Something gnaws at me inside. Even though Ty’s accommodations are nice—generous—it feels a little wrong. I shouldn’t have to sneak around for some guy. I wouldn’t know from experience, but my uncle had an affair once. My aunt caught him hiding his texts and skulking around, and it feels a little like that. Their whole family crumbled because of it. Even if Ty and I aren’t romantically involved, why am I allowing this to happen? I haven’t been here long, but why have I stopped looking for apartments and ads for roommates?
As I stare up at Ty’s handsome face, I know the answer. I just don’t want to admit it.
“I’ll text next time,” I answer.
He arches a brow, hooking a hand atop the doorframe as he leans in. “So you did save my number?”
When his cool blue eyes connect with mine, I have to look away. “I did.”
“Well, use it.”
For a second, I swear I can’t breathe.Make eye contact with him again, Avery. Prove to yourself this is nothing. He’s a roommate. A friend.
But when I find his face again, my tongue thickens, and I barely spit out a reply. “I will.”
That seems to be good enough for him because he gives me a small smile. My heart stutters, and I want to punch it into submission. I grip the door, ready to shut him out. “Don’t worry. I’ll stay out of your hair as much as I can. I won’t be around much. I have plants and practice to tend to. I have other friends besides you.”
Nothing screamsHey, I have almost no friends!more than saying I have friends.
He nods. “We just need to be mindful.”
“Mindful. Yeah. Exactly.” My cheeks strain as I beam at him, and there’s no doubt in my mind that my smile is probably scary-big. As the door shuts in his face, I swear a shadow of disappointment flashes over it.
“Geez Louise, pepper cheese,” I whisper to myself as I press my back against the door.
Ty Brewster is attractive. Anyone with fully functioning eyes can see that, but that isn’t the problem. The problem is the fact that he makes me feel… something. Maybe it’s the rush of being around someone new. Maybe it’s the fact that he doesn’t scream at me when I leave a cabinet door open or forget to put my plate in the sink. It might even be because he opened his home to me. Perhaps it’s a little bit of all of those things.
All I know for certain is that despite how scary Ty may appear, he isn’t. He’s kind and generous and… Panic streaks through me.
Why, Avery? Why do you always have to screw things up?
Having a crush on the guy who pity-invited me to stay with him is the worst possible thing that could happen to me. Well, one of the worst things.
My stomach sinks as Ty’s soft blue eyes pop back into my head. I’m completely enamored with him.
Fudge nuggets.
Obsessing over hobbies or books or even careers is one thing, but men is something different entirely. I can’t live with him and feel this way. This bizarre, jittery, too excited, too much way. I wish he’d be mean like all the others. He may look gruff with all that pensive, stoic staring, but I’ve seen him—experienced him—be sweet. And that’s the worst part.
As I turn on my shower and grab my razor and facewash, I make a mental note to text Larissa. I need a distraction from my distraction. From Ty. Whatever little double date Larissa has dreamed up, I’m game.
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
TY
Avery never texted me,and I’m not sure how to feel about it. All through watching film with the team this morning, the only thing I could think about was whether or not she’d finally send me a message. I figured our conversation would at least prompt some action. She showered and went on with her night. Maybe I should have too, but it’s now been 48 hours since we crossed paths, and I’ve kind of missed her.
How do you miss someone who lives right down the hall? I’ve never had this thought about a friend before.
Which is why I have to text her. Because she’s just a friend. I don’t hesitate to reach out to Rami or my mom. Avery’s no different.
Pulling out my phone, I open a blank text and choose her name. And then I freeze. It’s ridiculous how long it takes me to type a simple text to Avery. Despite the wall of books in my room, I’m no wordsmith. I often say the wrongthing. Some may say I have a talent for it, and for that reason, I like to keep most of my thoughts to myself. Avery spouts off whatever random thing comes to mind, and here I am, unable to press send on a simple text.
I should give her space. I should leave her alone until she finds a place of her own—but I can’t. Something keeps drawing me to her, causing my frantic fingers to type and delete and type again. As much as I hate her being in a situation that could upend her entire life, I hate the thought of her sleeping in her car again more.
I fall onto my bed, trying to think of the perfect thing to say.
Finally, I settle on:When are we starting dance lessons?
