“We put her in an empty single while some student was away on one of those foreign exchange programs for the semester.”
Just great. I’ll have to move temporarily? What a pain. Jax and Emerson both have roommates, so I can’t stay with them. Maybe at Amerie’s place, although Brady is probably over. Shit!
“Lucky for you, missy,” Roland says, finally looking at me again, “I can simply release the lock on the door between your connecting rooms, so you can come and go that way for now. If that’s all right with this guy.” He turns to check with Cal.
My breath lodges in my throat. Our connecting door will be unlocked? I will have to go in and out through Cal’s room? While better than uprooting myself for a week, I’m not so sure about this solution. Cal is agreeing, though, and is already shoving aside his IKEA-looking filing cabinet from where it blocks the door on his side. There’s nothing on my side of the door except some Fae fan art drawings. I feel uneasy about him seeing them and knowing I’m a fantasy fan girl. Oh well, so what?
Roland takes out a master key and unlocks the tamper-proof lock, and I’m suddenly looking at my unmade bed. And of course, wouldn’t you know it? I didn’t even makeshift make it today, nope it’s just a crumpled mess of covers and sheets. My bad.
“Hmm,” Cal comments, crowding over me to peer into my messy room. I elbow him again, enjoying his resulting “oomph.”
“Say, I can still get you temporary housing if needed,” Roland comments after witnessing our little interaction.
Resigned, I shake my head and call for inner peace. “No, thank you, we’ll make it work.”
“Great,” Roland says. “Just keep this low-key as I’m not supposed to unlock doors between co-ed rooms.”
Cal slaps the man on his back. “You got it, my guy, it’s on the DL.”
Roland smiles as he leaves. Apparently, the effects of Cal’s charm aren’t limited to women.
I push past Cal and enter my room, but when I close the door, it slowly creeps open of its own accord. Not all the way, but there is a slight, one-inch gap, which feels like the Grand Canyon. If I thought I could hear Cal before, it’s triple so now. His laughter is as clear as day as he shuffles away, whistling to the ABBA song he put on for me.
I’m just about to shove him from my mind altogether when a knock on our connecting door has me jumping like a startled cat.
“Yes?” I ask, hating the note of anxiety in my tone.
“Your books, madam,” comes Cal’s voice, which currently sounds as if he’s imitating the staff from Downton Abbey.
I clear my throat. “Come in,” I manage to deliver in an equally refined voice in return.
A grinning Cal appears and my foolish heart races. Without another word, he places the stack of books on my desk, bows dramatically, and leaves.
I’m grinning now, too. Dammit! This is going to be a long week.
Chapter Eight
Make that a long night
What a difference an unlocked door makes. Obviously, I always knew Cal was on the other side of the closed door, but currently, I can hear every move he makes and vice versa. And now I can also picture his room in detail.
Earlier, Roland dropped off a copy of Cal’s key for me, but whenever I’ve entered, or left, Cal hasn’t been there. Naturally, I knock and announce my presence just in case, but there’s never an answer, which has worked out nicely.
Until now. Nighttime. When Cal is back in his room and I’m right here and we both can sense one another. The tension is thicker than Cal’s biceps, and I hate that my mind has made that inane comparison. Still, I wonder if he feels it, too, or if it’s just me being pathetic?
“I hate going to bed this early,” Cal calls out.
Early? It’s midnight! From beneath the covers in my bed, I shoot a glare at the door. Not that he can see me. It’s dark and the door is only open a sliver. “You’ll feel differently in the morning.”
“I’d rather feel differently right now,” Cal whines. “Can I at least play music?”
“No,” I bite out, and for a horrifying second, I realize I sound like my mother. A few minutes of silence go by and I assume he’s given up and is going to bed.
I am wrong.
“Tell me a story,” Cal says.
“What? I can’t even with you. Are you five?”
