Always Mine (Roommate Duet 5)

“Yep! Blake will be here in an hour to pick me up.”

Sophie lets out a squeal. “Great. That means I get to meet the man who’s taking my sister out. Do you know where you’re going yet?”

“Nope, he said it was a surprise but to wear something comfortable.”

A snort escapes her as she looks at me from head to toe, smirking. “That outfit is comfortable, huh?”

“Soph. I dance in fewer clothes than this in front of hundreds of people. It’s comfortable-ish, almost like wearing a nightie. Plus, it’s sexy and shows off my nipple rings,” I explain, and she nods, chuckling. As I grow more giddy about tonight, Liam forces me back to reality.

“You don’t need to be showing off anything or going anywhere with him.” He stands, grumbling as he scowls.

Sophie gives him a what the fuck look and so do I.

“Excuse me? Don’t you have a wife to worry about instead?” I ask with my hands on my hips, but he doesn’t take the bait to argue. Instead, Liam shakes his head and walks to the kitchen. Moments later, I hear cabinet doors slamming.

Sophie lowers her voice. “Screw him. I’m happy for you. Don’t leave before I meet Mr. Hot Cop. I need a shower. I’m sweaty from playing in the concert hall all day. After lunch, the A/C broke, so it was like practicing in the pits of hell for four hours.”

“Sounds horrible.” I cringe, knowing just how miserable it’s been outside lately. She’s been practicing on the weekends because they have a special fundraiser gala in a few weekends for all the rich people who donate ridiculous amounts of money to the symphony.

She nods. “It was.”

I watch as Sophie climbs the stairs, then go to the kitchen where Liam’s loudly making a sandwich. He slams down everything he touches, and it’s painfully obvious he’s trying to get my attention. I go to the entryway and burn a hole in the back of his head as I watch him.

“What’s your fucking problem?” I finally ask between gritted teeth, and he glares at me.

“My problem? You want to know what my goddamn problem is?”

I’m already tired of his dramatics. “Yeah, I do. That’s why I asked.”

“I told you I don’t like the guy. You’re naïve enough, Maddie. That’s why you were scammed into buying a stolen car, and now you’re going on a date with a womanizer. He’s known for banging chicks, then ghosting them. Blake’s the kind of bastard who’ll take your virginity, then leave you high and dry with promises he won’t fulfill.”

Glancing down at my fingernails, I pretend to be bored with this conversation. I lick my lips, then look up and watch his vein pulse in his neck. He’s pissed, but I don’t care, because I am too. I move across the kitchen until I’m close enough to smack him because he more than deserves it right now, but I play nice and keep my hands to myself.

“Maybe I want a real man who can take my damn V-card and give me what I need for once,” I tell him, and Liam’s scowl intensifies. “Plus, it’s not like he’d be the first man who’s left me with some sort of expectation, now will it?” I stare at him. He opens his mouth, but I interrupt before he can speak. “You. Are. Married,” I remind him. “You kissed me and then came home two days later with a wife. So the moment you slipped a ring on that woman’s finger was the moment you had zero say or opinions about anything I do, especially when it comes to who I go out with. You should be worrying about her, not me, so stop fucking caring so much about what I’m doing. Got it?”

Fuck, that felt good to get off my chest.

“Mads,” he chokes out.

“Don’t call me that like we’re friends. We’re not. Not anymore. We’re roommates, and that’s it. So starting now, right this goddamn minute, I need you to stop acting like a protective older brother and back off. I’m not a child. I don’t need you butting into my business or telling me what I should and shouldn’t be doing. Do you understand? Do you hear me loud and fucking clear?” I’m seething, my chest rising and falling as I glare at him.

His sad and desperate eyes meet mine, but I push it away. It’s not the first time he’s looked at me like this, but it better be the last.

“I’m sorry,” he finally says, but I can’t tell if he truly means it.

“You should be,” I throw back as he grabs his food and stops.

“But I’m not sorry for wanting what’s best for you and keeping you safe,” he states.

“What’s that mean? You don’t think I’m capable of taking care of myself?” I cross my arms.