The Roommate (2 page)

Chapter Two

I’d barely opened the door when Patrick was there taking Chinese takeout bags from my hands.
 
The politeness tripped me up and I could barely stammer out a thank you.
 
He took boxes out of the bags while I grabbed plates.
 
And a fork.
 
I’d never mastered chopsticks; a fact
Ros
never missed an opportunity to tease me about.
 
My apartment was too small for a dining table, not that I entertained much, but there was a tiny table and two chairs on the balcony.
 
Ros
and I always ate on the sofa in front of a movie.

“Probably looks like a lot of food, but I always order enough for leftovers.”

“I couldn’t reach Rosalind,” he said.

“Yeah, she hasn’t replied to my texts, either. There’s water, of course, and I might have a beverage or two in my empty fridge.”
 
I put the kettle on the stove for hot tea.
 
You eat Chinese food, you have tea.
 
It’s just what you do.

“Water is fine, Jess.”

I took my two-item combo box and bag of wontons to the sofa.
 
The TV was on a business channel, reminding me this was nerdy, brainy Ricky no matter what he looked like.
 
“So, you went to college for computers?”

“Yes.
Including a Master’s Degree.”
 
He sat on the other end of the sofa.

“Wow. Is this your first tech job, then?”

“Yes and no. I paid for the degree with a customer support job.”

“Tech support isn’t IT?”

His face twisted in disgust, the strongest emotion I’d seen all day.
 
“No. Comparatively, it’s like a no-experience job for a high-school kid.”

“Oh.”

“I’m not belittling your question. The job had very little challenge. Most customers calling in barely know how to turn on a computer, so it’s a lot of hand-holding through the basics, often arguing with you despite calling in for help in the first place.”

“So you were either being yelled at or utterly bored. Was the pay good at least?”

A chuckle and shake of his head.
 
“It was good I was still living at Mom and Dad’s.”

“This new job means a lot, then.”

“Yeah.”
 
A sigh.
 
“Sink or swim.”

“When do you start?”

“Day after tomorrow.
Rosalind was supposed to put me up until my first paycheck.”

“Which I’m sure she’ll do as soon as she’s back.”
 

He stabbed his chopsticks into a container.
 
“Of course.”
 
Though his tone said
we’ll see
.

Ros
meant well, but she was like a bee, buzzing here and there, too busy to ever stay in one place for long.
 
She wouldn’t know what to do with nothing to do.
 
Even her vacations were scheduled with lots of stuff to do every day.
 
It made her very good at her job, but didn’t leave much room in her brain for anything else.
 
We’d remained friends because I wasn’t needy and took her as she was.

“Um, my couch doesn’t fold out, but I can give you a pillow and blanket.”

“That’s fine. Jess, you really don’t have to go to any trouble. Beggars can’t be choosers, right? A sofa’s better than sleeping at the airport, which I would’ve been doing if you hadn’t come to my rescue. I promise to do my best to stay out of your way.”

When was the last time I’d talked to a guy this nice?
 
I needed to up my standards.
 
“Okay. I leave for work at eight. I can set out some money for groceries—”

“That’s not necessary.”

“But—”

“Please, Jess.”
 
He finally looked at me.
 
His eyes were blue.
 
I’d forgotten.

Melting internally, I nodded.
 
“Okay.”

We lapsed into silence, stuffing our faces in favor of more awkward conversation.
 
The TV had been muted when I returned, so the room was quiet.

If
Ros
didn’t return tomorrow, he was stuck in my apartment until the day after tomorrow.
 
Wait
—
 
“
You’re starting work on a Thursday?”

He drank from his glass of water before replying.
 
“It’s the first of the month. Their accounting pays on the 1
^st
and 15
^th
, so they didn’t want to start me at the end of a pay period.”

“That’s a weirdly rigid schedule.”

He shrugged.
 
“If you say so.
I’ll be happy to know when my money’s in the bank.”

“Yeah.”
 
Now what?
 
“Where is your office?”

“I’d have to look in the e-mail to tell you. Rosalind mentioned that ‘L.A.’ stands for both the city and the county?”

“Yep.
It’s big. Most people from other states can’t fathom how spread out everything really is here. Or all the miles most people commute. Did they give you a moving bonus?”

“Uh, no.
I suppose I should’ve negotiated for that.”

“I’m surprised you came out here without a car.”

