“No way! Mine too!” I did a version of jazz hands, chuckling when Preston mimicked me. As I helped him get his small bag of stuff, I felt Jonah’s stare on me. It wasn’t like daggers poking my back, but there were questions.
“Need anything, roomie? I’m walking my guy here to meet his mom.”
“No.” He ran a hand over his jaw, his gaze dropping to the two goldfish on the couch.
Shit.
I dove for them, shoving them into my mouth and shrugging. “No mess. I swear! I followedthatrule.”
He blessed me with the smallest, barely traceable smile, and it felt like a gold medal. A warm, fuzzy feeling pooled in my chest, as if I’d just drunk a lot of hot cider, and I grinned back. Well, my smile was different. Bigger and made my chapped lips stretch, but it was worth it.
J.D., the ray of sunshine, rolled his eyes at me.
“Whoa, whoa. Don’t overdo it. A semi smile and an eyeroll? That’s close to being friends, which is moving way too fast for me.” I faced Preston and held out my hand. “Okay, little dude, let’s go see your mama.”
“You think she’ll have tands?”
“I’ll bet you a cookie she does.”
The last thing I heard before shutting the front door was a small chuckle. It was deep and rough, like his laughter had been bottled up for nineteen years and he was trying it out for the first time.
Man, what had J.D. so uptight and unhappy?
I couldn’t spend too much time on analyzing my roommate though—Preston darted off the sidewalk so many times he needed every ounce of my attention. I pushed thoughts of Jonah to the back of my mind and made sure to get my new four-year-old friend back safely.
* * *
I tied my plaid shirt around my waist on the walk back, enjoying a well-earned chocolate chip cookie. I even got a second one for Jonah as a thank-you for not kicking out a child. His rule of no visitors wasn’t hard to live by, but it was weird he was so damn uptight. Was it really the hockey thing? Didn’t he have friends? Michael loved the attention, so this completely opposite mindset was hard to digest.
The afternoon sun beamed down, and the brisk walk caused me to sweat a bit. It was an easy stroll to the Victorian house, and I smiled at ten different students walking with headphones in. It was wild how my overall nerves did a one-eighty once I was done with the situation at the dorm.
No more drugs and the potential to ruin my scholarship. No pressure of having Michael be disappointed in me.
I was hopeful and excited.
Hannah had promised me a job to help with the rent, and nothing would get in the way of getting good grades. I could actually enjoy this school year instead of just surviving it, as long as my grumpy roommate didn’t throw a wrench in my plan.
With a huge smile, I jogged up the wooden steps and let myself into the place, the familiar scent of lemon and sweat welcoming me.
“Have you talked to your brother yet?” he asked, his tone sharp.
“Hello to you too,” I said, ignoring where he sat at the kitchen table to weave past him and get a glass of water. “I brought you a cookie.”
“Why?” He looked up from his laptop and frowned at the packaged treat I set in front of him.
“Because I poisoned it. My plot is to actually take this whole place for myself.” I plopped down on the chair opposite him, and his nostrils flared at my joke. “Dude, relax. It’s a thank-you and an apology for letting Preston stay here.”
“Divorce sucks. I’m sorry he’s going through it.”
“I am too. I don’t know his dad at all, but his mom is fantastic, and it’s awful she’s dealing with this alone.” I studied my roommate with his intense deep brown-eyed stare and messy hair. His dark features and chiseled jawline painted a pretty picture, but it was the lack of laugh lines that bothered me. Jonah was handsome, that was obvious, but the grumpiness seemed to overtake his features. “You going to eat that cookie or what?”
He sighed like I was forcing him to eat sweets, which made no sense because a cookie was a gift to us mortals. Cookies were there before heartbreak and would be there after. They were forever.
“Thanks.” He took it out of the plastic and took a bite before nodding. “Okay, this is good.”
“Preston’s mom made them.”
He swallowed and took another chunk. “If he needs to hang out here again, it’ll be alright. I know first-hand how bad divorces can go, and well, if pretending to not have hands is what he needs, I can relax that rule.”
