2B or Not 2B (Roomies Series) (7 page)

The patrons were busy with phone calls or their laptop. One man even ignored
, for several minutes, the poor, young waitress who tried to take his order. Some people didn't have an ounce of manners.

Macon was playing with a cigarette with his long
, thin fingers, the only thing soft about him. His brown eyes assessed me without a word, waiting for me to break down, but I didn't. He shook his head and finished his scrambled eggs, and I almost lost it on the table. Eggs. Ugh … I hated eggs when I was hangover―or any solid foods for that matter.

And
, like always, I broke down, unable to keep my mouth shut even if we were in a public diner with many patrons here to have a big breakfast before they started a new day. "It was just a kiss, Macon, so don't look at me like that." And I put the straw back in my mouth for a new sip of my perfect chocolate milkshake.

He looked around us and leaned closer over the table. "How was it?" he asked. His eyes took a faraway look. "I'm sure he's one expert with his tongue."

"Are you sure you got laid the other night because you sure sound like you're on a dry spell."

He ran a hand
over his unshaved cheeks and chuckled. I couldn't remember if it was the third or fourth day since he’d shaved. If his mother could see him right now with his wrinkled black tee-shirt, beat up jeans, his long hair all over the place and his beard, she would have a heart attack. She hated how little he cared about his look, and for the life of her, she couldn't understand why gay men would dig it, and straight women, too. "No, baby, it's your bad influence."

"It was bound to happen after all these years," I retorted undeterred.

"Is it me, or are you deflecting my question?"

I rolled my eyes and pushed away my tall glass
, now empty. "He's my roommate, the guy who owned the apartment, and I'm on probation there. It's weird."

He grabbed his cigarette again and played with it. "Let's get this straight,
baby. He kissed you. Granted, you kissed him back, but he was the one initiating it. And if he gave you
the look
…"

"He totally did," I said, nodding like a bobbing head.

"Well then, he oozes sex, and he gives you
the look
. In my book you were screwed."

The finality made me laugh. Macon was something else.
And he had to be since our friendship had lasted so long.. "Brilliant choice of words, Macon."

"I know,
baby, I know. So, how was it?" He wasn't ready to drop it any time soon. We'd always shared those kinds of details.

"Better than sex."

He waved me off and shrugged. "It doesn't mean much when you’ve had sex only with that Ryan asshole who didn't know what to do with his dick and hands."

"It wasn't bad!" I replied appalled.

He frowned and stared me down. "You were able to do it in our high school in a closet, and nobody heard you, baby. He didn't shake your world all that much."

I narrowed my eyes on his inquisitive face and put my hands on the table, palms down
, against the steel of the modern looking table. "Fine! When Byron kissed me, I felt hot! My heart was beating so fast that I could hear it, and I had butterflies on speed in my stomach. Is that a better description?"

He smiled like the Chestshire cat and leaned back in his chair. "Almost. Did you want him?"

"Have you seen Byron?" I asked back, rolling my eyes.

"Right, dumb question," he said, acknowledging it with a shrug. "What are you going to do now?"

"Go back and forget it ever happened."

"It's not going to work,
baby."

"It will. After all, we were both drunk." I stood up and let Macon pay for our breakfast. It was his turn this time.

"It's going to be fun around your apartment. If only I lived there too…"

I linked my arm with his and walked out. "You'd try to turn him into a gay guy."

He chuckled and walked us to his car. I put back on my huge, white sunglasses as the sun was making my headache worse. I moaned, and it made Macon laugh even more. He didn't have a pity bone in his tall body, that one.

* * *

DAY 6

I closed my eyes and sighed for what felt like the twentieth time already. I came back home an hour ago and had yet to write a single paragraph on this essay. Put two guys
—soldiers—and beers in the same room, and you could kiss your peaceful study time in your bedroom goodbye. I closed my books and turned off my laptop.

Byron and Eliott's laughter got louder
, and it made me smile in spite of my annoyance. I stood up and schooled my face into an angry mask with a glare, a deep frown and my mouth set into a scowl.

In three steps I was out of my room, the door hitting the wall when I opened it with too much strength, and I showed them the full force of my glare. While Byron wasn't impressed and even pushed it by smirking at me, Eliott smiled sheepishly at me. With his dark locks falling smoothly over his forehead and his soft eyes, he was boyishly charming.

