Room Mated: Standalone Reverse Harem Romance

When he’d played drums at the bar, he’d been animated and excited with a sort of cocky energy. But today, he looked completely different. Like a world-weary traveler who’d seen it all. Who’d seen too much, perhaps.

The beautiful melody came to an end, and the last notes echoed around me. Jude slumped on the piano bench, as if he’d put everything he had into the music.

And maybe he had.

Tentatively, I knocked on the glass door with one knuckle. He looked up, an expression I couldn’t read crossing his face. Then he motioned me to come in.

The small room was barely big enough for the upright piano, Jude, and the bench, but I squeezed in. There was a wooden chair next to the piano, and I moved a folder of sheet music to sit down. “That was beautiful.”

“Thank you.”

“And also sad.”

“It was supposed to be.” Jude’s eyes were on the piano, not me. I hated that he felt responsible for what happened to me last week.

“I heard you’re playing with your band tonight.”

A pained expression crossed his face. “I tried to get out of it, but there’s no one else who can play the drums. I—”

“I’m glad you’re playing,” I said firmly. “You enjoy it. And you’re really good at it.”

“Even after what happened last week, you still think I should play there?”

“Of course. I don’t blame you—I blame Mason.”

Jude looked shocked. “What? Why?”

I blew out a breath. “Because he was right there with me. He’s a big, strong guy—coordinated and athletic. He shouldn’t have let it happen.”

Jude was clearly upset. “It wasn’t his fault, Kylie. He couldn’t have known what that jerk would do. Please don’t blame him. He would’ve never willingly let that happen to you.”

“Exactly,” I said, and Jude looked confused. “Think about what you just said, your exact words… only this time, apply them to yourself, not Mason.”

Jude’s alarm faded as he realized I didn’t really blame Mason. But he wasn’t willing to give himself the same benefit of the doubt he’d just given his friend. “I invited you there.”

“Yeah, you did. And I was glad you did. I wanted to go, and except for what happened at the end, I had fun. Would you still blame yourself if you’d invited me there and our car got rear-ended on the way over and I ended up with whiplash?”

“Yes,” Jude said, and I reached out to put my hand on his arm.

“Then that’d be dumb, too. The only one who's at fault is that drunk asshole who put his hands on me. It sucked, but it’s over, and I’ve moved on. I need you to move on, too, so I can have my friend back.”

He nodded, though I wasn’t sure he was convinced. “I guess I haven’t been much fun this week.”

I grinned, trying to lighten the mood. “The influx of booze has been fun.” Then I sighed. “But no, you haven’t been much fun—it was kind of like rooming with two Parkers this week. I don’t expect you to always be your usual good-natured self, but I hate seeing you beat yourself up over something that isn’t your fault.”

He released a deep breath. “I get that. But guilt’s not an easy thing to let go of.”

An evil smile formed on my lips. “Ah, that’s where you’re wrong. Our country’s crime and punishment system has a way of dealing with that. You do something wrong, you feel guilty. Then you’re punished and your slate is wiped clean.”

For the first time, Jude’s face showed interest. “I’m going to be punished?”

I nodded. “Yes. Right now, in fact.”

“How?”

I moved my hand back and forth, as if banging a gavel. “Your punishment will be subjected to me playing the only song I know.”

“Chopsticks?” he asked, sliding down the bench to make room for me.

“Even worse.” I settled next to him, hunting for the right key to start on. “Twinkle, Twinkle Little Star.” I hit a key twice, searching for the next one. I was only off by one before I found it. As I continued to plunk out the tune—sort of—Jude leaned close to me to whisper in my ear.

“You’re right, this definitely counts as punishment.” But then he put his left hand on the lower keys and played some sort of accompaniment. It made Twinkle Twinkle sound a hell of a lot better. Of course, it also meant I had to play my part in rhythm, but I did my best to keep up.

Our last notes, slightly dissonant ones on my part, echoed through the room when we finished. Faintly, I heard someone playing the violin in another room over, and it made me grin. “The other musicians probably thought it was you playing that.”

He shook his head. “Trust me, they didn’t. But if they did, I guess it’s all part of my punishment.”