“I don’t own one. Rosalind said I could use public transit to get to the office from her apartment.”

“Maybe.
I mean, technically you can get anywhere by ‘public transit’, but that might not be the most efficient option. It could make your commute twice as long if you ride the bus.”

“I hadn’t thought about that.”

“Well, you’ve got all tomorrow to figure that out.”
 
I tried to sound positive.
 
My questions had been making his brows knit together in a heavy crease and the last thing I wanted to do was add to the poor guy’s nerves for his new job.
 
Glancing at the time on the DVR, I started cleaning up.
 
“I hate to cut this short, but I need to turn in soon.”

“Of course.”
 
He stood.
 
“You’ve already gone above and beyond tonight, Jess.”

I carried my container to the fridge.
 
“It’s nothing.
Really.
I had no plans tonight. Feel free to watch TV or whatever. As long as the volume isn’t loud, it won’t disturb me.”

“Goodnight, then.”

Should I hug him?
 
Shake his hand?
 
Don’t be an idiot
.
 
Nodding, I said goodnight in return and went into my bedroom to change.
 
My sweater and jeans could be worn again, so I set them aside and dropped everything else in the hamper.
 
Shoes in the closet.
 
With company, it was definitely a night for my most demure pajamas.
 
I still had to brush my teeth, wash my face, and pee in the bathroom, so better he see me in a cute flannel set vs. the ratty tee and old gym shorts I usually wore.

Slapping my forehead, I remembered I hadn’t given him a pillow or blanket, yet.
 
The linen closet was in the bathroom.
 
Patrick was stretched out on my sofa, shoes off, his laptop on his lap.

“Forget something?” he asked with eyes still on the screen.

“Nope.
Bathroom’s out here.”

“Right.”

Safe inside the bathroom, I let out a long breath.
 
My stomach had done a little flutter seeing him there looking comfortable.
 
Almost like he belonged.
 
I struck that thought out of my head as soon as it popped in there.
 
What was wrong with me?
 
It was like he’d triggered my biological clock or something—which was insane since I totally was not one of those girls searching for a husband.
 
At twenty-five, I had plenty of time for all that later.
 
Right?

Right.

Get cleaned up and go to bed!
 

Everything would be much saner in the morning.

Chapter Three

I’m not an instantly alert person in the morning.
 
My alarm goes off at 6:30AM every workday and the sequence goes like this: blindly fumble to the dresser to shut it off, turn on one bedside lamp, cringe at the light, rub my eyes, and shuffle half-asleep to the bathroom.
 
So, because I wasn’t awake, it took getting back to my room after showering to remember I had a guest on my couch.
 
Who might’ve just seen me walk by in a towel.

I peeked into the dark living room.
 
Patrick faced away from me.
 
His breathing was even.
 
His glasses were on the coffee table.
 
Thank God
.
 
Quietly shutting the door, I got dressed, and then snuck back to the bathroom to blow dry my hair and put on make-up.
 
I’d have to turn on the kitchen light to make tea, but hopefully he’d sleep through that, too.

Weird to have to sneak around my own apartment?
 
Yup.
 
But I was a considerate host—which was more than I could say if he was bunking with
Ros
right now.
 
Siblings, you know.

My hope of leaving before Patrick was awake was dashed upon opening the door.
 
He’d sat up on the sofa, looking as groggy as I’d been, and shirtless.
 
The curls on his head were in wild disarray.
 
He blinked at me standing in the bathroom doorway and fumbled for his glasses.

“Hey,” I said.

“Good morning.”
 
God, his voice was even throatier from sleep.
 
A thrill ran up my spine.

Shirtless.
 
Did I mention that already?
 
The blanket was still over his legs, so I couldn’t see more than that, but the naked chest and arms and abs was plenty.
 
An even dusting of hair spread across his
pecs
.
 
Yum
.
 

Stop staring and go to work!

I retreated to my bedroom for shoes and a jacket, then—

Patrick was on his way to my bathroom.
 
A pair of sweat pants hung low on his hips.
 
If he didn’t have such a fine ass, I think they would’ve fallen off.

Key!
 
In case he wanted to leave the apartment, he’d need a key.
 
I dug the spare out of the junk drawer in the kitchen, slapped it on the counter, and said, “Bye!” before grabbing my purse and running out the door.
 
Breakfast could be bought at Starbucks, including tea.