"Sorry if we bothered you, London," Eliott said with his deep voice, so recognizable. That was when his charm went up several notches because with a sinful voice like his, boyish charm wasn't the right term to describe him.

I melted just a little bit and let my fake glare slip away. I giggled and grabbed Eliott's beer bottle
, almost empty. He chuckled and leaned back further into the couch. But my roommate was oddly quiet. I took a sip of the beer, quite warm, and glanced at the Lord of my current castle. Our eyes locked, and the need to fidget became harder and harder to ignore. The longer his clear eyes appraised me, the faster my heart beat. I blinked and finished the beer, all the while willing my cheeks not to turn beet red.

"And my beer doesn't interest you, Bridge?"

I looked back at him and gaped. He's not smirking; his eyes were hard on me and not playful. How did I miss that? Was he angry because I drank from his best friend's beer and not his? It couldn't be. It was too ridiculous. But the most ridiculous thing was that it warmed me to think that maybe, to a certain extent, Lord was jealous. That kiss must have really messed with my head.

I closed my mouth and sat next to Eliott, my side plastered to his while Lord looked down at his beer bottle. He peeled angrily at the label while his other hand was clenched into a fist. The only noise came from the TV on the MTV channel. Inside, I was yelling at myself for trying to get a rise out of my roomy by using Eliott, and it was just to hide how messed up that drunken kiss made me feel. Eliott bumped his broad shoulder into mine. I sighed and stood up.

"I'll take you up on your offer, Lord, but next time. I'm not feeling like getting drunk again, not now that I'm not hungover anymore." When the word "again" left my mouth, I felt my face burning up as the memory of that kiss took a hold of me.

Lord's frown didn't ease up, but the amused spark in his eyes came back. "I'm ready for you whenever you are."

I chuckled lamely, trying to play it off, but the innuendo got to me. I waved and skipped to my room with the guys' chuckles as a background melody. My heart was fluttering in my chest, my stomach was tied in knots, and it was unmistakable. I was aroused. Damn it!

Chapter Seven

DAY 8

I looked up from the mean spinach salad
―one of the few meals I was able to cook―when I heard the front door open and close. Byron walked in and sent a half smile my way. I was about to open my mouth and say something highly … inappropriate when I saw that he wasn't alone. Not alone at all.

I swallowed the bile rising to my mouth and wiggled my eyebrows at Byron who chuckled and shook his head. Maybe I was imagining it, but I'd swear that his shoulders relaxed and his face
, too. Was he expecting me to yell or something because we kissed the other night? I wasn't that kind of girl, and I hoped that I would never be.

I pointed at the girl and forced a smile to my face. Byron ran a hand through his buzzed hair and threw his keys on the coffee table. "You are the flavor of the week. Welcome!"

She sneered at me, and all traces of her mean beauty disappeared, leaving behind just a vanity shell I couldn't stomach. I knew all too well her kind; the kind that looked at me from above and thought very little about me just because I wasn't thin and could care less to wear a barely-there dress. "And you are?" the leggy girl asked me with a displeased face, her ruby lips pouting inelegantly. She crossed her way too thin arms over her fake boobs, making them almost pop out of her very low cut, sheer tank top. The only thing that looked natural on her was her wavy and shiny long brown hair.

"It's Bridge," Byron answered for me, stepping back toward his guest and put a hand on
the small of her back.

"Bridget?"

"No, London," I said with a shrug.

Byron laughed at her lost expression
, and she didn't like to be left out of this
joke
. "But you call her Bridge?"

He shook his head dismissively and led her to his bedroom with his hand still on her bare back. She beamed at him and put a little more sway in her walk. I rolled my eyes. Ridiculous. "Have a nice and sweaty night, Lord."

He laughed out loud and winked back.

"Lord? Why is she calling you Lord?"

His laugh was the last sound I heard before he closed his door, and her moans echoed through the apartment for a long time, making me grumpy and bothered for the first time. I hated who I was starting to be. I wasn't that kind of girl. I didn't care. Yeah, right …

* * *

DAY 12

I couldn't stomach any food. It
had been twenty minutes of non-stop giggling and moans coming from Byron's room which made me ill. I tried to turn up the volume of the TV, but it did nothing. I still heard the girl I had yet to see. I even went back to my room thinking that if I listened to some music on my iPod, it would drown out the sounds, but it was awful. My room was too close to his. Now, I was contemplating banging my head against the wall. Anything would be better than this and my wandering thoughts.

