“What does it look like?” I pour fizzing, ice-cold water over my head and hair, getting goose bumps immediately. Maybe I should have warmed it up in the microwave first.
“You’d better replace my Perrier,” he says.
“Yeah, sure.”
A throaty chuckle follows.
“What’s so funny?” I ask.
“Do you realize that bent over like that, you’re giving me quite a view?”
I snap back into a straight position, wincing as my now cold hair slaps against my back. “Were you ogling me?” I turn to glare at him.
He’s not smiling now, and his hungry eyes make my mouth go dry. My pulse skyrockets as I wrestle with feelings of anger and desire. I was too pissed when I banged on his door to notice Troy was only wearing boxer shorts. Now his shredded abs and chest are all I can see.
My eyes have a will of their own. They travel south… and hot tamales. My lady parts turn into flames. Troy is aroused—big time. Emphasis on big.
Damn it. I can’t fall for the trap that’s Troy’s godlike body.
“I couldn’t help but look. You were flashing your… goods.”
Heat creeps up my cheeks as I hug my middle, feeling completely exposed. “Well, don’t get any ideas. That’s all the view you’ll get.”
Summoning all the dignity I have left, I walk around him with my chin raised high. I purposely keep my pace normal, fighting the urge to run. Once in my bedroom, I begin to form a plan to protect myself from Troy’s charms. I text Vivian, asking if her offer to set me up with one of her friends still stands. It’s high time I get back into the dating scene.
TROY
Damn Charlie.
Why does she have to be so fucking hot? Now I’m sporting a raging boner, fantasizing about plunging my cock into her sweet pussy while she’s bent over the sink like before. It’s a sin for someone who I loathe so much to be that irresistible. And the worst part is that she wants me too. I saw the craving reflected in her blue eyes when she noticed my erection.
I. Cannot. Go. There.
She left a mess on the kitchen counter and on the floor. I focus on that, which helps dissolve any desire I had left. I clean up and then decide to head out for lunch. I didn’t sleep nearly enough, but I can’t go back to bed now.
After I put some clothes on, I go to one of my favorite joints, Zuko’s Diner. It’s an automatic decision. I always come here after a night of partying since they serve breakfast all day. But being here reminds me of Charlie again.
Hell. I need to get her out of my head.
I keep my sunglasses on as I stride to my usual booth; my head is pounding, so if I have to look like a douche, so be it.
“Troy?” a familiar voice calls out.
I turn slowly, and then my jaw drops. “Brooke? Holy shit. What are you doing here?” I change direction and stop next to her booth.
“I transferred to Rushmore,” she replies excitedly.
“Really? Couldn’t handle those New Yorkers, huh?”
She makes a face, furrowing her eyebrows and scrunching her nose as if she smelled something bad. “Ugh, no. They got two years of my life that I’ll never get back. I’m a California girl through and through, no matter how much my old man wants me not to be. Are you meeting someone?”
“No. I’m solo today. I have the worst hangover.”
She giggles. “I was gonna say, you do look rough. Sit with me. I can’t believe I bumped into you here.”
I slide into the seat opposite hers. “When did you get back?”
“Last week.”
“And you didn’t call me? I’m wounded.” I press my hand against my chest, pretending to be hurt.
She waves her hand dismissively. “Stop. I was going to. I had to get situated.”
“Where are you staying?”
“At a friend’s condo for now. It’s fifteen minutes from campus, but I’m hoping to find something closer. Is your grandmother still against you having roommates?”
She smiles in a persuasive way, making me uncomfortable. Like I’d ever want to live with my ex. Charlie is bad enough.
“Actually, I just got one.”
Her eyebrows shoot up. “Oh, really? Let me guess. Andy?”
I snort. “Yeah, right. Grandma would never allow him to move in. Actually, my new roommate is a girl.”
The easygoing smile wilts from her face. “Oh, you have a new girlfriend?”
Brooke seems hurt, which makes me uneasy.
We started dating in high school. She was a junior, and I, a senior. When she went to NYU, we tried the long-distance thing for six months. In the end, we decided to break up and remain friends. I hope she didn’t transfer to Rushmore, wanting to rekindle our relationship. The spark is gone. I’m not sure if it was even there to begin with.
I laugh. “No, nothing like that. She’s Grandma’s friend, and she needed to rent a room last minute.”
Brooke leans against the booth, looking relieved. “Oh, so you didn’t even know her?”
“Nope. Total stranger.”
“Is she nice?” Brooke asks casually, but I hear the double meaning of her question nonetheless.
Alarm bells sound in my head.
“Brooke, please tell me you didn’t move back to Cali for me.”
Her eyebrows shoot to the heavens. “What? Of course not. Gee, aren’t you conceited?”
I shrug. “Just checking. I’m stoked that you’re back, but we’re just friends.”
She narrows her eyes, flattening her lips. “Keep acting like an ass, and that friendship card might be revoked.”
“Okay, okay.” I flash her a dazzling smile. “Did you order already?”
“Yeah.”
I flag the waitress and put my usual order in. She returns a moment later with a big cup of steaming coffee.
Brooke waits until she’s gone to speak again. “So, you didn’t answer my question. Is your roommate nice?”
I debate telling Brooke the truth about Charlie. The answer that comes out of my mouth surprises me. “Yeah, I think so.”
Why did I lie?
“Well, I can’t wait to meet her.”
8
TROY
Another week passes, and I barely see Charlie. I should consider myself lucky, but at the same time, I secretly want to bump into her. Each one of our encounters has given me a perverted rush, and the adrenaline junkie in me craves that kind of stuff.
I just got home from the game, which we’d almost lost. If it wasn’t for that field goal near the end, we might have. I’m pissed even though I did everything I could. I love football, but lately, extreme sports have been giving me the type of satisfaction I need. I can’t stop; I have to keep moving, or bad memories will take over.
Charlie’s accusation comes to the forefront of my mind, darkening my mood. If I’m honest with myself, my anger stems from the fact that she guessed about my inner conflict. It’s not like I don’t care about football anymore; it’s just not my favorite pastime. I’d never jeopardize the team on purpose though. For her to assume that based off one game was bullshit.
Distracted, I open the small closet under the stairs to stash my duffel bag when a tower of boxes collapses on top of me.