I arrived at work fifteen minutes early.

That never happens.

Any other normal day, I sit at my desk exactly on my start time.
 
To the minute.
 
Every day.
 
I liked my job enough to be punctual but not so much to do overtime.

That extra fifteen went to eating breakfast in the break room, a cream cheese muffin and Tazo green tea.
 
My boss came in for coffee and raised a brow.
 
“Not that I’m not glad to see you, Jess, but why are you here?”

“Good traffic.”

“Uh-huh. Traffic so good you had enough time for Starbucks and still got here early?”

“Uh, yup.”

“Right.
Well, whatever’s up with you, don’t let it affect your work. Remember our motto.”

“’Your personal life is left at the door.’ I know, Lydia. I’m fine, I swear. I just got an early start this morning.”

My boss sipped her coffee, not buying my bullshit, but left without pushing further.

We were friendly enough, and the floor was filled with a good bunch of people, but Lydia was still my boss.
 
We didn’t hang out or share.
 
I texted
Ros
again.
 
Call me, dammit!

Luckily—for distraction’s sake—today was swamped with work by lunch and I forgot to think about Patrick until I was on my way home.
 
Ros
was still MIA, so unless by some miracle he’d found another place to stay, we were still stuck together.
 
I got to my door and heard the vacuum cleaner running.

“Did you get that bored?” I asked.

He turned the machine off.
 
“What?”

“Dude, you don’t have to clean my apartment.”

“There were crumbs on the rug. And I didn’t know what else to do.”
 
He unplugged the vacuum and started winding the cord.
 
“I haven’t had this much free time in I don’t know when and—”

“It’s driving you a little nuts.”

“Sorry. Have I overstepped?”

The constant politeness was so damn cute.
 
“Nah.
Probably needed done.”
 
I opened the fridge to put my lunch leftovers away and found it full.
 
“You shopped?”

“The least I could do.”

“Ricky, you’re too nice.”
 
I’d decided to call him his old nickname to remind myself he was my friend’s younger brother and nothing more.

“So I’ve been told.”

“You don’t have to hang around here, you know. Learn the city or meet people or whatever. You don’t have to do errands for me just because you’re sleeping on my sofa.”

He glanced away.
 
“I’ve made you uncomfortable.”

“No! I just meant—”

“You want your space.”

“No…I’m trying to be a good host and tell you I don’t need anything from you in exchange for a couple days of a roof over your head.
Especially when your sister was supposed to be here for you.”

“Did you hear from her?”

“Did you?”

“I got a text that she expects to be back tomorrow.”

I sighed.
 
“More than I got.”

“Well, with any luck, Rosalind’s apartment will be ready and I’ll be out of your hair tomorrow evening.”
 
He wheeled the vacuum into the closet.

 
“Hey.”
 
I touched his arm.
 
“You’re welcome here. Probably the most polite houseguest I’ve ever heard of. And I’m glad to get to know you again after so many years.”

“Thanks.”
 
He gave me a real smile this time and
wow
.
 
That grin was devastating.
 
“Jess?”

“Hmm?”

“Can you let me out of the closet?”

“Oh!
Sure, yeah.”
 
I backed up so he could close the door.
 
Then snickered to cover my brain fart.
 
“’Out of the closet.’”
 
Ha!

He quirked a brow.

“Oh, God.
If you’re gay I just really made an ass of myself. I’m sorry—”

“I’m not gay.”
 
Dimples appeared in his cheeks, as he was obviously trying not to laugh at me.

“Oh good!
I mean—I’m shutting up now.”
 
Where were my
slippers,
and this jacket was too warm for indoors…

Patrick let me off the hook, going to the refrigerator while I made a beeline for my bedroom.
 
After hanging up my jacket and putting my shoes in the closet, I shut the door so I could change into more comfortable clothes.
 
A big old hoodie and my favorite jeans.

He was chopping vegetables.
 
I had a cutting board?
 
“
Whatcha
doing?”

“Making dinner.”
 
He cooks, too?
 
Mrs. Clark had made the perfect son.

“You don’t have to—”

“Stop telling me what I can and cannot do, Jess.”
 
Teasing me.
 

Nice.
 
I wanted to see him loosen up.
 
“What are you making?”

He pointed at the sofa with the knife.
 
“Relax. Do whatever you normally do on Wednesday nights.”
 
And bossy.
 
I liked it.