A k
nock on the door perked me up. Hopefully it wasn't Sydney, no need for her to be corrupted that way. I ran to the door, ready to jump at whomever's neck. As soon as I opened the door, some of my good mood came back. It couldn't be otherwise when you had a gorgeous soldier in front of you, smiling. The more Eliott stopped by to see my sex-crazed roommate, the more I was discovering how Eliott was a great guy and not just eye-candy.

I hugged him quickly and led him inside. "You look annoyed, London. Something wrong?" he asked me with his drawl of a voice that always made me swoon a little bit.

I chuckled somberly and waved at Byron's door just in time for another loud moan. Eliott winced and sat next to me on the couch. He hugged me sideways, and I leaned into him. "It's been going on for twenty minutes already."

"Does it bother you that much?"

I glared at him and pulled away from his firm body. "It's not the best sound, you know. I already heard this a few too many times these last few days, and it's driving me nuts." I took a deep breath. I should calm down. I was acting crazy, and it wasn't like me to be this way. Not for a guy. What was wrong with me? Why did I want to be that nameless girl in his room?

"Tell him, then. You do talk with him sometimes, right?" Eliott pushed away a dark lock falling into his eyes. I hated to feel his soft eyes on me
; it made me think that he could see too much, see things I wasn't ready to face yet.

"I don't want to talk about him anymore. Do you want to watch a movie with me? I'm not in the mood to study."

He shrugged and handed me the remote that was on the coffee table in front of him. He opened his arm and invited me to lay next to him. I didn't have to think twice. I plastered myself against him and put my head on his chest. He chuckled and rubbed my arm in comfort. This guy was too sweet for his own good. Another moan, louder this time, echoed through the apartment and everything went back to calm. The TV was the only thing making any kind of sound. Eliott shook his head and sighed.

Not even ten minutes into the movie and the girl left, head hanging down to hide her falling
tears. Byron left his room, too, in just his boxers ready to go for a shower. His eyes landed on Eliott and me, and his scowl got to Eliott. Eliott pushed me away softly without a word, but his eyes were apologizing. What was that? I looked back at Byron, but he was already in the bathroom.

* * *

DAY 16

I never thought I'd be bothered hearing someone having sex before. I went on vacation with Macon last summer
, and I heard him and some random guy going at it way too many times. It never bothered me. Well, I was bothered after the fourth night with barely three hours of sleep, but that's beside the point. The point was that this week was a living nightmare, and I wanted to strangle myself for reacting that way. I didn't want to go after Byron and give him a piece of my rilled up mind; no, because all in all he was doing what he always did. He slept around. Every. Fucking. Night.

I massaged my temples, trying to erase the pounding headache. It was time to head back to class for the last day of the week. I couldn't wait to
enjoy a good party that same night over at one of the frat houses—Macon always heard about the best parties. Or maybe it was because it was well known that he was the best friend of a girl who gave blow jobs like it was as common as saying hello. I was in such a foul mood.

Byron walked out of the bathroom, all ready for the day in his beat up jeans and white teeshirt. His dog-tags were over his tee-shirt
, and he promptly put them inside his shirt, careful to hide them from everybody's eyes. It was weird, this need of his to hide his past as a soldier. Besides his close friends like Eliott and the other one who came over here a couple of times, nobody knew that I was aware of at least. Though, girls dug his rough and raw good looks with his thin scar so much they flocked to him. I would never judge them because it was commonly known that he wouldn't try to settle down with any one of them, but I was a little weirded out when late at night, some of them made a scene when he asked them to leave. Please, he oozed one-fucking-hot-night stand! They should gather their dignity, smile coyly and turn their back. But no, some were delusional enough to think they'd be different once he had put his dick inside of them. God, they must have some crazy daddy issues.

"You don't look so hot, Bridge," he said while opening the fridge and taking a big gulp of orange juice straight from the bottle. He put it back in and closed the fridge before he walked to me. I was sitting on the couch with my bag at my feet and my head against the back of the couch, ready for a nap when it was just past nine in the morning.

"You know how to cheer up a girl."

He smiled devilishly and played with his keys. "Believe me, I know how to 'up' a girl," he replied, his voice rich and warm
, and I hated it. I hated that since he kissed me, I couldn't stand hearing the moans and cries of passion coming from the girls he brought to his room. I hated to have my mind going back time and time again to that night when he kissed me like he was fucking me with his mouth. I hated to ask myself what he was doing to these girls to make them so loud. I. Hated. Everything.

