Cooper hates when I leave the patio doors open while I sit outside. He swears it fills the apartment with humidity. He’s a shit talker, is what it all boils down to. I came home from work a couple of weeks ago, and who was sitting in my very spot looking out at the view? Cooper himself.
“What did you say?” My eyes move from his shoes, black genuine Italian leather, to his dress slacks that have been tailor made for his legs and waist, and stop at his crisp white dress shirt that I have no doubt is custom as well. His forearms are on display, showing off his muscles. His shirt is unbuttoned at his throat. Cooper’s hair is still slicked back from how he styles it for work. His cornflower-blue eyes have me locked in his sights. He’s smirking, as if he knows something I don’t, and it’s making me want something I’ve never wanted before.
“I heard you say something, Hadley. We all know you talk under your breath when you think you’re alone. What’s going on now?” He squats down in front of me. My legs are up in front of me, my arms wrapped around them, my chin resting on the tops of my knees.
“I’m fucked,” I blurt out.
“I can see that. How many glasses of wine have you had by yourself?” he retorts. I snort, full-out snort. He’s my best friend. If I’m really being honest, he and Tyler are the only real friends I have.
“Not in that kind of way, though I’m getting there, and that second bottle of Riunite Lambrusco is calling my name. It’s the best eight dollars I’ve ever spent.” Cooper finds my wrist and glides his thumb over my pulse point. Dear God, what is going on here? It must be the wine talking. There’s no way my roommate-turned-best friend is now making my heart beat out of my chest.
“I brought dinner home. We’ll eat, I’ll drink some of your cheap wine, and you can tell me why you look sad and upset.”
“You’ll probably think I’m a failure after I tell you. So, don’t say I didn’t warn you.” Cooper helps me stand up. I somehow manage not to sway my body into him.
“I’m not sure that could ever happen. Come on. I stopped at Merchant’s and got food.”
“Please tell me you got baked pimento cheese, a wedge salad, and their turkey club?” I groan. Food and wine are my two biggest weaknesses. It’s something I’ve learned to embrace, even when it gives me more curves than I truly want or need.
“Don’t I always?” Cooper gives me his panty-melting smile, and once again, I’m stupefied about where that thought came from. I’m definitely blaming the wine. It has to be the culprit.TwoCooperHadley is well on her way to being smashed. Not that she gets like this a lot, but on rare occurrences, she does. It’s like dinner and a show. I have my arm wrapped around her, just in case she starts swaying. Her head is resting in the crook of my arm and chest when I hear her mumble, “Hmmm. You smell good, Coop. Like the outside air, with an undertone of cinnamon and citrus.”
Yep, it’s time to get food in her, and fast. We make it inside the apartment, where she plops down on the oversized chair. It’s her chair, or so she says. It’s a tie at what she loves more—the balcony or where she’s planted her hot-as-sin ass. I leave her where she lands, going to grab our food. We’ll just eat in the living room tonight. I’m not sure what has her down in the dumps. She’s been living with me for well over a year now, something I was reluctant to agree to. I didn’t need a roommate, especially one who’s as hot as Hadley is. I smelled trouble as soon as she set those hazel-colored eyes on me. The pleading on her face told me I’d never be able to say no to her. And I couldn’t. Fuck, all these months later, and I still can’t.
Friday nights, we always do dinner at home. We’ll either head to Alibi later, or we’ll stay in and watch movies until she passes out and I carry her to bed. More times than not, it’s from pure exhaustion and not how she is now, tipsier than normal. Her bed, though, I’ve thought about taking her on those white pristine sheets, both of us tangled up in them, gripping hair and breaths gasping.
Those thoughts have my dick perking up to life. I shake my head before glancing at her over my shoulder. She’s lying across the chair, her head tipped up, staring at the ceiling as if it holds all the answers. The long natural curls she has are hanging over the edge of the arm rest. Her shirt is hanging loosely off her shoulder, letting me know she once again isn’t wearing a bra. It’s not easy having a best friend who lives with you, especially when it’s Hadley.