The Roommate Agreement

And we were done with this conversation.

“Bye, Brie.” I hung up before she could say anything, and her text message that followed was very simple: LOL.

I knew I was being a little bit irrational over this. If Jay wasn’t my best friend, this wouldn’t be an issue, but I didn’t want to complicate things. I didn’t want to add another dimension to our friendship. Telling him I’d been crushing on him since he moved in wasn’t exactly a good idea.

Despite what Brie said, I did have to face him at least once or twice a day. I didn’t want him to be looking at me and wondering if I’d been fantasizing about him—or, hell, knowing Jay, he’d ask me outright just to get under my skin.

No. I’d made my choice. I’d talk to him about what happened last night, brushing it off as all mistakes. That was the easiest route to go down. Mostly because it wasn’t exactly all lies.

It was an accident that I’d kissed him.

Never mind that I’d wanted to step in closer and wind my fingers in his shirt, prolonging it. It was still a mistake.

Mostly because I hadn’t gotten the good ol’ drunken sleep that comes after one too many glasses of wine. Nope. My brain had me tossing and turning all night with the memory of that one kiss.

More than once I’d woken up all hot and tangled in my sheets with my heart pounding. I couldn’t remember the dreams, but I didn’t actually need to.

The gentle throbbing between my legs had told me everything I’d needed to know.

All that from one kiss. One poxy little kiss that barely even counted as one in the first place.

It was ridiculous, quite frankly.

I glanced at my phone for the time. I didn’t know what time Jay finished work, but if we were going to talk about what had happened, I was going to ply him with food. He could criticize my diet all he liked, but the way to that man’s heart—and brain—literally was through his stomach.

So through his stomach I would go.

• • •

The sound of the shower running filled the apartment as I juggled the grocery bags in my arms. I had to kick the door shut behind me before I dropped the heavier bag of the two, and I still only just made it to the island before it dropped.

Phew.

That one held wine.

All right, I’m a big fat liar. But something told me I’d be grateful for it tonight, if only so I had something to do with my hands.

I unpacked the bags, laying everything out on the countertop. I had everything I needed to butter Jay up before we tackled the hard stuff.

I put the wine in the fridge and started on the rest of it, leaving everything I needed out. By the time the shower stopped running, I’d sprayed and wiped down all the counters and swept the floor.

He’d either only just gotten in the shower when I got back, or he was taking a leaf out of my book and spending half an hour in there for no reason.

I hummed as I opened the kitchen closet and put the brush away. Then, on closing the door, I looked up.

Jay was standing in the bathroom door, eyes wide as he looked at me. He wore nothing but a black towel clutched around his waist, and much like the last time I’d seen him after a shower, water was dripping over every inch of his body.

I jerked my gaze away. I did not need to fantasize over him now.

“Shit, sorry, Shelbs. I didn’t know you were back.”

“It’s fine.” I swallowed and turned around. “I went to the store to get dinner.”

“Oh. I thought you were out with Brie.”

“Could you put some clothes on before we continue this conversation?”

“Fuck—yeah. Give me five minutes.”

He could have all the minutes he wanted. The longer he stayed away, the more likely it was that my heart would be beating normally again when he came out.

Instead of thinking about him, I shuffled into the kitchen and got started on preparing the meal. Starting with the thin steaks, I pulled them out of the packaging and cut them into thin strips.

“Sorry,” Jay said, drawing my attention over my shoulder.

He wore dark-gray sweat shorts and a white t-shirt.

“It’s fine. At least it wasn’t as bad as last time.”

“True story.”

“How was your day?” My voice went up an octave. Damn it, was I trying too hard to be normal? I was, wasn’t I?

Introverts weren’t designed for this kind of human interaction. We were more of a mumble and hide in a blanket-fort kind of people.

“It was all right. Yours?”

“Not bad.” I swallowed, tossing the last of the steak strips into the pan. “Got some work done and took on another client.”

“Awesome. What are you cooking?”