The Roommate Equation

“Let’s get this over with,” Dylan says, opening his car door. “We have a long night ahead of us. Dealing with this dickhead is the last thing I wanted to do before the big meeting.”

“You can stay in the car,” I point out. “No one’s forcing you to come inside.”

“Not a chance.” His eyes meet mine, and the intensity and fire in them send chills down my arms. “I’m not letting you out of my sight.”

Chapter Fifteen

Dylan

As I open the oven door to check on the chicken enchiladas, Ash enters the house. She slams the door behind her and drops something on the floor in the hallway, cursing under her breath.

“Dinner’s almost ready,” I call out from the kitchen. “Get your butt in here.”

No response.

“C’mon, Ash.”

Still no answer.

What is her problem now?

After our talk earlier, the tension between us softened, though we still have a lot more to discuss. I was honest with Ash and myself, for the first time in years, and finally admitted how I feel about her.

Nothing has changed for me.

She was my first and only love, and I screwed up. I put myself and the future of my company before Ash. I should have been more supportive when she told me she was pregnant. If I could take back that conversation, I would tell her I love her. And that I would be there for her and the baby. I would have told Sloan about us and promised to do everything in my power to make his sister happy. Before I could do that, she broke up with me, refusing to answer my calls until after she lost the baby.

And that was the end.

The final straw.

We didn’t speak again until after Ash had moved to Los Angeles to attend UCLA Film and Theater School. For a long time, it was a hello in passing, which later led to snide comments and snarky remarks. I tried to apologize, but Ash blows me off every time.

With a few minutes until dinner, I head toward Ash’s bedroom. Sloan is upstairs taking a shower. Ash said she would set the table, but she obviously forgot. Unlike me, Ash is irresponsible and flies by the seat of her pants.

She goes through the motions, taking one day at a time, where I plan, organize, and coordinate every aspect of my life. There were only a few times in my life when I didn’t plan, and Ash was part of those moments. She makes my head foggy when I’m around her.

Ash’s door is closed. I ball my hand into a fist and knock, and again, she ignores me.

Whatever.

This is my house.

I turn the knob and slowly open the door. “Ash, you in here?”

I fling the door open, now understanding the reason for her silence. Ash has earbuds shoved into her ears, the cords dipping between her cleavage. She’s hunched over on the bed, rocking back and forth. Ash clasps a pen in her hand, staring down at the notebook on the mattress. Her tits are practically falling out of the tight, red tank top, making me salivate.

Fuck dinner, I want to eat her.

Ash looks peaceful and happy, in the creative zone as she moves the pen across the page. She reminds me of myself when I’m coding. I get so easily lost in my head, envisioning the final product as I let the creative juices flow. In her spare time, Ash writes screenplays and has always loved to tell stories.

I approach the bed, and she continues to write with fury, her focus so intense it gives me a new appreciation of her. From the outside, it appears we have nothing in common.

The hot mess and the control-freak.

A free spirit and a planner.

But seeing her like this reminds me why I fell in love with her years ago. Why I still love her. Because despite our differences, we are alike in many ways.

I press my palm to the mattress and lean down until she stops writing and looks up at me. Her eyes are wide and bluer than the ocean. She looks so damn pretty I want to kiss her. I want to hold her in my arms and tell her that I need her. That I miss her so much, my chest feels like it will cave in if I’m not around her. That’s why I drop everything I’m doing when she calls to run those stupid fucking errands.

Ash removes one of the buds from her ear, pressing her glossed lips together. I can smell the cherries on her lips and have to stop myself from licking them.

“We’re eating dinner in five. You said you would set the table.”

With a groan, she drops her pen into the fold of her notebook and closes it.

“What were you working on?”

Ash sits up and rolls her shoulders. “Nothing important. A new screenplay.”