The Roommate (3 page)

“Is it?”

Trap!
 
Trap!
 
“’Cause you’re not gonna get me on a treadmill, mister,” I said, shaking my finger at him.

“Okay.”

That was close.
 
Do
not
let your
BFF’s
younger brother know you’ve been ogling him!

I looked at the clock.
 
“Bit early to start dinner, isn’t it?”
 
I got off work at four, so.

“The sauce has to simmer a while.”

“Oh.”
 
Like I’d know.
 
“Ready for work tomorrow?”

That question was rewarded with a grimace.
 
“Are you ever ready for a new job?”

“Point.”

“I have the route on my phone and cash for the bus.”
 
He tapped my feet and I sat up.

“Good. What time do you start?”

“Nine. Probationary shift is nine to five.”

“Well, I suggest preparing everything tonight so all you have to do is get dressed, eat, and go. Make it easy on your brain.”

“Do you have an iron?”

“In the linen closet.”

“Thanks.”
 
His knee was bouncing.

First thing that came to mind to make it stop was climbing on his lap.
 
Stop it, brain!

I had no doubt I could take his mind off his nerves, but it wasn’t my place, for one, and two,
reasons
.
 
Despite my best efforts, my libido hadn’t gotten the message that he was off limits.
 
At least
Ros
would be back tomorrow.
 
She’d be taking Patrick off my hands if I had to use every piece of blackmail material I knew to make it happen.

We ate dinner later that night—fresh pasta instead of the dried stuff OMG—and I watched my shows while he did things on his laptop.
 
Then I prepared for bed and told him good luck for the morning.

Chapter Four

Patrick was up thirty minutes after my alarm went off.
 
My shower and make-up was done, but I had to wait to dry my hair until he had bathed, so I ate breakfast.
 
He’d bought cereal and milk yesterday, too.
 
There was a box of
Kashi
and a box of
Cap’n
Crunch
.
 
Interesting.

“Sorry to interrupt your routine,” he said after opening the door.
 
“It’s all yours.”
 
He walked out in a pair of slacks, wiping his face and neck with a towel.
 
He’d just shaved.

I was drooling again.

Would I ever get used to seeing him without a shirt?
 
No, because he wasn’t staying that long.
 
Ros
would be back this afternoon.
 
I slurped up the last of my cereal and went into the bathroom.
 
It smelled like concentrated Patrick, making my willpower whimper in defeat.
 
He definitely had to go or I’d do something we’d all regret.

I needed a date.
 
I was just hard-up from a dry spell.

He was dressed in a button-down shirt and tie by the time I finished, wing-tips on his feet.
 
Very sharp.
 
“You look nice,” he said, loading his laptop into a messenger bag.

“Huh? Thank you. So do you.”
 
Ready to leave, I headed for the door.
 
“Break a leg, Ricky.”

A sideways smile.
 
“Thanks.”

I texted
Ros
:
You’re still on your way, right?

Sorry Ricky’s annoying you
, she texted back.

Hey, you’re alive. And no, he’s not. But you owe him
.
 
And me.

Yeah, yeah.
Already got an earful
.

You did bail on the guy
.

You’re taking his side?
L

There are no sides. What kind of best friend would I be if I didn’t keep you accountable?

I can’t believe you text 4
syl
words
.

Ros
…

Fine, I screwed up. You don’t know the pressure I’m under
.

I didn’t reply.
 
When she was in a
pissy
mood like this, there was nothing I could say that’d be right.
 
Hopefully, a few drinks on the plane would mellow her out.

Through the work day, my mind kept drifting to Patrick, wondering how his day was going.
 
Did he like his boss?
 
His coworkers?
 
Were they throwing him in the deep end or easing him into the work with training?
 
Had he thought of me at all?

No.
 
Stop that train right here
.
 
It didn’t matter what he thought of me or if he never thought of me at all.
 
I was only thinking of him out of concern for an old friend.

“Jess, you’ve been staring at that e-mail for ten minutes.”
 
Lydia.
 
Shit.
 
“What’s going on with you?”

“Nothing.
I was trying to compose an appropriate response.”

