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)
Nova: Well the good news is, it’s as awkward as it’s ever going to be. It can only get better!
Me: I disagree.
Nova: What got you all worked up?
Me: I just walked in on him putting together a LEGO set and it’s so nerdy and cute and… and… it’s been 24 hours. I HAVE LIVED HERE 24 HOURS. It’s TOO SOON to be fantasizing!!!
Nova: Girl, I’m the wrong one to be giving advice. I was sneaking around with my boyfriend like a teenager…
Me: Not even the same. Not a little.
Nova: I had to hide him in my bedroom once, remember?
Me: Still not the same!!
Nova: It kind of is. It’s messy and inconvenient and thrilling.
Me: It’s horrifying. He saw my ass.
Nova: Please—he liked it.
Nova: In fact, he was probably jerking off to it when he was “taking his nap.”
Me: LOLOL why are you like this?
Nova: Like what? TRUTHFUL?? You’re welcome. No one else is going to be this honest.
This is ridiculous. It’s been one day.
One!
I haven’t even learned where the extra toilet paper is kept yet and already I have the hots for one of my new roommates. Not cool. Not okay. I’m new here. I’m vulnerable. I’m going to get my bearings and find my footing and this little blip of attraction will pass. Like a cold.
Still, I don’t unpack right away. I scroll my phone instead, flip my pillow twice, and wonder if he’s still in the dining room building his castle.
And whether he’s thinking about my bare ass…
turner
. . .
The weight room is quiet.
There’s music playing overhead—some EDM remix someone left on the playlist—but I’m barely aware of it. I should be focused. I usually am. This is the part of training I actually like. The solitude. The burn. The repetition that lets my brain zone out and lets my body take over.
Except today, my brain won’t shut the fuck up.
All I can think about is Poppy.
More specifically: I cannot stop thinking about the way her hips curved, the way her mouth fell open when she saw me, the way her voice squeaked when she threatened me with a spatula.
Her ass in that pink thong. Tits in that lace bra, framed by the refrigerator light like some kind of half-dressed kitchen angel sent to torment me.
I drop the barbell back into the rack and scrub a hand down my face.
I’m a terrible roommate.
She deserves to feel safe. Comfortable. Not ogled.
And to be clear, I didn’t ogle. I caught a glimpse. A very sudden, very intense glimpse. One I’ve been actively trying to erase from my brain for twenty-four straight hours.
Hasn’t worked.
As a form of punishment, I load more weight onto the bar, like that will purify me.
It doesn’t.
It just makes me sweat harder.
I exhale through my nose and reset my stance. I will not make this weird. I will not let it be weird. I will be the chill, normal, extremely respectful roommate she needs.
A crotch enters my vision and I glance up.
Luca Babineaux. My new roommate’s best friend’s fiancé. And our landlord.
Fantastic. Just what I need when I’m already one bench press away from disassociating.
“Heard you had an eventful morning at your house recently,” he says, all smug and amused, a shit-eating grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. Bastard has been waiting all day to say something.
My arms are toast, my brain is scrambled eggs, and my will to live is somewhere in the locker room with my deodorant.
“Is Nova incapable of keeping a single thing to herself?”
“Obviously not.”
“Poppy was cooking eggs,” I groan miserably. “In a thong.”
Scrap of lace between her cheeks. Thin bra. I’m only human, not made of stone. And in my bedroom, ten feet away, I could hear her humming…
Luca whistles. “And you lived to tell the tale. You’re a stronger man than me.”
“I didn’t do anything,” I snap.
“Exactly.” He keeps grinning. “That’s why I’m impressed. You’re basically a monk.”
I rest my elbows on my knees, exhaling hard. I can still see her. Those legs. The underwear. That nervous laugh. I can smell the damn eggs...
“She lives under the same roof,” I mutter. “I cannot afford to have these thoughts about her.”
But I have been. Constantly.
It’s like my brain has developed a new setting: Poppy Mode. Always on. Always aware.
“Sure you can.” Luca kneels his knee on the bench beside me and leans in like we’re having a team meeting. “You’re human. Your eyes aren’t broken. Maybe what you need is to get out of your own head. Go out. Get laid.”
I shoot him a look.
He shrugs. “I’m serious. Go find someone who doesn’t live down the hall from you to clear the pipes.”
“Jesus Christ.”
But also, he’s not wrong.
It’s been a long time since I’ve gotten laid. Still, it feels weird premeditating it.
“When is the last time you were on a date?” Luca continues probing, as if it’s his job.