Page 35 of Dear Roomie (Classic City Romance #1)

Gage grumbles something I think is supposed to be a sign of agreement, and that seems to be the cue everyone was waiting for.

Morgan and our friends get up and clear away their messes.

I don’t get up, though. Instead, I take the moment to watch my friends as they live out their chaotic moments of merriment.

Chelsea chastises Nathan with a playful smirk, and he swoops her up into his arms, peppering her neck with kisses as he spins them both around.

On the couch, Gage and Karis are locked in a quiet but intense conversation.

Karis throws her hands around as she talks, nearly knocking Gage across the face.

He manages to duck out of the way, and a hint of his rare smile pulls at the corner of his lips.

Even Grover has found his person with Evelyn.

He is blissed out while she showers him with affection from her spot on the floor.

The apartment feels more like home now than it ever has before. The only thing missing is Morgan.

The back of my neck tingles with awareness half a second before Morgan reaches around me to grab my plate from the table.

“Go join them.” Warm breath brushes past my ear, the deep timber of his voice causing goose bumps to blossom over my skin. “You’ve done enough today. I’ve got this.”

He’s gone before I can protest, moving back to the kitchen to clean up from our meal. I don’t know the last time I’ve been able to sit back and enjoy a party that I’ve hosted. God knows Tanner has never helped with any of the hosting duties; getting him to show up was a hard enough task.

“Jamie, what movie are we watching?” Chelsea asks.

I decided it was best to forgo any sort of gift exchange for the Christmas part of Friendsgivmas.

At first, it seemed like the obvious thing to do, but the more I thought about it, the more wrong it felt.

Morgan doesn’t care about material things—he misses his family, and no twenty-dollar Secret Santa gift is going to give him that.

I eventually landed on doing Christmas movies with the gang, but I never got around to picking what movie we’d watch.

“Before she says anything, Die Hard isn’t a Christmas movie,” Nathan interjects.

“Oh, come on”—Karis rolls her eyes in exasperation—“and Paul Blart: Mall Cop is?”

“Both of you, knock it off.” Karis’s and Nathan’s heads snap toward Gage as he cuts off their arguing. “We have this argument every year, and they are banned, so no point in getting into it now.”

They both let out petulant huffs but let the matter drop.

“We could watch The Grinch ,” Evelyn offers.

“Animated or Jim Carrey?” Karis asks, directing her focus toward my more reserved friend. Evelyn blanches under the almost predatory intensity of the sharp woman’s stare.

“Um…Jim Carrey…” Evelyn mumbles, her tone raising in a way that makes it sound more like a question than a statement.

“Good choice.” Karis flashes her a toothy smile. “I vote Grinch. ”

“Fine, I guess we can watch that.” Nathan sighs. “But it’s no Paul Blart .”

Gage and Chelsea nod in agreement, and Morgan rejoins us while I’m setting up the movie, dropping an arm full of pillows and bedding onto the floor in front of the couch.

Once everyone is settled, Morgan turns off the overhead light and settles into his nest of blankets at my feet. His head rests in the small gap between my knee and the arm of the couch, a few short inches away from my hands. My fingers itch to close the gap and bury themselves in his silky curls.

I don’t think any of us truly watch the movie; it’s impossible to with Karis and Nathan interjecting every few minutes with their best quippy one-liners.

The two of them feed off each other’s antics, and it’s not long before the rest of us join in, trying to one-up and get the most laughter out of each other.

It’s the most fun I’ve had in a long time.

The credits roll, and everyone lapses into silence for the first time since it began .

“This was great, Jamie,” Evelyn says, stretching as she stands from her spot on the floor, “but I should head out. I’ve got a final tomorrow and need to get some last-minute cramming in.”

Evelyn grabs her things, and Morgan walks her to the door.

The thorny tendrils of jealousy lash out as they stop to talk for a few moments longer at the threshold, and I actively have to fight to prune back its sharp vines.

Karis and Gage follow behind her not too long after, leaving Chelsea and Nathan as the last ones remaining.

