the subject.

“He’s fine, been taking extra shifts at the warehouse, but that’s nothing new. He misses you, even if he doesn’t say it.”

“I miss you both too. I better get going, though, my lecture is about to start.”

“All right, call me soon. I love you, Morgan. Stay safe.”

“I love you too, Mom.”

***

Athens wasn’t built for the rain. The city floods, transforming streets into rivers and staircases into waterfalls. Even with a rain jacket, the pools of water soak through my shoes, and the bottoms of my pants get more and more drenched with every step I take toward the apartment.

Thoughts of dry clothes and a hot shower evaporate as I push the door open.

For the first time in days, James is at the apartment when I return.

She’s sprawled out on the couch, lying on her stomach while she works in one of her sketchbooks, and she flashes me a brilliant smile that makes my heart skip a beat.

My hands dart to my hair in a fruitless attempt to get the damp curls into a presentable state.

“Hey, stranger,” she greets me, pulling her headphones out of her ears.

Grover gets up from his bed and comes to greet me as well, with a toy in his mouth and his tail wagging, and I’m struck with an overwhelming sense of rightness. It’s as if a piece of me I didn’t know I was missing returns, slotting itself back into the empty space in my heart .

“Hey,” I rasp, my voice thick with the unexpected wave of emotions. I clear my throat, pushing the feeling away, and walk over to stand behind her. “What are you working on?”

I glance at the sketchbook, but she slams it closed before I’m able to get more than a short glimpse of the graphite lines on the page.

“Nothing,” she says, her face growing pink.

“Nothing? Doesn’t seem like nothing,” I tease, and her blush deepens.

“It’s not done yet,” she says, sitting up and clutching the book to her chest.

“Fine,” I concede, “but I want to see it when you’re ready.”

“Okay.” She flashes me another small smile and tucks a strand of hair behind her ear. “Did you get my note?”

“Which one,” I tease. James narrows her eyes into a mirth-filled glare. Her lips are turned down in a pout, which feels more petulant than forceful. I can’t hold back my laughter. She’s too cute when she’s trying to be intimidating.

“Yes, I got your note this morning.” I place my hand on her bare shoulder and give it a gentle squeeze.

James stiffens under my touch for a moment before leaning into it, letting out a small hum of satisfaction as she does.

My thumb traces a small circle over the curve of her arm, brushing against the yellowing marks Tanner left on her skin.

Chills erupt across her sun-kissed skin at the contact.

“I didn’t expect to see you here tonight, though. ”

“Grover hates the rain.” She turns her whole body toward me and sits on her knees, facing the back of the couch.

My hand falls away, and I wish it could take those bruises with it. Her pupils dilate as she stares up at me, catching her bottom lip between her teeth, and the look shoots straight through me.

I am overwhelmed by the sensation of James . Her presence is palpable, an electric aura that magnetizes the air, drawing me to her. I take a step back out of sheer need; otherwise, I’ll lose myself to her pull.

“So?” she asks. Her tongue darts out, moistening her lips, and my eyes track its every movement .

“So, what?” My head is hazy, drunk off her.

“My note,” she says, but the words are meaningless to my addled mind. “Are we on for tomorrow? I haven’t gotten your response yet.”

“Oh, tomorrow…” I swallow deeply. “I’d love to if you’re still free.”

She beams at me, her smiles only adding fuel to the fire raging inside me. “I’m still free,” she says and then bites her lip again.

“We could move it to tonight if we’re both around,” I suggest, and her face falls.

“I actually have a video call date with Tanner tonight…” Her eyes drop to her fingers as she picks at a loose piece of fuzz on the sofa.

All of the building heat is doused in an instant, extinguished by the cold shock of her words. It’s a fight to keep the sneer off my face, and I have to bite the inside of my cheek to keep my expression neutral.

We both still bear the bruises from his behavior, yet he’s already back in her good graces.

It’s sickening. My fingers graze the still-healing cut on my lip, and she winces.

At least she realizes how this looks. I didn’t have illusions that she would dump her boyfriend and come running into my arms—I’m not an idiot—but the James I thought I knew, the one who stared down a complete stranger and let him have a piece of her mind, has too strong of a backbone to go crawling back to the man who keeps hurting her.

“I’m gonna go dry off,” I tell her, my voice hollow. I shake my head as I step away from her, still trying to wrap my head around the fact that she forgave him.

“Morgan, wait…let me explain.” Her voice shakes, and she gets up from the couch to follow me. I quicken my pace, reaching my door before she can even move around the couch.

“There’s nothing to explain,” I tell her as I step into my room.

“Please…” Her desperate plea breaks some of my resolve.

