The Roommate Equation

Ash is staying at our house...

I. Am. So. Fucked.

They talk for another minute, and then Sloan pockets his phone with an annoyed look on his face.

I clutch his shoulder, afraid to look him in the eye. “What’s going on?”

When it comes to Ash, I can’t think straight, never could. I still hate myself for sneaking around with Ash behind Sloan’s back. Even after five years apart, I still think about her. I still want her. I’m fucked-up, what can I say?

Sloan sighs. “Ash needs a place to stay for a while.”

I can’t sleep under the same roof as Ash, not after everything that went down five years ago. Not without Sloan discovering the truth.

Chapter Four

Dylan

My heart crashes into my chest when I pull into the driveway behind Ash’s beat-up Kia.

She’s here.

At my house.

Fuck. Me.

I stare at the license plate in front of me that reads NOT2DAY. Ash has an interesting sense of humor. She’s weird and quirky, and despite all of her flaws that drive me crazy, I still care about her. I still miss her.

Since our breakup, nothing has been easy for Ash. And a part of me will always feel responsible for her bad luck. That’s why I made sure she got the interview at Brenton-Lake. Even Sloan doesn’t know that I pulled a few strings to help Ash get the job. Don’t get me wrong, she deserved it, earned it. But I made sure Vinnie Sax hired her. I owed her that much after everything I put her through.

Bile rises from my stomach. I swallow hard and kill the engine of my Maserati. My dream car. With its perfect blue paint and cream interior. The one toy I wanted when I made my first million dollars.

“Please make Ash feel welcome,” Sloan says, looking at me with his hand on the door handle.

“Why wouldn’t I?”

He laughs. “Are you kidding me? You guys are always at each other’s throats.”

If you only knew…

“No, we’re not,” I challenge.

“Ash sounded upset on the phone. She’s homeless until she can save up enough money. Don’t be an asshole.”

“What are you talking about?”

He narrows his eyes at me. “You’re a control-freak. You clean up after me like you’re my mom. Don’t do that to Ash, okay? Let her do her thing.”

I’m a neat freak and a germaphobe, and when you combine the two, it’s not a pretty sight. I like a particular order in my life, where Sloan and Ash live on the wild side. They’re both slobs who drop their shit wherever it lands without care.

Act normal, Dylan.

It won’t kill you.

Ash living here is not the end of the world, even though my world feels like it’s crashing down on me. Because having Ash here, this close to me will fuck up everything I have built with Sloan. I made a mistake seven years ago. If I had a time machine, I would have stayed at the party with Sloan that night. I would have let my feelings for Ash fizzle out.

But I didn’t.

And there’s nothing I can do about it now.

When I slide out of the car, the salty air smacks me in the face. I drink it in, loving the scent of the ocean that floats through my windows every night. I never expected to become a multi-millionaire before I turned twenty-five. All of this wealth was part skill but mostly luck. I wrote the code because I liked it. We created Date Crashers because it sounded like fun.

Neither of us ever dreamed our college venture could turn into a multi-million-dollar company. We never thought we’d own a mansion on the beach or a fleet of exotic cars. Now, we have women dropping to their knees, thinking our cocks are a direct link to our hearts and bank accounts.

They’re not.

Unlike my best friend, I never got that kind of attention from women. Throughout high school and college, I was always Sloan’s ‘cute nerdy friend.’ He was the life of the party, and the one everyone wanted to hang out with. So, when he came up with the initial idea for Date Crashers, I thought Why not?

I stare up at the three-story home that boasts floor-to-ceiling windows, comprised mostly of glass and stucco. Until now, we never had much use for the guest house that has an incredible view of the ocean. The extra space should make my new living situation more bearable. At least with Ash on a different floor, I won’t have to see her… or get the urge to kiss her.

“Ash,” Sloan calls out. He cups his hands around his mouth as we walk into the house. “Where are you hiding, sis?”

My stomach tightens as I drag my feet across the smooth tiled floor, dreading seeing Ash on my couch. Or in my kitchen. With her feet propped up on a table. Every time she visits the house, I have to clean up after her. She’s more of a mess than Sloan.