“Are you sure there’s nothing we can do to help?” Chelsea asks as I try to herd her toward where her boyfriend waits by the cracked door.

“No, Morgan already cleaned up the kitchen. Plus, you did more than enough by bringing the turkey.”

“Well, thank you for having us. We had fun.” She pulls me in for a tight hug.

Nathan echoes her sentiment, and they finally make their way into the hallway. Morgan shuts the door, and the soft click of the latch resounds through the now-silent apartment, signaling Friendsgivmas’s end.

I let out a heavy sigh of relief and sag on the couch, the tension melting from my shoulders as the last remnants of my anxiety dissipate.

He picks up the last of the trash from around the living room without breaking our tranquil bubble of silence, then drops down on the couch beside me, mirroring my sprawled posture.

Grover’s pitiful whine bursts the moment of peace and brings me back to reality. The party might be over, but my plans for tonight aren’t. There’s still one more holiday for us to celebrate tonight.

“Would you mind taking Grover out for me?”

He nods as he moves to grab the leash and clips it onto Grover’s collar.

“Be right back,” he says, slipping on a pair of ugly foam shoes and flashing me one of his brilliant, dimpled smiles before walking out of the apartment .

He pulls the door shut behind him, and then the heavy thunk of the deadbolt latches into place. I stay frozen in place as I watch the door, but my body tenses like a coiled spring.

One second passes.

Then another.

Yet another ticks by, and I’m convinced he isn’t about to turn around and walk back through the door anytime soon.

I shoot up from the couch in one explosive burst of movement and dart to my room to collect my secret stash of supplies.

My room looks like a carnival just came through, and not in a fun way.

The floor is littered with the assortment of multicolored balloons I’ve blown up over the past few days, and long strands of paper chain garland sit in neat stacks near my bed.

The growing disarray has been eating at my sanity over the past few days, but it will be worth it if it brings him joy.

He doesn’t know about these plans. Everything has to be perfect before he gets back, and that could be five minutes or thirty, depending on Grover’s mood.

With no time to waste, I grab balloons by the armful, kicking some out into the hallway as I wade back and forth to scatter them throughout the living room.

Once I finish with the balloons, I collect the delicate paper chains and drape them over the blades of the ceiling fan above the couch.

It’s tacky as fuck, and Morgan will love it.

I pull up a video of last year’s New Year’s Eve ball drop on the TV and grab the last bag of supplies—the one that takes my plan to a whole new level of cheesiness—spreading its contents over the coffee table.

The lock turns in the door, and I throw myself back onto the couch, picking up a plastic noisemaker in the process.

He starts to walk through the door but freezes as I blow into the small device, filling the apartment with a loud trill.

“Surprise!”

He surveys the room with wide eyes, his lips curling into a smile as he takes in the chaos. “What is all this?” he asks, shutting the door and letting Grover off the lead .

“We did Thanksgiving and Christmas already, now it’s time to celebrate New Year’s Eve.”

“James…” he says, his voice thick with emotion, and his eyes take on a glassy sheen.

My heart swells, and I have to shove back the unexpected surge of emotions his reaction summons.

“Come sit.” I pat the spot next to me on the couch in invitation. “I got us hats and noisemakers, and even those stupid glasses with the year number on them.” My arms wave over the coffee table, emphasizing the collection of overpriced junk I bought to make today special.

He ignores it all as he takes the seat beside me, his gaze locked on the floor. He places one of his hands on my knee, giving it a gentle squeeze before moving his thumb in soothing circles, although this time, I don’t think the motion is meant to comfort me .

“James, seriously,” he says, still refusing to look at me. “Thank you.”

“For what? Throwing a party?” I ask with a forced laugh.

“No.” He lifts his head, and his eyes blaze with an emotion I can’t place.

“Thank you for going through all this effort to try to make the holidays better for me. Thank you for letting me into your home, no matter how much you didn’t want to at first, and letting me live life with you these past few months.

