ROOMIES (Strangers-To-Lovers Romance Novel) Page 5

  I waved goodbye and was just about to get into my car when a blue Chevy pulled into the spot the real estate lady had just pulled out of. I watched as a tall guy who looked a couple years older than me exited the car, seeming to be in a hurry. He had black hair which was a little long, down to his collar. He was dressed in jeans and a polo shirt. He seemed to be confused as he glanced around the parking lot before his gaze landed on me.

  He hurried over to me, and I stared into bloodshot, deep-blue eyes. He looked horrible and a little run down as though he'd had a rough night. He had bags under his eyes and his face had a tired look. Despite that, however, I couldn't deny he was very handsome. He could definitely be a heart-stopper. His arms were muscular and, from what I could make out from his shirt, hinted at well-defined abs.

  "Hey, did you see a real estate agent around? " he asked in a rush. "I was supposed to view an apartment but I got up late."

  He was my roommate? I stared at him in horror. He was nothing like I had imagined. As I swept a glance from head to toe again, I acknowledged that nothing about this guy seemed quiet. More like unreliable, I thought as I realized what his bloodshot eyes were all about. That was exactly how Jake’s eyes looked when he drank too much and had a hangover the next day.

  "You sure took your sweet time getting here," I snapped at him. "Because of you, I might not be able to get that apartment after all."

  "What? You're my roommate?" His mouth slackened as he observed me with the same scrutiny I had given him. Heat suffused my cheeks as his gaze lingered on my full breasts.

  "Not anymore!" I exclaimed and got into my car.

  "Hey, what do you mean, not anymore?" he asked.

  "I don't need an irresponsible drunk sharing a lease with me,” I informed him unkindly as I started backing out of the parking spot.

  "Hey, we need to talk!" he shouted at me as I nearly drove over his foot for trying to get in my way.

  "I've a job to get to!" I yelled at him before driving away.

  I was furious with him for turning out to be all wrong. Why couldn't he have been like me? I had gone to bed early last night in anticipation of today and had set my phone to alarm in the event I overslept. That was how meticulous I was about things.

  Pulling into the parking lot on the third deck of the mall, I realized his car had followed mine. What the hell! Was he stalking me? I remembered some of the stories people who'd found roommates on Craigslist had reported. One woman had moved in with a male exhibitionist, and another had been paid rent in food stamps. What if he turned out to be one of those crazy people pretending to need a roommate only to rape or abduct his unsuspecting victim? I was determined not to be taken without a fight.

  I was even more rattled when he parked his car next to mine. I searched in my bag and palmed my pepper spray in my left hand while keeping my car keys in my right hand as I got out of my vehicle. If he tried any funny business, I was prepared to pepper spray him and gouge his eyes out with my key.

  "I'm not afraid to pepper spray you," I told him, raising the small container in his direction as he got out of his car.

  "Look here, girl, if you spray me with that thing, you'll regret it!"

  "Why are you following me?" I demanded, stepping back as he advanced towards me. "Don't come any closer!"

  "Will you put that thing away before you accidentally spray me with it?" he retorted. "And I'm not following you."

  "Then what are you doing here? You expect me to believe you just so happened to have to go to the mall?"

  "Yes, considering I work here," he responded, a hint of irritation in his tone. "I can tell you, you may be cute but not so irresistible that I would follow you around."

  "I don't believe you!" I exclaimed, my finger hovering on the squeeze cap of the pepper spray. When he took a step towards me, I pressed down on the cap and promptly dropped it, my keys, and my purse to the ground. I screeched from the irritation of the pepper spray in my eyes. With the pepper spray in my left hand I must have turned it the wrong way and the blast of liquid had peppered my face instead of his.

  "Holy shit, it burns!" I cried, tears running from my eyes. I grappled thin air as I tripped over my handbag and started to fall. Hard, muscular arms caught me against an equally hard chest. I automatically lifted up my hands to rub my eyes, but he slapped them away.

  "You may have trace of the spray on your hands," he explained. Without warning, he pulled his shirt over his head and pressed it into my hands. "Here, use this. I have a bottle of water in my car. Don't go anywhere."

