The Roommate Agreement(21)

A fucking crush.

It’d pass, like so many of them had before and so many in the future would.

Screw the fact that if she’d walked into the bathroom five minutes earlier yesterday, she’d have seen me with my hand wrapped around my dick while thinking about her and hating myself.

She was my best friend.

My roommate.

I’d write it in graffiti on his bedroom wall and mine and hire a plane to fucking write it in the sky if that’s what it took to make it clear.

No matter how badly I wanted to see if she tasted like Oreos and milk—I wouldn’t.

Shelby Daniels was the one woman in this world who was off-limits to me.

Nothing could change that.

Nothing would change that.

? ? ?

The sky was darkening outside as I stepped out ? ? ?of the elevator on our floor and glanced out of the window. It overlooked the town, not the beach like the apartment windows had a glimpse of.

And it was just that—a glimpse. We had a sliver of a view between two buildings that housed apartments not dissimilar to ours.

Still, it was a “sea view” if you asked the realtors.

I hoisted my gym bag up onto my shoulder. I’d had a cardio class and two personal training sessions in the afternoon, and nobody wanted to be near a guy after that, so I’d showered and changed at work.

Mostly, I didn’t want Shelby to accidentally walk in on me again because I’d forgotten to lock the door.

I stuck my key in the door and twisted it until I heard the satisfying sound of it clicking. The door edged open an inch, and when I pushed, the faint sound of music came from inside the apartment.

I couldn’t place the song, but Shelby wasn’t singing, so maybe it was new.

Trust me.

Nobody—and I mean nobody—needed to hear Shelby sing.

“Hello?” I called out, shutting the door behind me and dumping the bag with my dirty clothes. I’d put them in the laundry in the morning.

Hey—look at that. I was becoming an adult, finally.

“Jay, that you?” Shelby yelled from what sounded like her bedroom.

“Yes.” I walked in her direction. “Is there another guy with a key I should know about?”

“Not that I know of.” She appeared in her doorway with her hair tied back, held with a headband, and dark-green, shiny gloop on her face—one that brightened when she saw me. “Hi!”

I swallowed. “Do you know that your face is growing some form of algae?”

She looked at her fingers, two of which had a great big clump of it on, and the other hand that held a small pot with it in. “Oh! Facemask. I guess you’ve never seen me use it.”

“No, and I’m not sure I want to see it.”

“You should try it.” She stuck her fingers out. “Your skin is dry. Let me make you pretty.”

I took a step back. “My skin is fine, thank you, Dr. Pimple Popper.”

“No. It’s dry on your forehead. Come on; it’s not that uncomfortable. I won’t tell anyone.” She advanced toward me.

“Shelby, if you put that shit on my face, so help me, I will smack your ass so hard you won’t be able to sit down.”

She waggled her eyebrows, smiling.

Or she tried to.

Whatever it was on her face, it was setting.

“You’re turning into something resembling an ogre.”

Before I could say another word to her, she darted out, quick as a bullet, and smeared her fingers down my cheek.

She laughed, trying not to move her jaw. “Got you!”

I smeared my fingers through the stuff on my cheek, my face crinkling in disgust. “Why would you do this? I don’t need this shit on my face!”

“It’ll make you pretty!” Her eyes shone with the laughter she wouldn’t let her face express. “Now, come here and let me finish.”

She dove her fingers into the pot and pulled out another clump.

“Nuh-uh. No way. You’re not touching me with that shit!”

“Yes, I am!” She wiggled her fingers and chased me into the kitchen.

I gripped the edge of the island. “Shelby. No!”

“Come onnnnn,” she pleaded. “Just one time. I won’t tell anyone. What use is it living with your best friend if you don’t do anything fun together?”

“We do lots of fun things together.” I moved to the right as she slowly mirrored me. “We watch TV, we watch movies, we cook… You teach me about cleaning, and I pretend to listen.”

She narrowed her eyes for a split second before she winced and put her expression back to normal. The paste was lightening now. “I won’t complain at you for an entire day if you do this with me.”

“Not good enough.” I pointed a finger at her and carried on rounding the island, keeping pace with her. “You won’t even be able to talk soon. Give it up, Shelbs. You’re not putting the girly crap on my face.”

“I am!” She launched herself at me with incredible speed, and once again, she caught me, but this time on the other cheek. “If you’d just—stand—still!”

The first cheek she’d hit was going hard, my skin feeling tight and uncomfortable. “Why does it feel like someone poured cement on my cheek?”