“Uh-huh. Try again.”

I sighed.
 
“I have a guest in my apartment from out of town. It’s thrown off my routine a bit.”

“Family?”

“Sort of.”

“Ah, boyfriend.”

I laughed, only it wasn’t my laugh.
 
Lydia arched a brow.
 
“A family friend.
No boyfriends.”

“But this
family friend
has a penis.”
 
Damn her perceptiveness.

“Fine, I want to fuck his brains out. Happy?”

She smirked.
 
“You need to get laid.
Or a vibrator.
I know a discrete little shop—”

“Don’t need to know!”

“Suit yourself. But I’ve seen this look before. You need a release or you’re going to go crazy.”
 
Lydia was a well-preserved thirty-eight, so when it came to life experience, I trusted her judgment.
 
“I’ll find you a business card.”
 
She left my desk.

I dropped my head on the table.
 
She was right.
 
I needed to get Patrick out of my head and someone else in my pants.

At quitting time, I didn’t go straight home.
 
There was a nice coffee bar nearby usually full of single and young people.
 
If I could find someone that caught my eye, someone to flirt with, then I had hope of controlling my body.

Of course, the first guy I spotted had wire-frame glasses and a tweed vest.
 
I started to head over, only to see him greet and kiss a beautiful blonde.
 
Story of my life.
 
I loosened a button to expose some cleavage and bellied up to the bar to order something sweet.
 
At least chocolate had never let me down.

After an hour, I’d been approached by one guy and he had a big neon sign spelling out douche bag on his forehead, so no.
 
I summoned the male barista.
 
“Am I wearing a do-not-approach-unless-you’re-a-loser sign tonight and no one told me?”

“Honestly, you look like your mind is somewhere else.
Rough day?”

“No…”

“Ah, getting over someone.”

“Not really.
Kind of.
I like someone I shouldn’t and it’s messing with my head.”

He nodded sympathetically.
 
“Been there once.”

“What did you do?”

“Went for it anyway and got my heart broken. But I was young and dumb.”

“College?”

He laughed.
 
“How could you tell?”

“We all have those horror stories. I’m Jess.”

He shook my hand.
 
“Matt.”

“Common name.
There are four of them on my floor at work.”

“And my last name is Smith.
Part of the faceless legion.”
 
Funny.
 
He was cute in a hipster way, with a clever haircut and forearm tattoos.
 
Warm brown eyes.
 
Average height.

Nothing like he who I was trying to forget.

“Got any plans after your shift, Mr. Smith?”

“Not tonight. What do you have in mind?”

“I’m hungry and I don’t want to eat alone.
How about you?”

“I’m off at six if you care to hang out and wait.”

“I can do that.”

I got a refill,
then
went over to the section of comfy chairs.
 
Checked my phone.
 
Ros
had landed and was picking up her car.

Patrick should be at my place. Has the spare key
, I texted.

Working late?

Don’t wait up
.

No further messages.
 
Relief?
 
Check.
 
I didn’t want to talk about what I was doing.

Usually kept a book in my bag for my lunch hour, so I read while Matt finished his shift.
 
He’d smile at me when I looked up, a promising sign.
 
Dinner was safe, right?
 
If we clicked, then…and if we didn’t, no harm, no foul, but at least I’d gotten out there again.

Matt opened the door for me on the way out,
then
I followed his car to a diner.
 
He drove a Nissan Leaf.
 
Definite hipster, not that there was anything wrong with that.
 
“Been here before?” he asked in the parking lot.

“Nope.”

“Great burgers.
You’ll love it.”

“Well, it smells good from here.”

He opened the door ahead of me again—I liked good manners—and someone behind the counter waved to him.
 
Matt must be a regular.

A waitress said, “Seat yourselves anywhere you like.”

Matt led me toward the back, away from the noise at the counter.
 
We sat across from each other.
 
“Since you like chocolate, I’m going to recommend you don’t leave without dessert.”

“Duly noted.”

“So, Jess…is that short for anything?”

“Jessica, but only my parents use my full name.”

He nodded.
 
“My grandmother still calls me Matthew. How long have you lived in L.A.?”

