“You’re not interrupting. Jax was just joking around,” Rian says, but I’m already at my bedroom door.
“Let me know when you two are done, and I’ll do my vegetables.”
I kick the door shut and throw my bag on the bed. When I hook my phone to my radio, Papa Roach’s “Scars” plays, since that’s what I was listening to at Ink Envy. For a moment, I calm myself down, pissed I showed any cards to that fucker by slamming the door. I can already picture his cocky smirk waiting for me when I open that door again.
Not much has changed since high school with Jax and me. We listen to the same music, we’re almost like the same person. Hell, even down to being into the same girl.
I gotta get a grip though, because Rian isn’t Naomi. She’s not even close to being mine. She’s a grown woman who can protect herself. My reaction is just from the stress of the store. The underlying worry that I’m going to lose everything I’ve worked so hard to achieve.
Might as well get this roommate dinner over with. I leave the seclusion of my bedroom and thank God that it’s only Rian in the kitchen.
She turns around, her blonde hair pulled back into a messy ponytail. She’s wearing the apron I got her last Christmas. I still remember the blush that crawled across her skin when she read, “Warning: spooning will lead to forking.”
“You okay?” she asks.
I hate that question. I’ve probably been asked that same question five million times in my life. It was part of the social worker’s handbook. When they come to get you because you’re not wanted, they lay their hands on your shoulders as they bend over to get face to face. Always the same question—are you okay?
“I’m good. Just didn’t want to interrupt.” I pull out the vegetables I picked up at lunch and ran up here to put in the fridge.
“You’re not interrupting. You just happened to walk in when he was trying out my batter.”
“Where is he anyway?” I ask.
“He’s gone up to the roof to heat the grill up.”
I eye her like she can cut the bullshit. “You like him?” Grabbing the cutting board, I place it on the counter and open the drawer with the knives.
“I barely know him.”
I wash the lettuce, peeling back the bad layers. “He’s not the ever-after type. He’s not like Adrian or Ethan.”
She says nothing, and when I look up from the sink, the kindness that usually radiates off her isn’t there. “Who said I want that?”
I chop the lettuce as a distraction. Rian isn’t a one-night-only kinda girl. She might think she could do it, but she can’t.
“Are you going to answer my question?”
I scoop up the lettuce and put it into a bowl, ready to peel the carrots, but Rian’s already doing that for me. She thinks I’m incapable of doing shit, which is why she always does it for me. “Even if you want a quick fuck, do you really think your new roommate is the best choice?”
She peels the carrots more forcefully now, the scraps falling into the sink at record pace. “I’m not sure that’s any of your business.”
“I’m your friend. It’s my business.”
She hands me a carrot, and I slice it into coins.
“Friends offer advice. They don’t tell someone what to do.” She buries her head in the fridge, grabbing the salad dressings.
The knife drops from my hand and I lean against the counter to face her. She turns around and startles.
“You’ll be wasting your time with Jax.”
She shakes the salad dressing and her gaze slowly rises to meet mine. “How do you know? Maybe I’m the one who changes him. Or maybe he wants someone like me. I get that I’m not what you’d consider in your league, what with me not having any tattoos or piercings, but can you really speak for a guy you haven’t talked to in almost a decade?” She puts the dressings on the table, a little harder than necessary, and grabs the salad bowl from behind me.
My shoulders slump. “You’re right.”
“What?” she snips.
I’ve never seen Rian this mad.
“Anyone would be lucky to have you. Just be careful.” I grip her shoulder and take the asparagus out of the fridge. “I’m going to grill this up on the roof. I’ll be back.”
Leaving the apartment, I rest my back against the door for a moment before heading up to the roof. The last person I want to sit down and share a meal with is Jax. Rian’s the only person I’d put myself through torture for.
Chapter Five
Rian
“What’s for dinner?” Seth breezes into my apartment and sits at the table, his thumb and forefinger descending into the salad bowl.
I snatch the bowl away before he has a chance to grab anything. “Nope. Roommates only.”
He looks over one shoulder then the other shoulder at the empty apartment. “I’m a roommate.”
“No, you’re a neighbor.”
He mocks offense. “I’ve always thought of us all as roommates.”
“You don’t pay rent for this apartment.”
“Speaking of, you stole one of my roommates. Do you know how many extra boudoir sessions I’ve had to do in order to pay my share of the rent? I’m almost desperate enough to hold a sign out on the sidewalk and dress up in a suit with a rose between my teeth.”
I stare blankly at him.
He laughs. “Thankfully, Blanca is giving me some freelance work.”
“I hadn’t heard anything about that?” I sit down.
Poor Seth’s journey toward his dream career of photography has been hard. Not horribly difficult—the man gets to see half naked women every day—but he complains about it nonstop.
“She and Ethan are doing that blog thing or whatever. She’s asked me to take some landscape shots of New York City.”
I grab his hand. “That’s great.”
He shrugs. “It’s something and keeps me from having to take over my parents’ bagel shop for a little while longer.”
“I haven’t stopped in lately. How is Mama Andrews?” I stand and grab him a beer from the fridge, then I open a bottle of wine because as long as Jax and Dylan don’t throw one another off the roof, dinner should be ready soon.
“Don’t get me started.” He sips his beer. “She asked me if I’d take pictures of her for my dad.” His head falls to the table.
I purse my lips in an attempt not to laugh. His mom is very into having an active sex life and isn’t afraid to talk to her son about it. I struggle to pull the cork from the bottle of wine. “What did you say?”
“What do you think? Hell. No. Then she asked if any of my coworkers would do it.”
“Oh, that’s reasonable.”
Seth waves me over and I hand him the bottle. He pops the cork out with ease. “No, it’s not. Why would I want my coworker to see my mom half naked, puckering her lips for the camera?”
I laugh and he can’t help but laugh too.
“Yeah, my life is a fucking joke. My mom is worried about turning on my dad and my brother is AWOL again.”
“Oh, Seth.”