The Roommate Equation

“No. I’ve had a long week. And this surprise is a bit unexpected. I hate change.”

“I’m well aware,” I spit back. “You made that crystal clear a long time ago.”

He moves closer, and the heat from his body makes me crave more of his closeness. I’m all too aware of how my body responds to him.

“Sorry doesn’t mean much without action.”

“You’re right. Sorry means nothing. You fucked me over when I came to you for help. You put school and your selfishness before my safety. I needed you, Dylan, and you turned your back on me.”

“I’m sorry,” he groans. “I still think about what I did, what I said, how I treated you. I was under a lot of pressure with school and Date Crashers.”

“It doesn’t matter,” I shoot back. “The problem managed to go away on its own. You lucked out.”

He laughs, but it’s not a happy laugh. “I lost you, Ash. That wasn’t luck. It was fucking painful.”

“It’s not like this would have worked out between us, anyway. You never had the balls to tell my brother about us.”

“I almost told him once,” he confesses, laying back in the sand to look up at the stars. “I was drunk. You left campus in tears, and I felt like the biggest piece of shit on earth.”

“Sounds about right.”

He snickers. “I’m not a bad guy. I made the wrong decision. It happens. You’re not perfect. You do a lot of stupid shit that pisses your brother off.”

“I wouldn’t have shut you out. I would have supported your decision.”

“Does it matter now?” Dylan taps his fingers on my arm. “Nothing can change the past.”

“I hate you.”

He shakes his head. “No, you don’t. You wouldn’t still be here if you did.”

A long silence passes between us.

“I want to know something,” Dylan says, his lips inches from mine, his breath warming my skin.

“What?”

“If you still taste like cherries.”

I stare at him, unblinking. “I don’t know what you’re talking about. When did I ever taste like cherries?”

Dylan nestles his face against my neck, his lips grazing my skin. His kisses send chills down my spine.

He’s too drunk to realize he’s kissing me.

“You used to wear this lip gloss that tasted like cherries. Fuck, I loved that smell. The way it tasted. On your lips.”

Why is he saying this? Tomorrow, he will wake up and forget everything he said. And if he does remember by some miracle, he will regret every word.

“I wore it earlier. It’s called Cherry Blossom.”

Dylan runs his fingers down my forearm, causing the tiny hairs to stand at attention. Everywhere our skin meets leaves a trail of fire in its wake. Even in his drunken state, he must know what he’s doing. Right? Dylan has to be somewhat conscious of this simple gesture.

“I want to taste you.”

“You’re drunk.”

He sighs and leans back on his elbow, still rubbing his fingers along my skin. Dylan clutches my waist and pulls me to his chest. I attempt to break free from his grasp, but my desire to fight him only causes him to tug harder at my tank top. He shifts his weight so that half of my body is now on top of his.

“What are you doing, Dylan?”

With my head next to his, our mouths only inches apart, his glassy blue eyes meet mine. I wish I could find the courage to pull away from him. He makes me weak. He makes me want to do stupid things. Being this close, I want to kiss Dylan and find comfort in him even if it’s only for one kiss. His kisses meant everything once upon a time.

He meant everything to me.

Dylan raises his hand to my cheek. “You’re beautiful, Ash.”

I don’t respond to his compliment.

He hooks his arm around me and lowers my head to his muscular chest. I listen to his heart pounding, each beat timed in harmony with mine.

My eyelids flutter. I press my palm to Dylan’s chest, and he cocoons me in his warmth. The stress of my new living situation, combined with the fact it’s now the middle of the night, coaxes my eyes shut. We’re both too tired and intoxicated to make clear decisions.

I need to move.

Get away from Dylan.

Sleep in my new bed.

But I don’t.

Chapter Seven

Dylan

The sun warms my cheek as waves break in the distance. Ash buries her face in my shirt, curled up next to me on the sand.

This is a nice dream…

I slide my hand up her stomach, dipping beneath her tank top to cup her breast. Gathering her hair in my hands, I leave a trail of kisses from her neck to her shoulder. She backs her ass into my groin, a soft purr escaping her lips, and I groan in response.

“Dylan,” Ash mutters under her breath.

Her voice snaps me out of my dream, and when my eyes open, I have to blink a few times to adjust to the sun in my face.