“Why?” He leaned down, getting in my face. “Why the fuck do you care who I talk to?”
“Because—” The words stuck in my throat. Because I can’t stop thinking about you. Because the idea of someone else touching you makes me want to commit violence. Because I want to be the one making you moan like that. “Because he could be a criminal, James,” I managed to say at last, spinning up a lie as fast as I could. “This part of town is full of weirdos and now he knows where we live. What if he tries to break in or murders you? Dad would never forgive me.”
“Kent,” James said through gritted teeth, clearly not believing a single word I said. “If you ever touch my phone again, you’re out. Got it?”
“Look, I said I was sorry?—”
“Understood?!”
There was no fighting him on this one. I’d really put my foot in it this time. I let out a long sigh. “Fine.”
“I mean it, Kent,” he growled. “That’s your last strike.”
“I said fine!” I barked back, turning away from him on the couch. “Just… go to bed.”
He huffed, but he didn’t say another word. Within a matter of minutes he was in bed, the covers pulled up to his chin. Meanwhile I didn’t move. I just laid there, staring at the wall, shame, self-loathing, and jealousy filling me from head to toe.
Chapter 9
James
My laptop was acting up again. I’d been having a hard time getting it to charge. Which was great, because I really couldn’t afford to replace it.
I plugged the charger in again, wiggling it around until the little light finally blinked on. The connection was loose. I had a feeling Kent had tripped over it in his drunken stupor last night and yanked it hard enough to damage the port.
Another thing to add to the list of ways he’d made my life harder since moving in.
I glanced over at the couch where he was still passed out, one arm thrown over his face, his mouth slightly open. He’d been asleep since I’d threatened to kick him out last night, and I was grateful for the silence. The last thing I needed this morning was another confrontation about my dating life that he seemed to have strong opinions about.
My phone buzzed on the desk. I picked it up, seeing the familiar shirtless torso profile picture pop up. It was the guy from downstairs again. He was quickly becoming a regular thing it seemed.
Him: Hey, weird question for you.
Me: Please tell me you don’t have an STI…
Him: No! Nothing like that. You’re the only person I’ve been seeing lately.
Well, that was weirdly sweet. Or did that mean I was just easy? I shrugged. Better not to read into it too much.
Me: What’s up?
Him: I had some free time this afternoon and wondered if maybe you wanted to go on a date or something? Nothing big. Just coffee.
My heart did a little flip in my chest. A date? That was unexpected. I figured I was nothing but a booty call to this guy. After all, I’d pretty much just been using him as a cock to ride for stress relief. But at the same time, there was something sweet about the gesture. It had been averylong time since anyone had asked me on a date.
Me: Yeah. That sounds fun. I could use some coffee right now anyway.
Him: Cool. How about 2pm at that place on Pike? The one with the good pastries? I need to carb up for my run today.
Me: Sounds perfect. See you then.
I set my phone down and felt a small smile tugging at my lips. Maybe this wouldn’t be so bad. Maybe the guy downstairs was actually interested in more than just sex. It would be nice to have someone who wanted to get to know me, who saw me as more than just a convenient fuck.
The couch creaked behind me. I glanced over to see Kent stirring, his hand sliding down from his face. He groaned, the sound rough and pained, and I felt a petty satisfaction knowing he was hungover as hell.
Good. Maybe it would teach him not to drink himself stupid and invade my privacy.
He sat up slowly, wincing at the movement. His hair stuck up at odd angles, and there were pillow creases on his cheek. Despite everything, despite how angry I was at him, I couldn’thelp but notice how he looked in the morning light streaming through the window. Vulnerable. Almost soft.
