Bad Girl (Alphahole Roommates 3)

“And…you said stuff upstairs that nobody should’ve been privy to. Part of our bet was based on confidentiality.”

He shakes his head.

“No. I didn’t say your real name up there, baby, and that’s all we agreed to – me not telling them that you’ve been lying about your identity. I also said that if I thought you were up to something I might have to out you and it’s clear to me that you’ve been up to something, though I don’t know yet what that is, so how about you tell me?”

“You’re a dick.”

“Yeah, so you’ve said. And you’re the one that declared what our bet was up there, not me. So… you gonna talk to me or are we fucking now?”

“You said you were making me dinner,” I retort with a pout. “I was about to chow down on a steak and a double-baked loaded potato, and you tore me away from that so at least make me food before we continue.”

“Yeah, well you fucked that up tonight by taking off on me. Twice. You want a sandwich, I’ll do that. You want a nice meal, we’ll have that tomorrow with my family.”

I glare at him.

“I’m hungry too, so I’ll make us a sandwich. Come sit at the counter while I do that.”

“Why?”

“So you’re within reaching distance if I think you’re about to bolt again.”

He grabs my hand and pulls me to the counter before lifting me by the hips and setting me on a barstool.

My heart is racing.

Why do I like when he does stuff like this? Like lift me up like I’m small and precious. Like carry me back from a date with another man with fire in his eyes but a gentle touch?

He’s making me food, too.

God, this sucks.

This sucks because I could get used to it.

I’m a wishy-washy stupid girl. But I can’t seem to help how my heart feels about all the things he’s doing. Maybe because I have to feel this while I can, since it’s all temporary.

Carly’s words about telling him everything ring in my ear.

If I do that, how am I going to feel when he gets hurt? I can’t be selfish and lay my burdens on him. I need to just go to Japan or somewhere else far away, because if I make the wrong call and people I love get hurt, I won’t survive it. I’ve already lost one of the most important people in the world to me when Dad got killed and it’s had a longstanding effect on me.

He slices from the widest point of the big, round Baka Kokotovic loaf. He butters the four thick slices and then piles deli honey baked ham and Havarti cheese from the fridge onto two of them.

“Mustard, mayo?” he asks.

“Yeah,” I whisper. “Lots of both.”

He gives me side-eye as he does that.

“Cucumber and tomato?” I ask. “And salt and pepper.”

A bottle of uncorked wine sits there beside a glass, so I pour myself one. He twists the cap off the beer bottle that sits beside it and takes a big gulp, giving me a dark look before he rinses a cucumber under running water.

I go to the cupboard and pull down a bag of salted potato chips and open them, setting them in front of me, then stuffing my mouth.

I examine my nails, while crunching, to avoid looking at his face.

A minute later, still focused on my fingers and more chewing, I hear the plates slide toward me.

“Thanks,” I whisper.

He rounds the bar and sits on the stool beside me. We eat in silence for a minute or two but then a little questioning “Meow?” breaks the silence.

I look down and little Georgia looks so small on the floor between us.

She meows again, or I think she means to, but it’s just her little mouth moving with no sound coming out, so I get down, squat, lift her, and put her in my lap. She purrs and headbutts my chest.

“What’s the story with her?” Jude asks, facing forward instead of looking at me.

“She and her brother are staying with me for a couple weeks. They came from a farm that had just too many kittens. He’s getting his surgery tonight; he’s probably done now, thanks in part to your generosity and then he’ll need a couple weeks to recover so I’ll be fostering them and then they’ll go up for adoption.”

“Why don’t you adopt them?”

I shrug. “It wouldn’t be fair.”

“Ah, since you’re waiting to see if you need to leave town?”

I say nothing. Instead, I bite my sandwich. Georgie-girl jumps from my lap to the countertop and wanders over to Jude’s plate. He pinches a piece of ham off his sandwich and gives it to her.

“She can’t have that. She’s a kitten. And besides, you don’t feed cats on the counter, or you’ll never get them off.” I scoop her up and put her on the floor. She’s got the piece of ham in her mouth.