The Roommate Agreement(25)

Slowly, I drew in a deep breath, focusing on the tiny scar on his cheek that existed because he’d scratched when he’d had chicken pox as a kid. It was preferable to looking into his eyes as he cleaned a bit I’d apparently missed.

I could swear I’d gotten it all—I was no rookie at the old facemask, after all—so I didn’t know what he was doing. Did he want to make this awkward? Could he tell that I was being awkward?

Why was I being awkward?

What was I doing with my life?

Oh, God. I was a bad adult.

“I can get it,” I said quickly, taking the cloth and facing the sink before he could say another word.

I was right—there was no mask left on my face, so why…?

“I got it already,” he said, just as quickly as I had. “Ocean’s Eleven is starting soon. You want me to make some popcorn?”

I grabbed the towel to dry my face, then I shook my head. The last thing I needed was a cozy night on the sofa with him right now. “I have work to do. Sorry.”

It wasn’t a lie. I did have work to do. I had to start writing up the article and work on my book and check emails and—well, I’d find something, wouldn’t I?

I’d write the phone book to avoid him at this point.

“Right. The people in your head shouting again?”

I jerked my head his way, expecting him to be snarky, but he was grinning. “Yes. And they’re trying to figure out how to kill a man named Jay.”

Laughing, he left the room. “Make it violent. If I’m going to be murdered, I want to go out in style.”

“Good to know.”





CHAPTER TEN – JAY


No Dates In The Apartment



Thank fuck she said no.

That was the only thought that rushed through my mind as I dropped onto the sofa. I ran my fingers through my hair and blew out a long breath, hoping it took the tightness of my muscles with it.

I’d never been so weirded out yet so turned on at the same time in my life.

Facemask. Fucking facemask. She’d gotten me damn good, and in hindsight, I should have just let her put it on me.

She was always going to.

If I’d let her, we never would’ve ended up in that position on the sofa.

That precarious fucking position where it took everything in me not to let my dick get hard.

It twitched now as I thought about it. About her sitting snugly on top of me, legs on either side of my hips, leaning right over my body and plastering me with that fucking stupid cement.

Jesus.

Then she’d wiped it off my face.

Fuck me dead.

I was ready to grab her and kiss her, facemask be damned. She’d leaned right up against me, her body all but pressed against mine as she’d removed it. She was so gentle at first, not wanting to hurt me, then she’d scrubbed harder.

Her eyes had touched every part of my face. I would put money on that. She was so thorough, so methodical, so precise in everything she did.

And when she’d wiped flakes of it from my jaw…

I closed my eyes and took a deep breath in.

Her touch was so soft. A fleeting one, just strong enough to register and send a shiver down my spine.

The worst part was that it wasn’t like it was the first time she’d touched me like that. No, she’d done it before. She’d teased me about my stubble for months now, coming up and scratching my chin when she thought it was getting too long. She’d grin and tug at the small hairs, somehow managing to get them between her fingers.

Then there was the time I shaved it right off and she’d stroked my chin and called me a babyface for four days until it came back properly.

Never once had her touching it felt like it had tonight.

I had to face facts. I had very real feelings for my best friend, and that was one hell of a fucking problem. Nothing good ever came of falling for your best friend, but it looked like I had a one-way ticket to I’m-Fucked-Ville.

I didn’t know what it said about me. Shelby was the weirdest person I knew—not necessarily personality-wise, but because she was such an enigma. One minute she was onto me about picking up my socks, and the next she was putting pencils into salads while muttering to herself.

She’d tell me to do something, then do it herself ten minutes later. She had no qualms about banging on the bathroom door and shouting at me while I was taking a shit. She’d bring me lunch then yell at me for something later that night.

She’d make me watch her stupid shows while talking to herself. I’d seen her burn food because she needed to write something down in a notebook that had to be done right the hell now. Heck, I’d come in from a night out and found her sitting at the kitchen island with her laptop open at two in the morning, typing furiously, because the people in her head only talked in the middle of the night.

Shit, it made her all the more perfect. She lived in her own little world that was largely in her head, but she wasn’t ditzy or forgetful.

No.

Shelby Daniels was the sanest crazy person I knew, and I knew I was falling in love with her.

Slowly. It was a little more every day. Every time she looked at me or laughed or did something that someone else might find annoying, I fell a little deeper.

And that was not fucking good.

She was my best friend. She was my roommate. Dating her was out of the question. Telling her how I felt was the biggest mistake I’d ever make. I needed to get the fuck over this puppy love thing before it went too far.