Maybe Not (Maybe #1.5) (4 page)

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
fuck 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.

Shit.

Now she’s heading toward me with books in her hands.

Shit.

She’s sitting on the couch. Next to me. In that thin tank top. Without a bra.

I can handle this. I force my eyes on the TV, still in search of whatever porn she was in. I could just ask her, but that’s not a good idea. If she knows I know she was in a porn film, she’d
probably do everything she could to make sure I never find out.

She leans forward and picks up the remote, and then points it at the TV to mute it. I don’t know who she thinks she is, but if she doesn’t want to hear the TV, she can go to her room. I grab the remote and turn the sound back on. She sighs and opens one of her textbooks and begins reading.

I pretend I’m paying attention to the TV, but I can’t stop stealing glances at her, because
holy shit, I can’t believe I walked away from her
. I’m an idiot.

She grabs the remote and mutes the TV again, possibly because one of the girls was screaming at the top of her lungs. I wonder if Bridgette is loud during sex? Probably not. She’s more than likely stubborn, refusing to give up any of her sounds.

I unmute the TV again and she reaches her breaking point. “I’m trying to study, Warren. For fuck’s sake, you still get the same effect when it’s on mute.”

I eye her curiously. “How would you know? Are you a porn expert?”

She glances at me, a flash of suspicion in her eyes. “Can you please, for one night, forgo your addiction so I can study in peace and quiet?”

Bridgette said please.

“Go study in your bedroom,” I say.

Her mouth presses into a tight, thin line. She pushes her book off her lap and stands. She walks toward the TV and reaches behind it, pulling the plug. After returning to the couch, she pulls her book back onto her lap and resumes studying.

I don’t know how I ever got beyond her horrible attitude enough to even be attracted to her. She’s vile. I don’t care how good she looks, she’ll never find anyone who can put up with her
personality.

“You can be a real bitch sometimes, you know that?”

She releases an exasperated breath. “Yeah, well. You’re addicted to porn.”

I laugh under my breath. “At least I wasn’t
in
a porn.”

Her eyes swing in my direction. “I knew you were eavesdropping.”

I shrug. “I couldn’t help it. You were having a conversation like you were an actual human being. It was fascinating.”

Her focus falls back onto the pages of the textbook. “You’re an asshole.”

“You’re an opportunist.”

She slams her book shut and turns to face me on the couch. “An opportunist? Are you kidding me?”

I pull my knee up and turn and face her. “You don’t think it seems a little fishy that you show up out of the blue and claim to be the long-lost sister to the most popular local band in Austin?”

She looks capable of murder. “Warren, I suggest you stop making accusations against people you know absolutely nothing about.”

I grin, because I know that got to her. I might come out victorious again.

“I’ve learned enough about you to know you don’t deserve to be trusted.” I pick up her book and put it back in her lap and point to her bedroom. “Now take your homework and go back to your borrowed room.”

“
MY
borrowed room? You don’t even pay rent, Warren.”

“Neither do you, Bridgette.”

“All you do is watch porn and stare at my ass. You’re a lazy pervert.”

“All you do is
flaunt
your ass and fantasize about me kissing you.”

“You’re disgusting,” she says. “As a matter of fact,
watch
the porn. I’m sure you need all the pointers you can get.”

Okay, that’s low. She can insult my laziness, my finances, my new porn addiction, but she cannot insult my bedroom skills. Especially when she doesn’t have firsthand experience. “I don’t need pointers to please a woman, Bridgette. I was born with natural talent.”

She’s eyeing me like she’s about to punch me, but I can’t stop staring at her mouth, hoping she insults me again. Somewhere between being called an asshole and this moment, I’ve become more turned on than I’ve ever been in my life. I’m hoping she’s about to storm off to her bedroom because I’ve already met my quota for restraint when it comes to her.

She licks her bottom lip, and I have to grip the couch cushion to keep myself from attacking that mouth. Her eyes are focused intensely on mine, and we’re both breathing so heavily from our verbal attacks, I can taste her breath on my lips.

“I hate you,” she says through clenched teeth.

“I hated you first,” I hiss back.

Her focus falls on my mouth and as soon as I see the tiniest flash of desire in her eyes, I lunge forward. I grab her face and press my lips to hers as I shove her back against the couch. She’s pushing me away with her knees while pulling me to her with her hands. My tongue forces through the barrier of her lips and she devours me in response. I kiss her hard, and she kisses me even harder. I’m pulling at a fistful of her hair while she scratches down my neck with her fingernails.
Fuck,
it hurts.
She
hurts.

I want more.

I’m hovering over her and then pressing myself against her, pulling her knee up so she can wrap it around my waist. Her hands are in my hair, and I don’t want her to move out. I want her to stay. I want her to be my roommate forever. She’s the best fucking roommate I’ve ever had and my God, she’s so
nice
. How did I ever think she was mean? She’s so, so sweet, and her lips are sweet and
Bridgette, I love your name.

“Bridgette,” I whisper, wanting to say her name out loud. I don’t know how I hated her name before this moment, because it’s the most beautiful name I’ve ever said out loud.

I pull away from her mouth and begin working my way down her sweet, sweet neck. As soon as I make it to her shoulder, she begins to push me away with her hands.

Just like that, I snap back to reality and separate from her willingly.

I move to the other end of the couch, needing the space to wrap my head around
what the hell just happened?

She quickly sits up on the couch. She wipes her mouth and I run my hands through my hair, doing whatever I can to process this.

She’s an evil vixen. I close my eyes and squeeze my forehead, trying to figure out how I just lost complete control of myself simply because I was kissing her. I think of all the lies that were just passing through my head as my dick tried to convince me she was actually a decent person.

I’m weak. I’m so weak, and she just gained the upper hand again.

