Total pages in book: 91
Estimated words: 92646 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 463(@200wpm)___ 371(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 92646 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 463(@200wpm)___ 371(@250wpm)___ 309(@300wpm)
I nod. “Yup.”
Luca whistles low, then shakes his head. “Damn. Poor guy probably short-circuited.”
I groan. “That makes me feel worse, thanks.”
But Luca holds up his hands. “Nah, listen. Turner’s a good dude. Like, good good. Polite. Old-school. Opens doors, says thank you, doesn’t sleep around. He’s only ever had long-term girlfriends. The guy still uses coasters.”
“He does,” Nova concurs. “He’s actually super adorable.”
Luca nods. “So whatever happened, I promise you—he’s not being creepy. He’s probably embarrassed for you. And himself. He’s probably upstairs composing a formal apology.”
Nova grins at me. “See? One less thing to panic about."
"Great. Only four hundred things left."
They both laugh.
“Fine. I trust you.” I take the phone off its place on my dresser and straighten. “Then I’ll go out there and reintroduce myself.”
“Put on a turtleneck,” Nova tells me.
I flip her off.
Then I end the call, toss my phone onto the bed, and pull open my dresser drawer. I bypass the jeans, skip over the yoga pants, and go straight for my softest, least flattering option: a baggy gray romper that hits just above the knee and hides everything—literally.
I tug it on and glance at myself in the mirror.
Nod.
Satisfied I look dowdy, I open my bedroom door, listening for noises so I can head in the right direction.
From the recesses of the house I hear the distinct sound of plastic clicking and follow the sound.
Multiple clicks. Rhythmic. Sharp.
What the—
I creep toward the dining room and peek around the corner.
There he is.
Professional athlete. Full-grown man.
Building a LEGO fortress.
A massive one. Like, multiple instruction books thick. There are tiny piles of bricks color-sorted across the table, and he’s hunched over the base, tongue slightly between his teeth, focused like he's defusing a bomb.
He doesn’t look up.
Barely notices I’m there.
This was not what I expected him to be doing when I found him.
My nerves, which were ready for awkward eye contact and forced small talk, are now totally unprepared for the sight of the man who saw my butt this morning carefully constructing a medieval drawbridge.
He finally glances up, startled.
“Oh,” he says. “Hey.”
Pause.
He looks at me, then quickly back at the LEGO instruction booklet.
I clear my throat. “What are you working on?”
“Lord of the Rings castle,” he says without missing a beat. “Helm’s Deep. Limited edition.”
I hide my smile. “Oh...”
He nods solemnly. “Very rare. Took four months to track down and I paid way too much for it.”
I step closer, curiosity overriding my embarrassment. “Is that a tiny battering ram?”
It’s so cute! I love miniature things.
He nods again. “And a miniature Aragorn. Careful though—his sword falls off if you breathe on him too hard.”
I stare at Turner.
He stares at the LEGOs.
Then he exhales, setting the piece between his fingers down, his shoulders dropping like he’s been holding his breath since I walked into the dining room.
“Um,” he says, blue eyes meeting mine. “I just wanted to, uh—apologize again. For this morning.”
I open my mouth to tell him there is no need, but he seems determined to continue.
“I didn’t mean to sneak up on you. Or—I don’t know. Shock you. I wasn’t trying to be a creep. I just walked in and there you were, and then there was screaming, and I was screaming and it all happened really fast.”
That about sums it up.
And Luca was right; this seems to have been weighing on his mind.
“You don’t have to apologize. If anything, I should be the one apologizing. This is your house and I…” I clear my throat again, shifting on my feet in the doorway. “I was out there flipping eggs like I own the place. In next to nothing. So.”
“Don’t worry.” His ears go red. “I barely noticed.”
I feel my brows rise at his obvious lie.
He winces. “Fine, I noticed. But I didn’t take a mental screenshot or anything.”
“Mental screenshot?” I repeat, trying not to laugh.
He groans. “Forget I said that. I’m sleep-deprived.” Turner yawns to prove his point, patting his mouth. “See?”
I grin, crossing my arms as I lean a little closer to the table. “Well, thank you for trying not to remember me in my least flattering moment. That was very gentlemanly of you.”
“Don’t know if I’d call it your least flattering moment,” he mutters, barely above a whisper, and I flush.
I glance at the time on my phone and sigh. I’ve been standing here idly longer than I’d planned. “Alright, I should probably keep unpacking before those boxes in my bedroom become permanent side-tables.”
Turner nods. “Yeah. And I should probably keep… building.”
I smile. “Don’t lose Aragorn.”
He shakes his adorable head. “Nope.”
Slipping out of the dining room, I make my way back down the hall, climb the stairs, shutting my bedroom door softly behind me and press my back to it.
Breathe in. Breathe out.
Then I grab my phone and text Nova:
Me: I’m screwed.
Nova: Why????
Me: I AM ATTRACTED TO MY ROOMMATE. That’s why!!!