More than that, thank you for making this place feel like home for me.

That isn’t something I’ve had in a long time. ”

“Morgan…” My voice cracks as the lid I had on my emotions snaps. I reach out to grab his hand, turning his palm to lace my fingers through his.

I’m not sure if it’s his words, or if my conversation with Nathan earlier opened my eyes, but something clicks in my head—I know that look on Morgan’s face.

It’s love.

Morgan Hall loves me…and I love him too.

He may have found his home here in Athens, but somehow along the way, he has started to feel like mine.

“Sorry,” he says, clearing his throat. “I didn’t mean to derail your plans. What’s next?”

“Ball drop,” I choke out, motioning toward the TV.

“Okay, then,” he says, his face relaxing into an easy smile. “Let’s ring in the New Year.”

I hit play on the video, but neither one of us looks at the screen.

The hosts prattle on about something and start counting down the final minute, but it’s nothing more than a hum of noise in the background, my attention locked on the man beside me.

He’s sitting so close that our bodies seem to meld into a single point of molten heat where he presses against mine, and his eyes are filled with such unbridled adoration that my heart nearly bursts in my chest. His tongue darts out, moistening his lips, and I want nothing more than to close the gap between us and find out exactly what they would feel like against mine.

An eruption of celebratory noises blares from the video.

“Happy New Year, James,” he says with a bright smile. “Make a wish.”

God, I wish I could kiss him right now. My body yearns to be closer to him—to feel all of him. It’s a magnetic pull that I’m barely able to resist. Why am I resisting?

Fuck wishes .

I lunge forward and press my lips against his.

It’s like grabbing hold of a live wire; shock waves of electricity pulse throughout my body, building unquenchable heat in my core.

He is unresponsive to my touch. Until I run the tip of my tongue across his lips, which snaps him out of his paralysis.

He lets out a groan and pulls me onto his lap, deepening the kiss as he meets my tongue with his own.

I tangle my fingers into his hair, pulling him even closer as I grind down on him.

I can feel him harden beneath me, creating the perfect amount of friction to send my need for him into overdrive .

“James…” He tries to pull his mouth away from mine, but I chase his lips, refusing to let him go.

He gives in, and his hands move up my body, finally exploring, finally touching me in ways my body has been craving.

I move my hands from his hair and snake them under his shirt so I can do some exploring of my own.

My fingers meet his heated skin, tracing along his defined abs, but it isn’t enough.

I start to unbutton his dress shirt, and he goes rigid, grabbing my wrists in one of his large hands.

“We can’t do this,” Morgan says, sounding pained.

Why the fuck can’t we?

Nothing has ever felt more right than this. I ignore his protest and try to kiss him again, but he dodges my attempt, leaning away with a frustrated groan.

“James, stop,” he commands, and I go still in his lap. “What about Tanner?”

“I’m breaking up with him,” I tell him, sounding just as sure about the decision as I feel in this moment.

“Breaking up, as in future tense?” he asks, keeping my hands locked in his tight grasp.

“Yes,” I admit, “I’m waiting until after the holidays to do it, but I made the decision over the break.”

His face falls, and he lets out a disappointed sigh. He releases my hands and grabs my hips, pulls me from his lap, and places me back on the couch, then slides to the far end, putting as much distance between us as possible.

“It was wrong for us to do this,” he says, his breaths coming in heavy pants. “We can’t do this again.”

Despite the reluctance in his voice, the rejection stings. My shoulders slump and my face grows hot with shame. A lump forms in my throat as tears pool in my eyes.

“James…” His voice is strained. He starts to reach toward me but pulls his hand back and runs it through his hair with a sigh. “Please don’t cry. It’s not that I don’t want this. Believe me, I do, but this can’t happen while you’re in a relationship. I won’t be the other man. ”

I bite my lip and nod, holding back the tears threatening to spill over.

“I’m doing it before I come back for the spring semester.” My voice is resolute. “Just a few more weeks.”

“Okay, then. A few more weeks.”