"Funny."

His amused smile was replaced with a frown of concern. I shook my head and stood up, ready to go to my first and only class of the day.

"What's going on? Seriously."

I shouldered my bag and felt myself unsure of what to do or say. I've never been really attracted to a guy like him, and I didn't understand this weird feeling tugging at me. I was just like all the other girls now. I hated to know he was sleeping every night with a different leggy, and freaking beautiful, girl after he kissed me like he meant it. I thought he felt how hot it was, and realizing that my deluded self made me feel … I didn't know how it made me feel, really. I was just insecure, and I hated it all too much. And I should never forget what I told him a couple of weeks ago when I came here to visit the apartment. I told him that I'd never want to sleep with him. At the time I thought it was easy since I never wanted to go all the way with a guy since Ryan, but now … well, when living with a guy who was hot and sexy, so effortlessly, things could get more complicated.

"Nothing, I'm just tired. I have to go
. I've got a class in ten minutes."

He held up his car keys and shouldered his bag
, which was next to the front door. "I'll drive you. I've got a class in ten, and I'm finished by noon."

I opened my mouth to decline, but I just nodded. He was being nice
, and he didn't even know what or why I was in such a bad mood. For all he knew, he could think I had my period, so that's why I was so cranky. If only!

The drive to the campus was very quiet
, all too quiet for the both of us. Since the minute we met, we had to spar with words, and he knew I enjoyed shocking the hell out of him, but for now we were just very quiet.

As soon as he parked his old car, I climbed out. He jogged to me to keep up
―which wasn't very difficult for him since he was so fit and I wasn't. People―students and teachers―were walking by. It was obvious they were all happy that it was Friday, the last day of the week, with their quick steps, smiles, and light talks probably about their plans for the weekend. And just because I wasn't in a
bad enough
mood, Ryan was there, just a dozen feet from us with his high school sweetheart, the perfect Ashley, blonde, tall, thin, tiny breasts, and perky ass in her skinny white pants. Ryan looking around, his eyes eventually landed on me, quirking his lips on one side. He put an arm around his girlfriend's waist, who snuggled against him with a smile while resuming her talk with a couple of friends, and he winked at me. I had a hard time swallowing or even turning my eyes away. It was like watching a car wreck. It was awful, and yet you couldn't look away. Byron cleared his throat next to me and bumped into my shoulder. Startled, I closed my eyes for a second and walked again toward the building for my next class. My roommate followed me without a word—I knew he had most of his classes in the same buildings as me—but all I wanted was to be left alone. I wanted to go back to my normal and crazy self instead of this wounded shadow I was for a whole year last year. I made a promise to Macon to move on and get better. I was doing a great job, but whenever I saw Ryan from afar, everything was crashing back to me. I couldn't deal with the fool I'd been.

Just before I reached my class, Byron's firm hands grabbed my left wrist. His calloused skin against mine was hot
though I had no idea how to decifer my feelings with his touch at that moment. I took a deep breath and faced him. I didn't want to talk, we weren't even friends, but I didn't know how to avoid it. Not when he had been a first hand witness of this.

"Don't tell me you're pinning after th
at ass." His voice was hard and tainted with disbelief.

I tried to twist my wrist and escape his grip, but it was foolish of me to think I'd be able to escape a full
y trained soldier like that. "Leave me alone, Byron."

"Why, Bridge?" He leaned closer, his face so close to mine that I could see every sparkle of silver dotting his blue eyes. I breathed him in. He smelled like the ocean, the sun and something else that I couldn't identify, but was way too enticing. But even his closeness couldn't tame me when he was grilling me about the one person I didn't want to talk about or think about.

"Because you know nothing about me and him!" I took a deep breath and glanced around us. We were making a scene, even if nobody could hear us. Several students were looking at us, trying to hear what was going on.

"I know what I saw. You looked hurt when he put his arm around his girlfriend's waist
, and I saw him wink at you. So, you know what? I get how fucked up it is." He released me, but didn't step back. I felt tiny so close in front of him, something I never felt except with him, as crazy as it sounded.

I put both hands on my hips to prevent me from punching him in his square jaw. "Excuse me. I forgot
, Lord, how much of an expert you are in relationships."

He shook his head and gritted his teeth. "Sarcasm doesn't suit you, Bridge."

"Just like caring doesn't do it for you," I bit back with all the venom I could muster.