“Yes, sir,” I replied with a salute.

His eyes dropped down to his task, but there was a small grin on his lips.
 

Wednesdays were TV nights.
 
Well, most of my nights were TV nights if
Ros
was out of town.
 
I’m not a social butterfly.
 
I did like to go out, but only with friends, and I preferred quality over quantity with those.
 
Anyway, going out with her was fun, but I could be just as content at home, too.

“So, what did you do back home?”

“I already told you.”

“No, Ricky, for fun. It couldn’t have been all work and school.”

More chopped veggies went into a pot.
 
I vaguely remembered receiving a pots and pans set from my mom when I first got my own place.
 
He probably found them with the box still sealed.
 
My culinary skills were limited to the microwave.
 
Who wanted to cook for one?

“Mostly.
If you recall, I wasn’t popular in school. College was easier, but…”

“I’m sorry. I’m being nosy. You don’t have to tell me anything.”

“It’s alright. It…took a while to settle in, that’s all.”

“Did you live in a dorm?”

He nodded.
 
“Student housing all four years.
Went to the school rated best for my field, and that wasn’t at home, so. The nice thing about having a major is everyone in those classes is like-minded.”

“You found your tribe.”

A small chuckle.
 
“Yes.”

“When did the growth spurt happen?”
 
Ros
never mentioned it, nor brought recent photos back from holidays.

“I was nearly twenty-one. Late bloomers aren’t uncommon in our family, but I was skeptical.
Then spent a summer outgrowing all my clothes.”

“Expensive.”

“Yeah.”

“I bet your friends barely recognized you.”

Another chuckle.
 
God, his laugh was sexy.
 
“Some. I suppose it helped I had the same style, same backpack.
Still me.”

“I’d hope so, or I let a stranger in my apartment.”

His cheeks darkened a little.
 
Still shy enough to blush.
 
Adorable.
 
Was he not used to a woman teasing him?

“I’m sure the young ladies didn’t mind the new you.”

“I wasn’t interested.”

My eyes widened at that.
 
“Why not?”

“Would you be interested in someone so shallow that they don’t know you exist until you look a certain way?”

“When you put it that way, no.
So, you didn’t date?”

“Some. Honestly, my goals were my focus, and that didn’t leave much time for a social life. I finished classes a semester early so I could go straight into my Master’s and study for the certification courses.”

Made sense.
 
“I’ve been career-minded, too.
Always figured there was time for the other stuff after I was established.”
 
But I still got lonely.
 
Still envied the sweetness between couples obviously in love.

That was where
Ros
and I differed.
 
She had zero interest in settling down.
 
Ever.
 
Not to say she avoided men—quite the opposite—but as soon as a guy she saw casually wanted to make it not-so-casual, she was out the door.
 
Always said it would cramp her style.
 

“The right guy would be lucky to have you.”

“Aww, you’re so sweet.”

He eye-rolled.
 
“Trying to pay you a compliment, Jess.”

I knew.
 
I just didn’t want to take it to heart.
 
If I didn’t keep this light and casual, I’d start liking him too much.

“You’re just grateful for my sofa.”
 
Which I lay down on, resting my head on the arm so I was no longer looking at him being domestic and cute in my kitchen.
 
“That smells really good.”

“It presents well.
Just some sauce for pasta.”

“Dude, I’ve always had it from a jar, so I’m easily impressed. Did your mom teach you to cook?”

“Some. She didn’t want me to leave home ‘completely unable to take care of myself like those spoiled boys with mothers that baby them’.
Already had to do my laundry since I was twelve.
Dad made sure I could use hand tools and change the oil and tires.”

“I think my mom can cook, but she’s too lazy. I can use the microwave like a boss.”

“No wonder your cookware looks new.”

“Yeah, yeah.
You can take it with you when you get a place. It’ll just collect dust here.”

“You don’t want to learn?”

“Just to cook for myself?
What’s the point?”

“I guess.”

I rolled over to face him.
 
He was washing his hands in the sink, his back to me.
 
“
Ros
is the only person I have over, and we always get takeout or order pizza. There’s no dining table here because I don’t need one.”

“It can be healthier and cheaper to cook fresh food yourself.”
 
He dried his hands on a dish towel.
 
His sleeves had been pushed up to his elbows, exposing his taut forearms.

“Are you some kind of health nut? It’s obvious you go to a gym.”