Page 6 of The Roommate (One Night #1)

“Sometimes I hate that you know me so well”

Aiden Lennox is a grade-A asshole (as if he wasn’t before).

A beautifully crafted, insufferable menace who lives to see me unravel.

Two days. Just two goddamn days. That’s how long it took for him to sink his claws under my skin. Again . This time, though, deeper than ever.

I thought he was evil before, but after living in his vicinity, he is the goddamn devil.

And the worst part? He knows it. He revels in it.

His presence alone enrages me. Makes me want to bang my head on the wall. Or maybe bang his head against the wall. I’m not a violent person by any means. But Aiden Lennox makes me want to kill one of us.

That arrogant smirk, those stupid dimples and every single glance, every taunt is a calculated move in this sick game of his.

The asshole thrives on chaos. And me? I’m his favorite one.

He’s a poison. A slow, intoxicating venom that I can’t purge from my system.

I was determined to ignore him. But he’s everywhere—shirtless after a shower, sprawled on his bed like he owns the place, smirking when I glare (showing off those dimples, might I add), and looking at me with the same hunger as the way he did the-night-we-don’t-speak-of.

I broke every rule of mine that night. I wore a dress. I went to a party. I drank. I kissed him.

Rosalind warned us. One more fight and you’re out . But Aiden doesn’t know how to quit, and neither do I. It’s a wonder that we’re still here. Considering that instead of painting the wall, once, we made a mess of the entire room by throwing paint on each other.

I hate him.

I hate how he shows no emotions other than ease, always remaining in control.

I hate how he always acts like he couldn’t care less.

I can’t lose to him.

We have had this sort of relationship since fourth grade. He’s more than just my academic rival. Aren’t academic rivals supposed to fight in academics only? But no, he has made it his vow to make my life hell.

He’s the thorn in my side, the boy who stole my first curse word (he deserved it, though), my first kiss, my goddamn sanity.

And I let him.

I freaking let him.

When his mother died, I saw the cracks in his armor. For that one night, the mask slipped and behind was a beautiful, broken boy, who was torturing himself.

And the fool I am, I reached for him. Not out of pity, but because for that one time, I could read him. I could understand him. I could feel his pain like my own. And he let me in. He didn’t push me away.

Lily was the sweetest and brightest woman I’ve ever met.

She smiled at me every time, and it felt like healing from a wound I didn’t have.

I loved her and her sudden death devastated us both.

This is an understatement because Aiden and I both were shattered, him more so than me.

I know exactly how it feels to lose a parent.

I know how he felt. And I wouldn’t wish that pain upon my worst enemy.

But apparently, he couldn’t digest it. He became more and more persistent with his whatever the damned reason was to mess with me.

And now? Now we’re roommates.

I need Clarissa. With her, everything is possible. She always has a solution to everything. She would know what to do in my situation. And it doesn’t help that this is the moment when she’d decided to switch off her phone.

I’d be concerned had I not known that she does that—switch off the phone—when she’s depressed. Does it make me selfish for needing her when she’s struggling on her own? Yes, goddamn yes.

I’m stuck with Aiden.

Until I find some solution to this, I’m stuck with his smug grin, his infuriating control, his body—Jesus, his body should be illegal.

The sharp cut of his jaw, those sinful lips that looks too soft for his features, the way his abs flex when he stretches like some goddamn Greek God.

He is annoyingly beautiful with his olive-green eyes.

Those eyes. And his dark, silky hair that makes me want to run my fingers through them (which is again—super annoying).

His dimples show when he smiles and it’s infuriating.

His entire existence is irritating—his looks, his personality, everything.

My life has gone to shit since he crossed the threshold of our room—or more accurately, since he entered my life years ago.

Having him around always gives me an existential crisis.

I had a boyfriend, Michael, a few months after the-night-we-don’t-speak-of.

I’ve kissed Michael too, but I hated how sloppy he was for an eighteen-year-old, or maybe compared to a certain eighteen-year-old.

It was pathetic of me to compare my boyfriend (ex) with my rival.

One more thing added to the list of reasons for ‘Why I hate Aiden Lennox?’.

He has ruined my kisses for me. Well, Michael and I broke up before our senior year finals.

I have grown up with Aiden, technically. He was my neighbor after all. He’d seen my ugly teenage phase. But he never went through that awkward stage. One day, he was this innocent-looking, adorable boy and the next he was a freaking Adonis.

Sharing a room with a rival like him is a special kind of torture. Even though he has distracted me enough for my nightmares to stop.

It’s an unspoken game now— who gives in first?

One of us will break, and it won’t be me.

I know he sees it—how much he affects me, despite my failed attempts to hide it. He’s always seen right through me after all, hasn’t he? Like some wizard with a crystal ball that reveals every corner of my mind to him.

But I’ll never, ever admit what he wants to hear. I’ll never utter a word about how badly I crave his hands on me, how I still feel the ghost of his lips on mine.

It will be him, not me.

Not that I want him to act on it. No, that will not be happening. Not again. That night was a mistake. One that gives us a lesson and tells us to never repeat it again.

Yet I can’t erase the memory of that night. I can’t forget the look in his eyes like he wanted to consume me.

God, I hate him.

I hate the way my logic goes to hell when he’s near.

I hate it when he calls me that stupid nickname. Blueberry .

I hate that I’m the one he hates so much. I know he does.

I have seen it in his eyes—his plans to sin. And I use that to my advantage, even though I’m sure it mirrors my own. It scares me because I don’t know where this is leading. I fear the outcome of our game, this line that we’re toeing. I don’t know what will happen when one of us finally crosses it.

I tell myself I hate him for it.

But the truth?

I’m terrified of what happens when one of us finally snaps.