“There is nothing you can say that could help me understand this.” My words are harsh, but there’s no venom behind them.

“He hurt you. He assaulted me. He’s lucky the cops didn’t get involved, or he’d be looking at charges for battery and possession.

I just thought you would be smarter than—you know what, never mind.

I’m not doing this.” I raise my hands in surrender and step back into my room.

“Have fun on your date.” The door slams behind me, echoing through my too-empty room with a resounding bang .

I sink to the ground with my back to the door and drag my hand through my hair with a heavy exhale.

The unmistakable sound of James’s soft cries bleeds through the walls, and my gut twists while my heart aches, but this isn’t on me.

I didn’t tell her anything she didn’t already know.

My head hits the door as I stare up at the ceiling.

I can’t sit here and listen to that and not try to make things right, but there is nothing I can do, not this time.

With a sigh, I pull out my phone and shoot a quick message off to Nathan asking him to meet me at the gym. My clothes are still dripping, but I don’t see any point in changing only to get soaked again, so I grab my gym gear and flee from the apartment without waiting for Nathan’s reply.

***

“Again,” Nathan commands as he repositions the sparring pads for my strikes.

Sweat drips down my face, stinging as it rolls into my eyes. I wipe it away with the back of my arm and roll my shoulders, squaring up with the pads. We’ve been working on this combo for the last twenty-five minutes, and I can’t get it right.

My fists fly in what should be a familiar pattern, but my timing is off again , and Nathan’s pad glances off my forehead as I miss the dodge again .

“All right, I’m done,” I growl as I rip my gloves off and hurl them across the small training room. They slam into the mirror-lined wall and bounce onto the padded floor.

Nathan watches my outburst with a raised eyebrow. He takes off his pads with a deliberate lack of haste and grabs a towel to wipe the sweat off his face. I wish I had thrown my gloves at him instead .

“Are you ready to talk about what’s been bothering you?” he asks, dropping to sit on one of the aluminum benches.

“Nothing is bothering me,” I grumble. Nathan doesn’t justify my obvious lie with a response, merely raising a skeptical eyebrow instead.

With a sigh, I join him on the cold bench and brush my sweat-soaked curls back from my face.

Of course he’s picked up on my mood. I’ve been off my game all evening, though I was hoping he’d let me take it out on the punching bags instead of wanting to talk about it.

We sit in silence for several minutes before I finally spill what’s been eating me up inside.

“James is still with Tanner. After everything that happened over the weekend, she forgave him.” I shake my head, still unable to understand it.

“So?” he asks. His voice is serious, and his face is locked in a neutral mask.

“What do you mean ‘so’? So , James is still with the guy who punched me in the face and left bruises on her. So , he could hurt her again. So , she’s making a huge mistake.” My voice rises with each sentence. How can he sit there so unbothered by this? He was there—he saw how that monster acted.

“Morgan, man,” Nathan says, clapping a hand on my shoulder. “This is going to sound harsh, but you need to hear it: James and Tanner’s relationship is none of your business.”

His words hit me like a slap in the face, and I physically recoil. I open my mouth to protest, but he shakes his head, cutting me off.

“I get the frustration, I really do. Tanner is a grade-A douchebag, but that doesn’t change the fact that James is a grown woman who can make her own choices.”

“But he might hurt her again,” I argue.

“Yeah, he might,” he agrees with a nonchalant shrug that makes my fists clench.

“But he might not. Either way, she has to make this decision for herself. She doesn’t want or need you to save her.

If you want to be her friend, be her friend, but you can’t be her friend if you are going to act like a jealous asshole. ”

“I’m not jealous, I’m worried. Tanner’s dangerous. I can’t stand by and watch him hurt her.”

“So you are going to alienate her further by acting like an ass? What happens when she actually needs your help, but you’ve pushed her so far away, she won’t ask for it?”

The fight drains out of me in an instant.

He’s right.

She doesn’t need my judgment, but she will need a friend in her corner when Tanner inevitably screws things up again.

He must sense the shift. “Good. Are you ready to go again?” He claps me on the shoulder and stands back up, reaching for the pads.

The aching in my shoulders says no, but I shake out the tension and grab my discarded gloves off the floor anyway. This time, when I throw the combo, the movement is effortless. Nathan’s pad breezes over my head, just a hair’s width away from where my face was less than a second ago.

“There he is.” A toothy smile fills his face as I finish the drill, and the ghost of my smile grows to mirror his. “Again?” he asks, and I nod.

We fall into an easy flow after that, running through our normal drills before sparring for a few rounds. My muscles are weak as I make my way back to the apartment, but my resolve is stronger than ever. I’m going to be whatever it is James needs, even if it tears me apart inside.