“Over three years. Do I sound like I’m not a native?”

“Nah, but most people aren’t, at least in my experience. I’m originally from Seattle.”

“Rainy.”

“Yeah, I don’t miss that,” he said with a chuckle.
 
A waitress dropped off menus.

My phone buzzed with the sound for an e-mail.
 
I muted it.
 
“Sorry.”

“No worries. I know it kind of looks like a dive in here, but I promise the food is amazing. What do you do for a living, Jess?”

“Office work.
My title is a fancy term for just another worker bee.”

“Data entry?”

“More or less.
My boss is tough but fair and I work with good people, so it suits my needs.”

“Right on. I’m actually really passionate about coffee, like all the way back to soil. I’m saving up to travel to all the centers of good coffee and learn from the best.”

“So you want your own farm?”

“Maybe.
Right now the goal is my own café.”

“Tough biz.”

“Yeah, the stats aren’t in my favor, but I have a good feeling about it.
Doing my homework.”

“Then I hope you can make your dream come true.”

We ordered, and ate—he was right about the burgers—and I got a piece of chocolate cake to take home.
 
Matt was sweet and nice, but as dinner went on, I had the feeling we were running out of things to talk about.
 
He walked me to my car.

“This was nice,” I said.

“Definitely.”

“Thanks for dinner. I’m stuffed.”
 

He’d grabbed the check before I had a chance to.
 
I fiddled with my keys.
 
He leaned in to kiss me.
 
It…wasn’t the worst I’d experienced.
 
“Well, that was…”

“Yeah.”

“We don’t have chemistry, do we?”

“I did enjoy dinner.”

“Me, too.
Friends?”

“Absolutely.
Keep a stool warm for me.”

“I’ll make sure we don’t run out of chocolate.”

I kissed his cheek.
 
“Thanks, Matt. You got my mind off something tonight and for that I’m very grateful.”

“Drive safe, Jess.”
 
He walked to his Leaf.

Sighing, I opened my door.
 
And pointed my car toward home.
 
Couldn’t avoid it any longer.
 
Crazy thing was, I didn’t know whether I wanted Patrick to be there, or not.

I reached my floor and heard voices coming from down the hall.
 

People arguing.

In my apartment.
 

Oh, hell
…
 
I slowly turned the key, and held my breath before swinging the door open.
 
Ros
and Patrick stared at me.

“I’m gone for a few hours and you two can’t get along?”

“Where have you been?”
Ros
asked.

“I told you.”

“Work has to-go bags?”

“So I stopped to eat after a long day, sue me. Now why are you two ready to kill each other?”
 

Patrick wouldn’t look at me.
 
He paced my tiny living room, his neck red.

“I had to explain to Ricky that I can’t help him. My apartment is still off-limits and I’m only in town for twenty-four hours. If he’d given me more than a couple days notice, we might’ve arranged something, but—”

“Then you shouldn’t have told Mom and Dad it
wouldn’t be a problem
.”

“Dad asked me to show you around town. He didn’t say when!”

I stuck two fingers in my mouth and blew, creating a loud whistle.
 
They stared at me again.
 
“Not in my house. If you two are going to yell at each other all night, take it elsewhere.”

“I’m sorry, Jess,” Patrick said.

“
Ros
, you know lots of people. Why don’t you use the time you’re here tomorrow to call around and see who might need a roommate? Is that a fair compromise?”

“I guess.”
 
She couldn’t be much more petulant if she was fourteen.

“Great. You should also get Ricky a room for the night.”

“Now hold on—why? It’s not my fault he arrived broke!”

“
Ros
, we both had the understanding that you’d be helping him with a place to stay when he got here. You owe him a room.”

“
Fine
.
God.
If it will get this over with.
Grab your shit, kid, you’re comin’ with me.”

“No.”

“Excuse me?”

“
No
.”

I looked between the two siblings.
 
Glaring at each other with jaws clenched and arms crossed, there was no denying they were related.
 
Ros
’ hair wasn’t as dark or curly, but they shared the same profile, the same stubborn will.
 
Made me glad I was an only child!