Torn Apart (Torn and Bound Duet 1)

What the hell is that supposed to mean?

“Gay people can’t flirt too?” I challenge, anger surging through me at his gall.

His dark lashes blink fast at my words. “What? No, man. I’m not a homophobe. I mean… forget it.” He digs out a hundred-dollar bill and tosses it at me. It flutters to the ground and I make no move to pick it up.

“No, dude, please explain. My girl Mia here would like to know as well.”

At least my bestie and I stand side by side as a solid force against this jock.

“A loser.” Brayden curls his lip up in disdain. “A loser in desperate need of a haircut who lives off Daddy’s money and sells test keys in order to stay relevant to his peers.”

Fuck this guy.

I stalk up to him until our chests bump. Mia wisely stays back, but I feel the tension rippling from her. We’re not confrontational people, she and I. There’s just something about this guy that amps me up.

“You gonna hit me, bro?” He laughs.

I run my tongue across my bottom lip, loving how uncomfortable it makes him. He tenses, but the stubborn ass refuses to step back. “Do you want me to hit you?” I drop my voice a few octaves, letting the words roll through the air like tires on gravel. “I’m more of a lover than a fighter, though.”

His dark eyes flash with fury and then the fucker storms away, sucking the air from my lungs with him.

“Don’t come back,” I call out. “I’ve met my asshole quota for the year.”

With his test key clutched in one hand as he stalks away, he raises his muscular arm to flip me off.

Once he’s gone, I step back into my apartment. “Sorry,” I tell Mia. “He pissed me off.”

She pats my chest and stands on her toes to press a kiss to my cheek. “That was completely warranted. If you weren’t going to put him in his place, I absolutely was.”

“All one hundred and twenty pounds of you?” I tease.

“I’m feisty,” she sasses, cocking that hip of hers out to the side.

I’m annoyed some asshole is going to be all up on her tonight at the club. One day, she’ll like one of those said assholes and then he’ll have to start hanging out with us. Can’t say I’m looking forward to that day.

“Bye, MiMi. Don’t get roofied by dude bro Brayden.”

She laughs all the way to her apartment next door. I’ve barely gotten my door closed when my phone starts ringing.

Britney Spears’ “Oops!...I Did It Again” is blasting over and over, which only means Dad needs to have a word. And it’s urgent.

Ignoring the incessant calling of my overbearing father, I walk into the kitchen and grab a Cherry Coke. After popping the tab, I make my way back over to the sofa. I kill the stupid game, hoping Mia’s house doesn’t save so we won’t be forced to play again, and finally answer Dad.

“Yo,” I grunt out and sip my sweet soda.

Annoyed silence screams through the line.

One.

Two.

Three.

“Ashton Elliot Carter.”

“Yeah, Dad?”

He sighs heavily, already exhausted over our inevitable argument. Tonight, though, he bypasses the usual lecture and cuts to the chase. “You’ll have a new roommate soon.”

I bark out a laugh. “What?”

“Don’t start,” he grits out. “This is important. With it being well into the semester, the housing is limited and—”

“No,” I snap, cutting him off. “I don’t like people.”

“Oh, please. I’m not in the mood for this today. Besides, you don’t get a say in this. The new coach is starting and I don’t have a place for him to stay.”

“Wait a minute…”

“I know it’s not ideal.”

“Ideal? Dad, I don’t want to share a space with a freaking old-ass coach. I don’t even like sports.”

“You like swimming,” he counters.

“Not the same thing,” I grumble. “This is lame.”

“Maybe it is lame, and I agree. I don’t want to subject him to this, but it’s my only option.”

This being me.

All my gayness that might be catching.

“When?”

“I’ll let you know.”

“I use that spare room for an office,” I lie. “This is going to make studying harder.”

“Ashton, we both know you don’t study.”

I smirk. “I hope he’s okay with me walking around in my boxers. Is he hot? Does he like guys?”

“Just clean out the spare room and stop being a brat.”

He hangs up on me. I laugh, knowing I hit a nerve. Dad hates when I throw it in his face that I’m gay. Before I came out to my family and friends at age fifteen, Dad had high hopes of me marrying some sweet rich girl. I sure ruined that dream he had for his only son.

I shoot out a text to Mia.

Me: Dad just dropped a bomb on me.

Mia: Need me to cancel tonight and hang out?

It’d be easy to play the needy best friend card. Unfortunately, I love Mia and I’m not some possessive friend who’ll isolate her from her friends—even if they are prissy sorority princesses—just to keep her for myself.