CHAPTER ONE
BAILEY
I've reached a whole new low.
I mean, there are lows, and then there's standing on your stepbrother’s doorstep with your tail between your legs because you caught your boyfriend cheating on you with your college roommate low. They didn’t even have the decency to do it in her bed.Nope.Apparently mine was better. I almost feel sorry for Chloe because Harley couldn’t find his way around the clitoris if you paid him to, and I have to say that she’d probably have more fun studying an old sock.
I know that Harley and I weren’t dating that long, but his cheating on me is still a blow to my pride. Even more so because he refused to have sex with me. Imean, we fooled around and did other stuff, but the jerk lied to me and said that he was saving himself for marriage. I wasn't exactly over the moon when he told me, but I accepted it and didn’t push him on it because I wanted him to feel seen and understood.
I had been with other guys before, and yes, I missed the feeling of being used and fucked six ways from Sunday, but hey, what am I if not a supportive girlfriend?
He was a complete and total waste of my time, and I can’t bring myself to stay there tonight. I don’t want to listen to whatever either one of them has to say because, frankly, no amount of words would make this situation any better.
So, here I am, standing on the front porch of the one house I never thought I’d be at, about to ask the one person who hates me more than anything if I can stay the night.
Here is the closest place to campus I could think of to come on such short notice. Even though on any other day, I’d much rather poke my eyeballs out. I don't see that I have any other choice but to suck it up for one night and figure the rest out tomorrow.
I inwardly cringe when I knock for the third time, and my heart flies right to my throat when the soft click of the lock sliding open cuts through the quiet. I stand back, nervously watching as the handle turns, and the door swings open, revealing a tall, very pissedoff Roman Graystone. His dark hair is disheveled, and I wince because if I just woke him up, the chances of him agreeing for me to stay here have slimmed dramatically.
“What the fuck do you want?”
Great.
He’s in a mood, as usual.
Love that for me.
Roman is a fucking psycho, that, I've always known. Still, rumor has it, he and his best friends, Jace and Colton, are in some sort of secret society or whatever these days, and if their ‘fuck right off’ demeanor is anything to go on, I can understand why people are so afraid of them. Not me, though. It would take a lot more than a bunch of tattoos and permanent scowls to scare me away.
Jace and Colton are the epitome of unholy temptation. They’re all sharp edges and silence, and when the three of them are in a room together, they’re fucking devastating. Brutal and built to ruin. I’d be lying if I said that I hadn’t pictured all three of them fucking me senseless, but that’s nothing more than a dark and depraved fantasy, because Roman is a giant asshole, and it would never happen.
“I…” I clear my throat, preparing for the onslaught of insults he’s about to hurl my way, but I stand a little straighter, trying to appear bolder when I want nothing more than to turn around and run for the hills. “Ineed a favor,” I say as monotone as possible, and I inwardly praise myself for my resolve. He says nothing. He doesn’t so much as flinch as I stand beneath the warm glow of his porch light, hating how desperate I must look, holding onto my textbooks for dear life with my overstuffed suitcase on the porch floor at my side.
His cerulean gaze slides over my body from head to toe, and I resist the urge to squirm beneath his obvious contempt toward me, pinning me in place. He’s in nothing but a pair of baggy gray sweatpants, and Jesus fucking Christ, he looks like a snack. I catch myself and quickly look away, because the last thing I need right now is for him to accuse me of checking him out.
I mean, was I? Yes. Does he look hot as fucking hell right now? Also, yes, and anyone with eyes could see that. The sharp lines of his abdomen disappear into that sexy V, and it isn't fair that he’s this fucking hot because he's usually a total dick to me. Still, I don’t want him to know any of this, so I don't dare look in his direction in case he chooses now of all times to be perceptive.
That’s the kind of thing he’d use against me and, with one more year of college to get through, I’d rather not spend the rest of my days humiliated and ostracized because he’d sure as shit find a way to make that happen.
“Where’s your dickhead boyfriend? Why can’t youask him?” he finally says, and my gaze shifts back to him. His blue eyes, so deep they're almost the color of the ocean, are now focused on my face, and not on my body, making breathing a little easier.
“We broke up. I walked in on Harley and my roommate, Chloe, fucking in my bed, and I just can’t be there right now,” I say, not portraying just how nervous I am talking to him about my personal life, and I brace myself for his rejection.
“So, what does that have to do with me?” I knew that was coming. Roman might be a lot of things, but he isn’t stupid. He saw my suitcase, yet he’s going to make me ask him anyway. He can’t just do the respectable thing and question if I’m alright.That would be too friendly.
“Nothing. It isn’t your problem, and I’m sorry that it’s so late. I just need a place to crash for the night. I’m happy to sleep on the couch. You won’t know I’m here, I swear.” His eyes pierce right through me, and the silence that stretches between us has me on edge as he stands there, wordlessly and unamused.
Is he majoring in mind games? Or is he just naturally gifted in making people forget how to act human whenever they’re crazy enough to talk to him? He crosses his arms over his broad chest, and I don't miss the way his muscles flex, revealing the trail of black ink sprawling across every inch of his arms, even more distinct beneath the low glow of the amber porch light.
Without a word, he sidesteps, and for a second, I think he's going to slam the door in my face, but instead, he eases it open wider before gesturing me inside with a nod. I hesitate in the doorway, and my heart starts hammering inside my chest at his close proximity. He doesn’t bother to move to give me room to walk past, and his towering body, so close to mine, only ramps up my anxiety.
I don’t think I’ve met anyone so intense in my life.
My much smaller body brushes against his skin as I pass, and I curse myself for my reaction because any indication of how unsettled he makes me feel is sure to go against me somehow.
I walk past the threshold, immediately grateful for the sudden warmth that hits my face. It’s October, which means that it’s jacket and fuzzy scarf weather, only I was standing out there for who knows how long in nothing but a cropped band tee and a thin pair of black leggings.
The door closes with a click behind me, and I turn back around to get my bag, but when I notice it in Roman’s hand, I can't fight the look of surprise on my face.