  Where the hell would I go? I could barely see. My eyes burned, the left one more intensely since it had been in the direct line of the spray. The right hurt marginally, and I suspected I may have gotten the spray in that eye because of my attempt to rub my eyes. I pressed the shirt against my eyes, breathing in his musky cologne and a natural scent that had to be his essence. Gentle hands removed the shirt.

  "Put your hands to your side," he instructed me, and I could hardly argue. He poured water over the shirt and wiped my eyes gently over and over until it didn’t hurt as badly anymore and I could see him clearly. My left eye still hurt, but it wasn't the same stinging pain, just a dull ache like rubbing your eyes too hard.

  "Thank you.” I expressed my gratitude as he screwed the cover back onto his water bottle. I felt so foolish for trying to pepper spray him, and even worse that it had backfired on me.

  He nodded to me and moved to his car to pop the trunk and throw the wet shirt inside. He wore a tank top, and the muscles rippled along his back when he slammed the trunk shut.

  "I'd recommend you go easy on the pepper spray for now," he said to me with a grin that morphed into a chuckle before he laughed so hard he was hunched over, tears pooling from his eyes. His laughter was contagious, and it was a little funny, so I allowed myself to giggle. Miranda will have a field day with this, I thought.

  "I guess I owe you a shirt," I told him with a smile of gratitude. "If you come up to Hollister, I'll get you a new one. I doubt they'll let you work in the mall like that. " No matter how good he looked. I could imagine women streaming into whichever store he worked in and buying stuff they didn’t need just to get a glimpse of those arms and chest.

  "You work at Hollister?" he questioned when I'd retrieved my dropped items from the ground. We walked into the mall together.

  "Yes," I responded. "And you? Do you actually work here or were you kidding about that? "

  "I actually do work here," he confirmed. "At Sonik. It's a music store. We sell records, musical instruments, and so on."

  "Interesting."

  We continued to Hollister in silence, and I exchanged pleasantries with Reggie, who stared questioningly into my red eyes and then at Liam.

  "Choose the shirt you want and I'll ring it up for you," I informed Liam.

  "Aren't you afraid I might pick the most expensive shirt in the store?" he teased me.

  "In this case, you're entitled."

  When he had gone to look at the shirts, I went behind the cashier's desk and stashed my handbag. I engaged the cashier register for the day and glanced up to find Reggie observing me.

  "I had an accident, Reggie, and he helped me," I explained to him before he burst a blood vessel trying to figure things out. He didn't look convinced, but at least he left to work on stock at the back of the store.

  A couple minutes later, Liam walked up to the cashier desk wearing one of the most expensive shirts in the store. I winced, thinking about the dent it would create in my pocket, but I didn't make any reference to the cost.

  "You'll have to take the shirt off so I can scan it," I pointed out and wished I had simply asked him to turn around and used the hand-scanner to scan the tag. The shirt was fitted, and when he grasped the end and tugged it over his head, he somehow managed to pull off his undershirt too. I couldn't tell if it was accidental or spiteful, but I damn near dropped the scanner. Jake hadn't been soft, but Liam's six-pack would put him to shame. Damn, but my r
oommate was fine.

  After he'd helped me out, no way would I keep him out of the apartment deal if he was still interested.

  "Oops, that's too much clothes off," he announced, untangling his undershirt and putting it back over his head as I scanned the shirt and handed it to him. I reached for my bag to locate my purse to pay for the item, but he placed a hundred-dollar bill on the counter.

  "I'll make you a deal," he said seriously. "I'll pay for the shirt if you reconsider me as your roommate. I won't even ask to see the place first. I barely know you, but I would bet I can trust your judgement. What do you say, Emily? Are we roommates? Do we have a deal?"

  I stared at him long and hard as though I was contemplating it when in truth, I wanted to blurt out a yes. He seemed like a cool guy and twenty-four hours wasn't enough time to find somebody else. So what if the sight of his naked chest made me want to pant ‘hubba hubba?’ I just had to ensure that I made rules about covering up around the house. Plus, I'd admired plenty of hot guys before, even hotter than him. It didn’t mean a single thing besides a little appreciation of God's handiwork.

