“Hey, it’s none of my business,” Dylan says, “but I think it’s best for all if intentions are laid out on the table, so no one gets blindsided.”
Seth opens the apartment door and pops his head in. “Someone tell me why I’m sitting in an apartment all by myself with a pizza and a paused television?”
“We’re coming.” Rian stands to join him.
“I’m out for tonight. I’ll catch it later this week.” I sit on the sofa, taking into consideration all the advice being thrown my way.
Dylan is similar to me. The most serious relationship he’s ever had was with a dog he found on the street. I’ve never seen him so depressed as when the family came to pick him up.
Maybe he’s right though. I can’t live with the man who gave me the best sex of my life without making it clear that this is just a bit of fun. In two months, he’s free to go back to his life as a prince and I’ll be one step further in my career.
Chapter Twelve
Adrian
The rooftop has a table with six chairs, a few stools, lights hung from one edge of the roof to the other, and a grill in the corner next to a small garden that appears it was probably used in the summer months. One of those standing propane heaters near the seating area takes the edge off of the chill of the autumn night.
“Is the entire building welcome up here?” I ask.
Ethan slides a chair down and sits. I do the same.
“Technically yes, but it’s pretty much just ours. At least we seem to be the only ones who hang out up here.” He leans his head back and stares at the sky.
“What do you do?” I ask. I’d like to veer the conversation as far away from Sierra and him dating as I can.
“I’m a writer at a small magazine called Mars and Venus. Blanca and I write articles with opposing viewpoints.” He tips back his beer.
As I often do, I try to imagine myself in his shoes. A man who’s comfortable in his skin and his abilities. At least from what I can tell. “That’s a lot of time together.”
He stretches his legs out on the chair in front of him and laughs. “Yeah, but we’re not sick of one another yet. It’s funny, you know, how dissimilar different relationships can be.”
Oh shit, here we go. He’s going to talk about his relationship with Sierra.
“I mean, when I moved in with Sierra, I felt suffocated, but I can spend all this time with Blanca and only want more. That’s not a dig on Sierra. I think she felt the same way. ‘Cause she can be…” He glances over, probably forgetting I just met Sierra. Other than knowing every inch of her body and the spots on her body that drive her insane with want, I don’t know her well. “Sorry, I shouldn’t have said anything.”
“No, it’s okay. I’m aware you guys had a relationship prior.”
He nods. “I’m not surprised she told you.”
“And why is that?”
He shrugs, taking another pull of his beer. “That’s Sierra. She’s straight-up and doesn’t keep a lot close to the vest. Actually.” He shakes his head. “That’s not true. She keeps a lot to herself if it has to do with her, but you never have to worry about what her opinion about something is.”
I consider what he’s saying, but an ex-boyfriend always has a different view of his ex-girlfriend post-breakup, so I push what he says to the back of my mind. I’ve never met exes who can co-exist without some bitterness.
I’m not sure if it’s my face or something else, but he raises his hands and shakes his head. “Forget that. Change of topic.”
Before he can say anything else, the door opens, and Blanca and Sierra join us. Ethan drops his legs and slides the chair closer to him while Blanca looks at him as though he’s the best boyfriend ever. What must that be like? To know someone loves you for you and not for what you represent?
Sierra slides out another chair and sits down. I should have stood and pulled out the chair for her. I do it for women I have no respect for. I should definitely do it for her.
“No television show?” I ask.
She shakes her head, her gaze falling to Blanca. “Not tonight. I’m not in the mood.”
I hook my hand on her chair and slide it closer to me. “Good.”
Then it’s me who gets the best boyfriend smile, but the difference is, I’m not her boyfriend.
“Hey, E, I have something to show you.” Blanca stands and holds her hand out for Ethan’s.
“Nothing bad can follow that sentence.” Ethan accepts her hand.
“Unless it’s a pregnancy test,” Sierra calls out, laughing.
“Bite your tongue!” Blanca says.
They disappear on the other side of the building where we can’t see them. I wrap my hand around Sierra’s neck and pull her to me for a kiss. Just like last night, the pull between us is there from the moment my lips brush hers. She sinks into my hold and I slide my tongue through her parted lips. Her breath now tastes like the sweetness of white wine.
“I’ve been wanting to do that all day,” I murmur with our lips millimeters apart.
“Why didn’t you?”
With my hand still resting on the back of her neck, I draw back to see her eyes. There’s self-doubt there, which surprises me.
“Is something wrong?” I ask.
She leans back in her chair, my arm falling down. With her concentration on her wine glass, she talks to it more than to me. “My friends think we should set things straight. What’s happening between us?”
I sip my beer, the coolness coating my now-dry throat. I should’ve figured this would be a complication when I asked to move in. Truth is, my life is so fucked up, the last thing I should do is get involved with someone.
“What do you think is happening?” I ask, being a coward and throwing it back at her.
The legs of her chair screech back on the cement, and she walks to the edge of the roof, looking at the night sky. “Please don’t do that.”
“Do what?” I follow her.
“Try and deflect.”
Giggling on the other side of the rooftop can be heard and her eyes fall shut for a moment.
“Do you still have feelings for him?” I ask and find myself holding my breath, waiting for her answer.
Her forehead wrinkles. “No.”
“Are you sure?”
She huffs. “Yeah, I’m sure.”
“Good.” Why is that good? I have no idea, but I didn’t like the idea that Ethan and Blanca seem to bother her.
But jealousy can’t be the reason I fuck her tonight. I live in a world with no consequences, but there are some here. The fact that I slept with this girl last night and now she’s my roommate is a consequence that never occurred to me when my only goal was not to go home to my dysfunctional family.
“You leave in two months,” she says.
“I do.”
“So I’d rather not get serious with you.”
“Okay. Me too.” I fail to mention that the reason why is because I’ve been promised to someone else.
“Friends then?”
“Friends who kiss?” I push, knowing two months in an apartment with Sierra will lead to a serious case of blue balls.