Maybe Not (Maybe #1.5)(9)

Shit.

Why am I allowing thoughts like this to fester in my brain?

She finishes wiping the makeup from her face before grabbing her own toothbrush. Now we’re both fighting for sink space, brushing with more force than our teeth have probably ever been brushed. We take turns angrily spitting into the sink, throwing elbows at each other between every turn.

When I’m finished, I rinse off my toothbrush and put it back in the holder. She does the same. I cup my hands under the stream of water and bend forward to take a sip when she shoves me aside, causing me to splash water all over the counter. I wait until she has water in her own hands, then I shove her arms, watching the water splash everywhere.

She grips the counter and takes a deep, calming breath. It doesn’t help, though, because she splashes her hand through the faucet stream, sending a handful of water straight at my face.

I close my eyes and try to put myself in her shoes. Maybe she’s had a rough day. Maybe she hates her job. Maybe she hates her life.

Whatever her reason for acting the way she does doesn’t excuse the fact that she still didn’t say thank you for the ride. She’s treating me like I ruined her life, and all I’ve done is try to accommodate her.

I open my eyes and don’t even look at her. I reach over, turn the sink faucet off, and then grab the hand towel and begin drying my face. She’s watching me closely, waiting for me to retaliate. I take a slow step toward her, towering over her. She presses her back against the sink and keeps her eyes focused on mine as I lean forward.

Our chests are almost touching now. I can feel the heat radiating from her as her lips slowly part. She’s not pushing me away this time. In fact, it looks like she’s daring me to keep going. To come closer.

I place my hands on either side of her, locking her in. She still doesn’t resist and I know if I tried to kiss her right now, she wouldn’t resist that, either. Under any other circumstance, I would be kissing her right now. My tongue would be as far into that mouth as I could get it, because f*ck it’s a nice mouth. I don’t know how so much venom can spew from lips as soft as hers.

“Bridgette,” I say, very calmly.

I can see the roll of her throat as she swallows, still looking up at me. “Warren,” she says, her voice a mix between resolved and desperate.

I smile at her, just inches from her face. The fact that she’s allowing me this close only proves that my theory earlier this afternoon is correct. She wants me. She wants me to touch her, to kiss her, to carry her to my bed. I wonder if she’s as mean in the bedroom as she is out of the bedroom.

I lean in another inch and she gasps quietly, trading glances between my eyes and my lips. I pull my bottom lip into my mouth, slowly sliding my teeth across it. She watches my mouth with fascination. My heart is in my throat and my palms are sweating, because I’m not sure I can do this. I’m not so sure I can resist her.

I lean in even closer, reaching around her with my right hand until I find the mouthwash on the counter. Just when our lips would meet if I were to kiss her, I pull back and step away, removing the lid from the mouthwash. I keep my eyes focused on hers and take a sip before putting the lid back on it and setting it down on the counter.

I can see the desire in her eyes become swallowed up by fury. She’s pissed at me, pissed at herself. Possibly even embarrassed. When she sees I was teasing her, the corners of her eyes crinkle with her intense glare. I step up to the sink and spit the mouthwash out, wiping my mouth with the hand towel again. I turn toward my bedroom. “Goodnight, Bridgette.”

I close the door and lean against it and squeeze my eyes shut. Her bedroom door slams shut and I blow out a steady breath. I’ve never been more turned on than I am right now. I’ve also never been more proud of myself than I am right now. Walking away from that mouth and those hungry eyes was the hardest thing I’ve had to do, but also the most important. I have to keep the upper hand, because that girl has way too much power over me, and she doesn’t even know it.

I turn out my bedroom light and walk to my bed, trying to get the image of what almost just happened out of my head. After several minutes, I give up trying to fight it. I decide to use the thoughts of her to my advantage as I slip my hand into my boxers, thinking about those orange shorts. That mouth. The small gasp of breath she took when I leaned in toward her.

I close my eyes and think about what could have happened if I wasn’t so stubborn. If I would have just kissed her. I also think about the fact that she’s just a few feet away, hopefully just as sexually frustrated as I am right now.

Why does she have to be so damn mean? Mean girls are my weakness, and I think I just now figured that out.

Chapter Five

It’s been three days since our moment in the bathroom. I’ve noticed she keeps the doors locked now, which is fine. I’m sure she’s pissed off that she allowed herself to have a moment of weakness. She doesn’t seem like the type to give in as easily as she almost did.

Either way, I can’t decide if I made the right move. Half of me rejoices in the fact that I was able to walk away, but the other half of me can’t believe how stupid I was for passing up an opportunity like that. I could have had her, and now I more than likely won’t ever. But it’s for the best, because the last thing I need is to hook up with a roommate who could potentially be the sister of my best friend. But she makes it hard, pun intended, when she walks into the living room looking like she does right now. She’s not in her work clothes, but what she does have on doesn’t make it any better. She’s wearing a thin tank top over a barely there pair of pajama shorts, and she’s walked between me and the TV more times than I can count.