  "Deal," I agreed with a smile.

  7

  Liam

  “Uh…well, I’m going now,” I said awkwardly to my parents. “Thanks for letting me stay here until I found an apartment.”

  I had the overwhelming urge to hug them, but I refrained as they stood together at the door, my dad’s arm around my mother. That was the way it had been since Kyle’s passing—the two of them and me somewhere feeling unwanted on the periphery of their lives. I was getting out like they wanted, and I hoped they found the peace they sought from me leaving.

  “Take care, son,” Dad responded to me. “I hope you get your life on track because it’s hard watching our remaining child make a mess of his life.”

  “At least it won’t be your problem anymore, right?” I replied mockingly. “Maybe you’ll finally be able to forget if I’m not here as a reminder that I caused Kyle’s death.”

  A pained expression crossed my father’s face. My mother remained immobile and hadn’t spoken a word. She had been the most devastated over Kyle’s death, and she had also influenced my father’s opinion of me.

  “Liam, you weren’t the cause of Kyle’s death,” he protested slowly. “He made the decision.”

  “Ah, but we both know if it hadn’t been for me, he would have chosen differently. Isn’t that why you can’t stand the sight of me now?”

  “It is true, you are the one to blame!” Mother cried, unable to bite her tongue any longer. “Kyle was good and—”

  “Now, Eileen, it’s not fair—” Dad started to say before I cut him off.

  “No, Dad, she’s right. He was the good one and I was, and still am, the devil’s spawn. Goodbye.”

  I walked away from them, dragging my feet, hoping one of them would stop me. They didn’t have to invite me back into the house to stay. I didn’t want to live there anymore anyway, but they could have absolved me of some of the guilt I felt since much of it was a result of them placing the blame on my shoulders.

  The guys waited for me in the yard in the pickup truck Shawn had borrowed from his father, who owned a hauling and trucking company. My guitars, suitcases, flat-screen TV, posters, and other trinkets were loaded in the back. I had left my bed and the bigger furniture since the girl, Emily, had informed me the apartment was fully furnished. It didn’t matter, because most of those things in the basement were bought by my parents when I was a teenager.

  “Let’s go, boys!” I told my friends and got into my Chevy. When I glanced back at the house through the rearview mirror, the door was closed and my parents had disappeared inside. I looked away from the mirror. It was time to lose the fantasy that they would ever forgive me and try to move beyond this. Maybe I would be able to heal as well by being away from them.

  I led the way to the apartment I still hadn’t seen, although three days ago, the real estate lady had dropped by the mall with the lease for Emily and me to sign. I had hesitated for a minute as I read through the conditions and realized that whatever the outcome would be from rooming with her, I was stuck with her for a year.

  I allowed her to move into the apartment ahead of me, a smart move considering I didn’t want to help with any rearranging if we should both arrive at the same time. If she got there before me, she would do any cleaning that needed to get done. I wasn’t too particular about cleaning, although I would do it if it was absolutely necessary. I wasn’t the type to take a vacuum to the carpets every week, although I might once a month.

  Another reason I took so long to move in after her was that I wanted to wait until it was my day off and get my friends roped into the exercise as well. We had to christen the place our style, which reminded me that we needed to get some beers and ice. I signaled to the guys to stop at a gas station five minutes from the apartment. Nate and I went inside while Shawn watched the van. We wouldn’t be inside for long, but I would hate to find my stuff missing when we came out.

  We pooled our cash and bought an eighteen-pack of Corona, a medium container of Planters peanuts, and several bags of chips. When we got to the apartment, I was relieved and we were in a celebratory mood. I felt a sense of freedom at what this apartment meant for me—nobody to complain about my drinking, partying, or coming in late, and no Bible Studies to walk into as drunk as a skunk and embarrassing the hell out of my parents. With me out the way, they could continue hosting Bible Studies at their house again.