“Don’t do that again,” she says, angry and breathless.

Her voice makes me wince. “You started it,” I say defensively.

Did she? I can’t remember. It might have been mutual.

“You kiss like you’re trying to resuscitate a dead cat,” she says, disgusted.

“You kiss like you
are
a dead cat.”

She pulls her knees up to her chest and wraps her arms around them. She looks extremely uncomfortable in the silence, so it doesn’t surprise me when she spits out another insult. “You probably fuck like a limp noodle.”

“I fuck like I’m Thor.”

I’m not looking at her, but I know that comment had to make her smile. If she’s even capable of smiling. The silence grows heavier and neither of us moves, making it even more apparent that what just happened was a mistake.

“Why do you taste like onions?” she asks.

I shrug. “I just ate pizza.”

She glances into the kitchen. “Is there any left?”

I nod. “It’s in the fridge.”

She immediately stands up to walk to the kitchen, and I hate that I’m staring at her shirt. I can see her nipples poking through the thin fabric, and I want to point at her and say,
“I did that! That’s all me!”

Instead, I close my eyes and try to think about whatever will stop my wanting to follow her into that kitchen and bend her over the counter. Luckily, Ridge’s bedroom door opens, so I give my full attention to him as he walks into the living room. He pauses when he sees me sitting on the couch. He glances at the TV that isn’t even on. “Why do you look so guilty?”

I shake my head shamefully. “I think I just made out with Bridgette,” I sign.

Ridge looks at Bridgette, who is standing in the kitchen with her back to us. He shakes his head in disappointment. Or confu
sion.

“Why?” he asks, perplexed. “Did she do it willingly?”

I grab one of the couch pillows and throw it at him. “Yes, she did it willingly, asshole. She wants me.”

“Do you want her?” He seems genuinely shocked, like he didn’t see this coming at all.

I shake my head. “No I don’t want her,” I sign. “But I feel like I need her. So bad. She’s so . . .” I pause my hands for a few seconds before continuing. “She’s the best worst thing that’s ever happened to me.”

Ridge backs up until his hand is on the front door. “I’m going to Maggie’s for the night,” he signs. “We’ll pray for you.”

I flip him off as he makes his way out. When I turn back to face Bridgette, she’s walking toward her bedroom. She passes the TV and doesn’t even have the audacity to plug it back in.

I plug in the TV, because there isn’t a doubt in my mind now. I
have
to find that porno, because after experiencing that kiss, I’m addicted. Addicted to all things Bridgette.

• • •

I barely slept last night. Being in the same apartment with her, knowing Ridge and Brennan were both gone, was too much. It took all I had not to make an excuse to knock on her bedroom door. But I’m learning how her mind works, and I know she’d turn me down in a heartbeat just to stay in control.

And now, Ridge and Brennan are both still gone and she’s at work and I’ve exhausted all the porn on pay-per-view. I can’t keep track of how much porn I’ve watched in the past two weeks. It’s ridiculous. How many could there possibly be? And I’ve narrowed it down to the ones that have been recorded in the last few years,
because she had to be over eighteen when she filmed it. She’s twenty-two now, so that’s four years of porn films to sift through.

Oh, my God. I’m obsessed.

I’m like a stalker.

I
am
a stalker.

The front door swings open and Bridgette walks in. She slams it shut so hard, I flinch. She walks to the kitchen and begins opening cabinets and banging them shut. She finally rests her palms on the bar and looks straight at me. “Where the hell do you keep the alcohol?”

Bad day, I guess.

I stand up and walk over to the sink. I open the cabinet beneath it and take out the bottle of Pine-Sol. I don’t even bother grabbing her a glass. She looks like the type who can take a good swig.

“Are you trying to kill me?” she asks, staring at the bottle in my hands.

I push it into her hand. “Ridge thinks he’s clever by hiding it in old cleaner bottles. He doesn’t like it when I drink all his alcohol.”

She brings the bottle to her nose and winces. “Is whiskey the only thing you have?”

I nod. She shrugs and brings the bottle to her lips, tilts her head back, and takes a long swig.

She hands the bottle back to me as she wipes her mouth with the back of her hand. I take a sip from the bottle myself and then hand it back to her. We do this several times until her anger seems to have subsided, as much as anger can subside in Bridgette’s world. I put the top back on the bottle and return it to the cabinet.

“Bad day?” I ask.

She leans against the counter and pulls at the elastic of her orange shorts. “The worst.”

“Want to talk about it?”

She looks up at me through her lashes and then rolls her eyes. “No,” she says flatly.

I don’t push it. I don’t even know that I really want to know about her day. Anything and everything seems to set her off, so she’s probably pissed over something stupid, like a red light on her way home. It has to be exhausting to respond to all aspects of life with so much anger.

“Why are you always so mad?”

She laughs under her breath. “That’s easy,” she says. “Assholes, stupid customers, a shitty job, worthless parents, crappy friends, bad weather, annoying roommates who don’t know how to kiss.”

I laugh at the last comment, which I’m sure was supposed to be a dig, but it felt more like an underhanded flirt.

“How are you so happy all the time?” she asks. “You think everything is funny.”

“That’s easy,” I say. “Great parents, being lucky enough to have a job, loyal friends, sunny days, and roommates who starred in porn films.”

She glances away quickly in an attempt to hide a smile that almost appeared on her face. God, I wish she would let that smile out, because I’m dying to see what it looks like. As long as she’s lived here, I’m not sure that I’ve ever seen her smile.

“Is that why you watch so much porn? Because you’re hoping to find out which one I was in?”

I don’t nod, but I don’t shake my head, either. I lean my hip into the counter and fold my arms over my chest. “Just tell me the name of it.”