Page 37 of The Roommate Game

“You didn’t!” I exclaimed.

“Of course, I did.” Rita toddled into the adjoining room and returned with a small tin. “Apricot and raspberry. Have one and share with your friend. He will like, yes? I will get your costume.”

Gus tapped the tin meaningfully. “You heard her. Share your cookies.”

“How do you knowkolachkiare cookies?” I asked, already prying the lid off.

“Ty is Polish on his dad’s side. His grandma always sends cookie care packages. She knows I lovechrusciki…you know, the ones shaped like angel wings and covered with powdered sugar? I could eat that stuff by the pound,” he gushed, rubbing his palms together like a greedy kid.

“I bet. Help yourself. The raspberry are my fave.”

Gus chose one and stuffed it into his mouth, humming as if in an orgasmic state. “That’s so freaking good.”

Rita beamed, plucking the tin from my hands and replacing it with a plastic garment bag. “You, go change. Your friend will eat the cookies.”

“Yeah, I know he will. Just don’t eatallof them,” I grumbled halfheartedly.

I headed for the makeshift changing space in Rita’s sewing room and drew the curtain for privacy. I could still hear every word of their conversation. I might have guessed that Gus would make a new friend within minutes of meeting my seamstress.

He asked a million questions about her cookies, tips for makingchrusciki, how long she’d lived in the States, how often she visited home. He had a knack with people. No detail wastoo small for Gus. He wanted to know everything. Favorite color, favorite movie, favorite song…

I changed out of my jeans and sweater, leaving my clothes in a neat pile before unveiling the sequined dream. The midnight-blue sequined top and black trouser combo was a showstopping thing of beauty. I stared in awe for a long moment. Fabric could inspire movement, and this was proof.

The indigo background was the night sky, the pale-silver thread was a wisp of clouds, and the colorful sequins were a thousand stars. And the second I put this on, I could be someone else, someplace else. A fierce knight, a messenger, a wizard from another world. My feet itched to strap on skates, to feel the stir of a breeze at my nape, the glide of sharp blades on ice, and just go, go, go.

My gaze flitted to my reflection in the mirror, and I had to laugh. My boxer briefs weren’t very fierce…at all. I stripped out of them and quickly slipped into the costume. Gah, it fit like a glove. And was it my imagination or did I look sort of amazing?

“Are you dressed? Come show me,” Rita called. “I want to check the seams.”

I pushed the curtain aside and held my arms wide as I stepped into her workroom. “What do you think?”

Gus paused midbite, his mouth open, powdered sugar dusting his scruffy chin. “Holy fuck.”

CHAPTER 12

GUS

“Language,”Rita chided.

She bustled toward Rafe, plucking at his sleeves and asking him a ton of questions that didn’t register over the steadythumpof blood in my ears.

I blinked, hoping it might rattle my brain ’cause I couldn’t stand here gaping at my roommate as if I were meeting a perfect stranger for the first time. But damn, it felt like it. The man who’d sailed into the room with his head held proudly was one badass motherfucker.

From the tilt of Rafe’s chin and the wicked gleam in his eyes to the innately graceful way he moved, dodging bolts of colorful fabric like a dancer taking his place on stage while a captivated audience applauded in appreciation and wonder. My prickly roommate had morphed into a fairy king or a sorcerer—a man who knew he was special, powerful, and possibly had solutions to all my problems.

My heart thumped wildly, and my dick pulsed against my zipper. I’d already suspected I had a mild crush on the guy, and the kiss had cemented it. But as I stood there with powdered sugar-coated fingers gripping a tin of cookies like a lifeline, I realized I was in deeper than I’d thought.

“I’ll take that as a compliment,” Rafe preened, spinning in a half circle while Rita fussed with his seams.

“You should.” My voice was raspy and thick, but I could always blame it on the cookies if necessary. I lowered the tin to shield my crotch and shamelessly stared. “You look incredible.”

He did a double take, smiling shyly before giving his full attention to the diligent seamstress.

“This is not tight here, yes?” Rita plucked at his shoulders, his pecs, pointing out areas she’d mended. “The stitching is secure. Pretend you are on the ice and move your arms.”

“Like this.” Rafe lifted his arms, one to the front, one to the side, then above his head.

“Yes, that’s good,” she hummed, pulling him to face her again. “What about the trousers?”