Page 5 of The Roommate (One Night #1)
“I wanna kiss you I wanna kill you”
I have fantasized about Edaline Walter more times than it is healthy to admit. So many times, that I wonder if my mind is playing some vile trick on me right now.
There’s no other explanation.
The only person whom I thought I’d finally be away from is standing right here in front of me, eyes wide with shock, lips parted in that same infuriatingly tempting way that makes me want to bite them. And a bottle in her hand.
The universe has a sick sense of humor.
She’s just my roommate. No biggie, right? Except it is.
She’s the one girl I’ve been trying (and failing) to avoid since junior school.
She’s the one girl who is very, very attractive with a body built to be worshipped.
Edaline.
“You’re not my roommate.” Her voice is sharp, laced with panic.
I toss her the room slip. “The paper says otherwise, Blueberry.”
She stares at it as if it’ll magically rewrite itself. “No. No, no, no. My roommate is Clarissa. Is this some new torture method you concocted?”
“Good to know you’re still joined by the hip to your Blondie.” I drag my bags inside, ignoring the way my pulse spikes just by being near her. “But I would rather incinerate myself alive than share space with you intentionally.”
She walks up and stops right in front of me, “What do you think you’re doing? I’m not sharing a room with you.”
“Trust me, I’m equally thrilled. But I’m not sleeping in the hallway either.”
“Oh God, please tell me it’s a freaking nightmare.” She groans, throwing her head back, as I organize my stuff on my side of the room.
“It is not,” I smirk, enjoying the implication of me replying as her God. I move close to her. “Though I’m flattered you dream of me.”
Her cheeks flush crimson.
Fuck.
“I must truly be in hell then,” She snaps. “to have the pleasure of meeting the devil incarnate himself. Again.”
“Careful, sweetheart. Saints don’t kiss like you do.”
Seriously, brain? Is it you talking or my dick?
Even pissed off, she’s breathtaking.
I’ve seen her so put together, perfect, untouchable. But this? Catching her off guard is like uncovering a sin I wasn’t meant to witness. My pulse riots, the traitorous organ drums against my ribs.
I thought I’d buried this hunger, locked it away where it couldn’t ruin me.
My mistake.
One glance. That’s all it takes. One fucking glance and my control shatters like glass.
Those blue eyes—same, though a little dull like someone polluted the ocean of her eyes. Flushed cheeks, her hair tied in a messy bun, leaving strands to surround her face like halo.
I need to walk away. I need to demand a room change. But the second her scent—coconuts and sea water—hits me, my body betrays me. My cock stiffens and every promise I ever made to stay the hell away from her evaporates.
Yup, I’m definitely thinking and talking with my dick.
That’s when I notice her side of the room. And it is all blue . Every. Single. Thing. From her bed sheets to the frames of photos she has put. Our beds are separated by a common bedside shelf. And there is…what the fuck? A fucking seashell?
“Nice decor, by the way. Did you rob a beach shop on your way here?”
“Hey! I have a lovely aesthetic…”
My eyes suddenly find a book on her bed. My hands automatically reach for it before she throws the bottle at me. I duck in time as it lands loudly, leaving a dent on the wall.
She pushes me, making me capture both her hands.
“Getting kinky, aren’t we?”
“Get. Out.” Her face, neck and ears are bright red as she struggles to release herself.
Fuck, she’s so damn cute.
“You seem to have forgotten it’s my room as well.”
The moment my fingers tighten around her wrists, I feel it—the electric current that’s always crackled between us.
Edaline’s breath hitches, her pulse fluttering wildly beneath my grip.
Fuck. Fuck. Fuck.
I should let go. I should walk away before I do something stupid.
But since when have I ever done what I should ? And when has the stupid universe cared about it?
Her chest rises and falls in quick, shallow breaths, her blue eyes darkening like a storm rolling over the sea. I know that look. I’ve seen it before—right before we kissed years ago.
I still remember that night like it happened yesterday. Every vivid touch of hers, the desperation as our lips met, and we kissed like we were fighting. She had melted under my touch and submitted to me like a good girl.
“Let. Me. Go.” She grits out, but there’s a tremor in her voice that betrays her.
I smirk, leaning in until my lips brush the shell of her ear. “Make me.”
She shivers— fucking shivers —and I feel it everywhere. My cock throbs in response, aching with the years of need for her.
“This isn’t funny.”
“And you think I want this? To be stuck with someone who hates me?”
Her lips part, but no sound comes out.
Good.
Because I’m not done.
“You think I enjoy knowing that no matter how many times I tell myself to stay the hell away from you, I can’t?” My grip tightens, pulling her flush against me. “That every time I see you, I remember exactly how you taste?”
Her breath stutters.
I can see the war in her eyes—the same one raging inside me.
Hate and want. Anger and need.
A sharp knock makes us jump apart. Edaline realizes what just happened between us and hides her emerging emotions behind her pure glare.
Too bad.
I already know what’s behind her mask.
Rosalind Hates, as her name suggests, hates everyone as if the entire world has personally wronged her. And, like a cherry on top, she is our warden.
I met her earlier, and she is not exactly a friendly person who would happily wake up from her beauty sleep to welcome you at midnight.
The door’s already open, and I see her standing there along with a few of our neighbors (I assume). Edaline stands here by my side, having another shocker of her day, or night, or morning (as some people might debate).
Silence descends before the storm hits.
“What. Are. You. Two. Doing ?”
The moment Rosalind’s eyes land on the dent in the wall, the air in the room shifts . It’s not anger—not the explosive, fiery kind. No, this is something far worse.
Her silence is more unnerving than any scolding. She steps forward, her polished shoes clicking against the floor like a ticking time bomb.
Edaline straightens beside me, her fingers twitching at her sides. She knows what’s coming, and it doesn’t seem good.
Rosalind can’t be that bad. Can she?
She tilts her head, examining the damage. Then, ever so slowly she turns her gaze to us.
“Who,” she says, her voice deceptively soft, “did this?”
Edaline opens her mouth, but I cut in. “It was an accident.”
Rosalind’s lips curve. Not a smile—a warning.
“An accident ,” she repeats, “How interesting.”
She steps closer, and despite myself, my muscles tense. Not because I’m afraid—I don’t do fear. But because Rosalind seems like the type who doesn’t need violence to make you regret your existence.
“You see, this dorm has rules . Rules that exist because of children like you who think consequences don’t apply to them.”
Edaline stiffens. “We didn’t—”
“ Silence. ” The word cracks like a whip. Edaline’s jaw snaps shut.
“You will both report to the maintenance office at dawn. You will spend the next week repairing every damaged wall and repainting every scuff mark in this building.”
My teeth grind. “That’s bullshit.”
Her gaze slides to me, and a shiver runs down my spine. Well, fuck. “Would you prefer I take this to the disciplinary board?” she asks sweetly. “I hear expulsion is quite a stain on one’s record.”
Edaline pales.
I clench my fists but say nothing.
“Good.” That being her last words, she leaves. I see some of the neighbors giving us a look of pity, before Edaline shuts the door and locks it this time.
Edaline exhales shakily, her shoulders sagging. But when her eyes meet mine, they’re not defeated. They’re furious.
“This,” she hisses, “is all your fault.”
I step into her space, “You’re the one who threw the bottle, Blueberry.”
Her breath hitches, but she doesn’t back down. “Stay away from me.”
I smirk. “Quite difficult considering we’re roommates .”
“I’m going to kill you, Aiden Lennox.”
All I do is laugh at those words.