The Roommate Equation

Unlike my older brother, Dylan never treats me like a kid. We’re only two years apart, but Sloan acts as if I’m still twelve years old. My brother is way too protective of me. If any of his friends steal a glance in my direction, he disarms them with a look that says I will kill you if you touch her.

And he would.

The first and only time Sloan caught Dylan staring at me with interest, he went ballistic. I’d just gotten out of the pool and was drying myself off with a towel when Dylan rolled his tongue across his bottom lip like he wanted to devour me. Like I was the popsicle he wanted to lick on that hot, sunny day.

It was the summer after I had a significant growth spurt, and my boobs were practically spilling out from my top. I never wore a bikini again, always one-piece suits from that day forward. And because of my brother, Dylan never looked at me like that again.

I should walk away and put Dylan in my rearview. He leaves for college again in two days, home from MIT only for the winter break. I stay because Dylan asked me—because I would do almost anything for him.

He looks at me with a blank expression, completely unreachable.

“What are you thinking about?” I ask.

“You,” he says without hesitation.

How can he say that without any emotion?

I’m dying on the inside, my heart ready to explode.

Dylan stares up at the starless sky. “Have you ever thought about something so much that your head hurts?”

I have no idea where he’s going with this question, but I play along. “Yeah, I guess.”

“You make my head hurt, Ash.” He crosses his arms over his chest, his eyes now fixed on me. “You drive me fucking crazy. Ever since I got back, you’re all I can think about.”

“I never did anything to you.”

He shakes his head. “No, that’s where you’re wrong. You make me feel things I shouldn’t…” Dylan pinches the bridge of his nose between his fingers and groans. “Your birthday was last night.” He slides his hand onto my waist. “You’re eighteen now.”

Last night, my parents threw me a surprise party at my house. They invited all of my friends and neighbors. But Dylan was the only person I noticed among the crowd when they yelled surprise.

“I didn’t get you a present,” he says.

“It’s okay. You came to my party. That’s good enough for me.”

He smirks. “I want to give you something.”

I narrow my eyes. “And what is that?”

He wets his lips with his tongue. “A kiss.”

“You want to kiss me?”

He nods and then pulls me closer, digging his fingers into my hip.

“What about Sloan? He’ll kill you if he finds out.”

Dylan gives me one of his boyish grins that cause my heart to skip a beat. “Can you keep a secret, Ash?”

I nod, and then his lips crash into mine.

Chapter Two

Ash

Seven years later…

I run up four flights of stairs, winded by the time I reach the top landing. You would think after climbing these stairs for the last two years, I would have gotten my ass into shape. Maybe the extra rice I added to my burrito at lunch wasn’t such a great idea.

Yeah, probably not.

I lean forward, hands on my thighs as I struggle to catch my breath. With only thirty minutes to change into something respectable, I need to get my butt into gear. I doubt the casting director will excuse my lateness because I almost died running up the stairs.

I need the quick money from this television commercial. Working for the top talent agency in the country gives me a slight advantage when it comes to casting calls. For the last few months, I’ve been working for Vinnie Sax, whose name alone opens tons of doors in Hollywood. The pay isn’t great, and I mostly run errands, schedule appointments, and make coffee. So, that’s why I can’t miss even the smallest opportunities, like a commercial for a no-name energy drink.

As I inch toward my apartment at the end of the hall, I blink a few times to clear my vision. The Three-Day Notice taped to my door must be a figment of my imagination.

At least I wish it were fake.

Because this sure looks real.

I rip the paper off the door, reading it several times before reality sinks in, and I have to stop myself from crying. Six weeks ago, my car broke down and ate up most of my paycheck. I didn’t have much money before that happened, and now, I’m two months behind on the rent. My landlord agreed to let me pay him in installments, but apparently, he’s going back on our deal.

This is my life.

I’m the Murphy’s Law girl.

Anything that can go wrong will.

I stick my key into the lock and cheer when the doorknob turns. At least my landlord didn’t lock me out, not yet, anyway. Stumbling toward the kitchen, I kick off my heels, starved and ready to devour the leftover pizza I saved for dinner.