The Studying Hours (How to Date a Douchebag #1)(60)

“No, your place is better. My roommates are nosy, and… I’m not sure what they’re doing tonight. Plus, Sydney was planning on staying home, so...I mean… Unless you want to see her.”

Sydney.

Right.

Best to avoid that shit.

“I don’t want to see her. I just want to see you.”





Sebastian



Jameson is in my house.

In my room.

On my bed.

Planted near the headboard of my king size bed, she’s wearing a fitted white tee and a pretty pink cardigan. Tight skinny jeans. Her heels? Those are on the floor by the door.

Heels from those sexy, petite little feet of hers.

I watch her dangle them over the side of my bed, toes painted a neon purple, then tuck them under her legs when she curls up, moving closer to the center.

She looks fantastic.

She beams up at me from the bed, urging me to, “Sit down, would you? Your pacing is making me nervous.”

“Sorry, I can’t help it.” I lower myself to the edge of the bed and wipe my sweaty palms across my jeans. The impulse to bounce my knee is strong. I crack my knuckles instead. “I have all this pent up energy from sitting on the bus all night.”

“Do you want to go for a run?”

“Do you?”

Her nose wrinkles. “Um no—I was just trying to be supportive.”

“You would go running with me to be supportive?”

“Um…no, but I would hold the stopwatch while you ran around the block, throw a cup of water on you when you ran past?”

God she’s perfect.

Clever and beautiful and smart. With perfect lips and perfect tits, she’s got me all kinds of f*cked in the head.

We’re friends and anti-lovers, with sexual tension chucked into one f*cked up non-relationship relationship that’s all my doing because I said I couldn’t commit.

I suck so hard at this.

“Hey Jameson?”

“Yes, Sebastian?”

God, she’s been using my name nonstop lately, and I don’t think I’ll ever get sick of hearing my name slip from her lips.

“I’ve…” I gulp down my nerves. “I’ve been dreaming of you.”

Her face turns fire engine red in the same instant a sigh escapes her lips. “You’ve said as much.”

“You cheat on me.”

Her brows shoot up. “Say what?”

My back hits the mattress and my arm flops over my face to conceal my eyes. “In my dreams, you’re my girlfriend and you’re cheating on me. With one of my roommates.”

The room is silent except for the ping of a Facebook notification on my laptop.

“Which one?”

“Which one what?”

“Which roommate am I cheating on you with? Please tell me it’s not that * Zeke or whatever the brute’s name is, because no way would that happen. Not even in a dream.”

“It’s not Zeke.” My chuckle rumbles the mattress. “It’s Elliot.”

“Elliot?” I hear her smiling. “Aww, he’s the quiet, nice one?”

Aww?

I uncover my face to peer up at her, eyes squinting. She’s sitting on the bed cross-legged, a shit-eating grin on her face. “You really need to stop referring to guys as nice. We hate that shit.”

“Good thing I’ve never called you nice.” Jameson pokes me in the arm with a teasing forefinger.

I scowl when she pulls away. “I’ve noticed.”

“Are you pouting?”

“No.”

“’Cause it sounds like you’re pouting.”

“Pfft. What do I care if you don’t think I’m nice? Like I give a shit.”

Jameson goes radio silent, peering down at me with those big, blue eyes.

Eventually, she says, “Liar.”

I refuse to look at her. Study the ceiling that could use a fresh coat of paint. The fan covered in dust that could use a good scrub. The cracked drywall in the corner.

Everywhere but at her.

She nudges my bicep. “Why aren’t you looking at me?”

Because you make me feel things I don’t want to feel. Feelings I don’t know how to manage, don’t know how to deal with.

Get rid of.

Keep.

“Look Oz, just because you had a dream about me—that doesn’t mean anything.”

That gets my attention. “You don’t believe dreams mean something?”

“Do you?”

“Yes.” I push myself up on my elbows and rise to a sitting position. “The whole thing is f*cked. Up.”

She scrunches up her nose distastefully like I’ve insulted her. “Why? Because I was in your dream instead of some blonde wrestling groupie? Someone with huge boobs who requires zero effort? Gee, sorry to disappoint you.”

She’s still not getting it. “No James, it’s because I dreamed you were my girlfriend and you were cheating on me.” The words get stuck in my throat, bound as tightly as the mounting jumble of knots in my stomach.

Goddamn knots.

I’m gonna puke.

“You consider it a nightmare that I was your girlfriend?” Her voice comes out slowly. Small.