“Make sure you start on it right away. Johann already has a head start,” my mom says.
“I need to get to work now,” I say.
“That’s fine. Your dad and I are going with a few other friends to talk to the administrators of the SAT. We think there should be different ones for gifted kids. They all shouldn’t be able to score perfect.”
“And that’s not a knock on you, sweetheart,” my dad says.
“Although you should’ve taken it over,” my mom says.
I roll my eyes. I didn’t need to take it over. I had an excellent score, she just still isn’t over the fact that Johann scored better than I did. “I gotta go. Work and all.”
“Bye, sweetheart,” my dad says.
“Don’t forget, mum’s the word. No posting on social media about doing the math—”
“Got it, Mom. Bye.”
“Love —”
I click off the phone, then pull up the email with all the details. The problem will be emailed to me directly by a Dr. Giroux. Once I finish, I send him my work and am only to talk to him. They don’t disclose how many people are trying to solve the problem, but as soon as the right answer is given, everyone will be notified of the winner. And there’s a twenty-five-thousand-dollar prize that they would prefer go to continued education but understand they cannot dictate that.
Dylan’s loud voice interrupts my concentration and I rise from my bed to see what’s going on. It’s been only one day since my entire roommate situation took a one-eighty. I went from living with a couple to two men. One of which I still haven’t really gotten to know well.
“There are rules here,” Dylan says.
I press my ear against my bedroom door.
“Just relax, Phillips. I’m not looking for complications,” Jax says.
None of us ever use Dylan’s last name. Mostly because when Dylan introduces himself to someone, he never uses his last name. Even his business cards at Ink Envy only have Dylan in a black block font. He’s always touchy about his middle name too.
“I just want to make it clear—you aren’t to touch her.”
Jax laughs sarcastically as my palm flattens on the door as though Dylan’s recent bodyguard behavior has anything to do with romantic feelings for me. He’s your friend and only moved into your apartment so you didn’t have to live alone with a guy you don’t know. Do not think of this as anything more.
Jax’s laugh abruptly cuts off. “Tell me, Phillips, are you touching her?”
“None of your business.”
“So this is a Naomi situation all over again?”
Naomi? I mentally mark that name to ask Knox about later.
“No. Rian is just…”
“What?” Jax eggs him on.
Dylan groans. The same tone he uses when his employees call in sick and he has to go in. “Different.”
“She’s into girls?” Jax asks.
“No!”
“So you want to nail her and are afraid, by comparison to me, you’ll come up short?”
“Fuck no!” Dylan yells.
I slowly back away from the door. I guess that answers the question I’ve never asked anyone but myself.
I’ve wanted Dylan since he moved in across the hall with Knox. They’ve known each other since high school. But when the question comes to his feelings for me, the answer isn’t only no—it’s hell no.
I sit on the edge of my bed. Someday I need to get over this crush I have on a guy who doesn’t even know I exist—at least not in that way. Maybe I should list all the reasons why we would never work. Perhaps our differences are too big to ever allow us to meet in the middle.
It’s the classic tale—good girl wants bad boy. Cliché enough to be a romance novel. Not realistic. I shouldn’t want a guy who thinks of commitment as a life sentence. He sure as hell doesn’t want a girl whose only experience is a handful of half adept short-term boyfriends.
God help me.
I pick up a pillow and groan. I’d scream, but they’d hear me and I’m pretending like I’m not up yet. Which shows how much Dylan knows my schedule and routine. I’m always the first one dressed and ready.
Their voices grow softer. Dylan’s door next to mine shuts minutes later.
I slide my shower cap on my head. Now’s my time to escape, so I open my door and tiptoe across the living area to the bathroom.
“Good morning,” Dylan says.
I jump and circle back around. He’s in workout clothes and has a bag hanging from his shoulder. My gaze goes to the microwave clock in the kitchen. It’s only seven-thirty. The shop was open last night, and he didn’t return home until after one.
Someone hit me with a sledgehammer. It’s so pathetic that I know that.
“Morning.” I slide my shower cap off my head. “Where are you off to?”
“The gym.” He grabs a bottle of water from the fridge. “Ethan asked me to start going with him first thing in the morning rather than later. I guess love makes you eat. Seth’s supposed to come too.” The way his mouth scrunches to the side on the word love means he never wants to find out. More evidence to mark under commitment-phobe.
“Enjoy.” I wave and keep to my mantra to take a shower and get ready for work. I miss being able to work from home but my job changed their requirements and now I have to work from the office several days a week.
“You should be fine. Jax just got home smelling like he closed the bar down. He’ll probably pass out. Shouldn’t bother you.”
I pause by the bathroom door. Usually I’d turn around and smile and thank him. Be polite and courteous. But a bitter taste fills my mouth—because he’s acting like one of Blanca’s older brothers. I never asked for, nor do I need any saving from Jax.
“Have a great workout.” I step into the bathroom, shut the door, and flick the lock.
Have a great workout? Way to really give him a piece of your mind, Rian.
I turn on the shower to the hottest possible temperature so that the mirror will fill with steam and I won’t have to look at myself. I need a life. One where my obsession with Dylan isn’t the main focus.
Screw him. I’m baking lemon cake today.
Chapter Two
Dylan
“We don’t need to go balls to the wall on the first day,” Ethan says next to me, his finger hovering over the treadmill’s buttons, his feet pounding on the moving belt.
“I thought you worked out?” I ask, not adjusting my speed or incline.
“I run. Occasionally. I’ve been blessed with a great metabolism.”
I glance at him. “Until Blanca?”
He groans. “You should see what she can consume. And then there’s something inside me that says I’m the man, she can’t out eat me.”
“Hence the gut.” I pat my stomach.
He cringes. He hasn’t gained enough to be that noticeable, but no harm in him thinking he has. It’ll keep him coming to the gym with me and get me out of the damn apartment while Rian is getting ready for work.
Ethan looks down at his stomach and I want to bust out laughing, but I up the incline.