  I led the way up the stairs to the apartment and unlocked the door. Both Nate and Shawn crowded behind me, wanting to get a look.

  “Welcome to my new home, boys!” I announced before my face fell.

  The apartment wasn’t a bad one. It was spacious—ideal for two people living together who didn’t know much about each other—but it was ultra-feminine. Nothing about the apartment said a man lived there. In the two days Emily had been there before me, she’d decorated with all her princess diva stuff.

  Two potted plants greeted me as I opened the door, reminding me of constantly knocking into them at my parents’ house when I would come in drunk. Damn, I hated plants! I hoped she didn’t expect me to water them or anything.

  The potted plants were nothing compared to the splash of color in the apartment, the living room especially. Throw pillows in popping pink and other bright colors decorated the couches. Pink and green draperies hung at the sliding door leading to a balcony, and a pink and green shag rug lay beneath the center table and couches. It was a wonder she hadn’t colored the walls pink in the short time she’d had the place to herself.

  “Holy smokes!” Nate exclaimed with the same horror I felt.

  “Come on, guys, it’s not that bad,” Shawn commented. “It could have been worse. At least it’s color coordinated and everything is set out neatly.”

  “Are you listening to yourself right now?” I asked him incredulously. “It’s all pink. I’m not staying in an apartment that looks like Disney threw a slumber party in here last night. All of this has to go.”

  I located her bedroom, which was color coordinated as well but in pink and brown. Her bed had so many covers on it and was made up the way you usually found the beds made all neat and stylish in hotels. Two large pillows covered in pink and brown cases lay against the tufted upholstered headboard with four other pillows arranged to lay against those two larger pillows. I grabbed the pink cushions from the couch and threw them on her bed. The drapery wasn’t needed at the sliding doors so I took it down, letting light filter into the room. All we had to do was close the blinds that covered the glass sliding doors. I decided to let the rug stay because the floor would look bare without it.

  “You’re making a big mistake, man,” Shawn told me. “You should at least wait until she gets here before you remove her stuff.”

  “Yeah, well, she didn’t wait for me to get here before she decided to color code our apartment in pink. She’ll get over it.”

  The guys h
elped me unload the truck. Since the living room already contained a TV, I carried mine to my room and mounted it on the wall, opposite the bed. I placed my speakers to one side of the living room, deciding to let them rest there for now until I figured out how to better maximize the space in the apartment. Emily had taken over one corner by installing a work desk which boasted her PC and a small bookshelf packed with text books and the romance books women read that I considered equivalent to the porno men liked to watch. Since she had claimed that corner as her own, I could claim another where I rested my two guitars, the electric and acoustic. Even though I’d never made any attempt at being professional, I enjoyed writing my own country songs and had several rough drafts recorded in my phone. I did it more out of love and personal gratification than anything else.

  Having unloaded the truck, we each grabbed a beer and drew the couches closer to the center table where we could play poker. I removed the vase with flowers she had placed on the center table, resting it on the floor. Somewhere in our game, I turned on the speakers and attached my phone to it, selecting a playlist of Coldplay songs.

  I had never felt as light as I did in that moment with my friends. We managed several rounds of beer, although, as the designated driver, Nate cut off way before we did. To add a little fun to the game, we got out our wallets and placed bets. All the money we made from gambling amongst ourselves was put to one side in our savings for a cruise we wanted to take through the Caribbean—if we ever did take the plan to go seriously.

  “In your face again!” I yelled when I noticed both my friends were staring over my shoulder. I glanced up, knowing who I would find there. Emily stood stock still, a look of horror on her face as she stared at us. Sometime during the game, we had slid off the couch and were sitting on the cushions on the floor, leaning back against the couches. I suspected she was just as horrified to find several beer bottles on the floor.

  Her lips moved as if she was talking to me, but I couldn’t hear a thing she was saying. I pointed to my ears and shrugged at her. She stomped over to the speakers and shut them off by unplugging them from the outlet. Coldplay’s ‘Scientist’ stopped in the middle of his crooning, filling the apartment with silence. Satisfied, she snapped around to face me.