Playing (Inked Hearts 2)

But it’s not worth risking our friendship. Sex will ruin things. It’s better to be around him, even if he’ll never be mine.

Drew is the most important person in my life.

I can't screw that up.

Chapter Four

I wake up to texts from Drew. The cross streets of a potential apartment and three low-resolution shots of it. He's so sure he'll get his way.

The place looks decent. I can see myself there. I can see us there, on a plush leather couch, watching one of Drew's favorite Batman movies. And I can feel the flutter building in my stomach as his hand skims my thigh. An accident. Means nothing. 'Cause we're only friends and we'll always be only friends.

I shove my phone into my backpack and promise myself I'll deal with this after class.

On my way out the door, I check the mailbox. No sign of my acceptance or rejection letter from the UCLA teaching program, but it's not due for another week.

My Finance 301 class is dull. My attention drifts to the browser open on my laptop. I can browse apartment listings and take notes at the same time.

That checks out.

There are about fifty rooms for rent in my neighborhood. Narrowing my price range knocks me down to a dozen options. Over half the available rooms come with a cat or dog. Those are out—I'm allergic to just about any animal with fur or feathers. Down to four. All of them use the words "open-minded roommate required" in the posting.

No way in hell that's happening.

Drew is my best option. Living with him is possible. So I'm attracted to him, so what? He's hotter than the molten center of the Earth. Of course my body reacts to his. And to his words and his voice and the way his cheeks crinkle when he smiles.

It's such a nice smile.

Okay. It’s more than a crush. I’m fucking crazy about him. But I can't let that get in the way of a perfectly good living arrangement. Not when it's my best option.

I give myself until eleven p.m. to come up with another idea, but there isn't one. I'm going to live with Drew and I'm going to survive it.

I take a deep breath as I tap my reply.

Kara: Okay. Let's do it. Let's pick out an apartment together.

One minute later, my phone rings. Drew.

I pick up. "Why can't you text like a normal person?"

"You can't gloat in a text." His voice is cocky. "I'm glad you saw the light."

"It's not too late to change my mind."

"You won't."

"Goodnight, Drew."

His voice softens. "Sweet dreams."

I turn off my phone. It's just a crush. It's not going to kill me.

In theory.

* * *

Tuesday night, I go straight from my internship to the first potential apartment. Drew is leaning against the wall, picture perfect effortless rock star. His short, black hair is messy. His t-shirt hangs off his shoulders just so. Once again, it's cut just low enough to show a hint of ink.

What would it feel like to trace the lines of that tattoo?