Roomie Wars Box Set

Shuffling closer to her, my arms cradle her body. She rests her head on my shoulder, sniffling quietly as we sit in silence. The shadows in the dimly lit room taunt us, the wind outside picking up. The weather bureau predicted a storm earlier. Perhaps this is it. The moon is hiding behind the dark clouds refusing to grace us with its presence.

“Drew,” she whispers softly. “I need to confess something.”

Here it is. She’s about to tell me that she’s back with Jess, and that’s why she’s so upset. Instantly, my body recoils waiting with barely a breath. I’m mentally preparing my speech. It’s hateful, ugly, and full of colorful words that would even offend a sailor.

“This is hard for me to say.” Her words linger with renewed wariness. “Extremely hard. And I’m scared it’ll change everything between us.”

“You’re back with Jess,” I blurt out violently, removing my arms from the touch of her skin.

“What? No!” She shuffles away from me, offended and surprised. “The night of the wedding. You were drunk, and you made a move on me.”

Huh? I made a move on her. I’m notorious for making moves, and usually, they result in a nice session of…

Did I?

I fucked her.

No way! This is why she’s been acting all weird.

I rush to get my words out. “What kind of move?”

“I don’t know how to say it.”

Even in the dark, her cheeks appear flushed as she fiddles with the loose thread hanging from one of the cushions. The tension in the room is palpable. What I wouldn’t give to have a bottle of anything in my hand right now.

“You… you touched me. In places you haven’t touched me before.”

She says the word ‘touched’ so innocently. Despite what she’s about to tell me, I want to hold her in my arms and kiss her. Promise her that everything will be fine, and no matter what, nothing will change between us.

But like always, my ego intervenes. “Did we… did we… you know?”

“No,” she’s quick to answer. “You wanted to but I, um… kinda, you know… finished. Then, you kissed me on the shoulder and walked away.”

She finished? What does that mean?

Oh.

Once again, the penny drops. Damn, there’s been an awful lot of penny-dropping, and metaphorically, it’s sending me broke.

I’m aware that my palms are sweaty, and the room’s stifling hot. This explains why she’s been acting weird, why I have no clue what happened, and why I found myself shirtless on my bed.

The question remains—what exactly did I do to her?

She finished. So she came. I made her orgasm. It had to be more than kissing, more than a grope of a tit. I would have touched her… there. Fuck! My cock stirs beneath my scrubs. Such an inappropriate time to feel anything but concern over her wellbeing and mine.

Another penny drops. A big fucking one. The loud bang as it hits the floor reminds me of why we’re here. The purpose of this discussion.

“Okay, shit. You need to tell me everything, Zoey. We’re talking about an STD here. It’s not only about you and me, my job… fuck.” My words choke out with my head spinning out of control. What about my patients? No, it’s okay. I’ve always tested myself regularly and have been clean. Zoey needs to be honest and tell me exactly what happened between us.

“I… I didn’t even think about that… I don’t know how to say this.”

“Well, fucking say it,” I yell, frustrated and irate. “Do you not understand the severity of the situation?”

“Don’t yell at me,” she cries in a panic. “I didn’t know. And I tried to stop you, but you forced yourself on me.”

“I forced myself on you?” I struggle with the notion. I’ve never forced myself on anyone. What does that even mean? Did I hurt her? God, can this get any worse?

I switch my tone, apologetic for my actions. I wish I could remember what happened. I want to tell her I’m sorry, that I didn’t mean to hurt her.