The Temporary Roomie (It Happened in Nashville 2)

“Uh—sure. Yeah. Let me just grab a shower real quick. You go ahead and turn something on.”

“Okay. Is there anything in particular you want to watch?”

“Whatever you want is good.”

“Okay.” She gives me a soft, uncertain smile, and GEEZ SHE’S RIGHT THIS IS SO WEIRD.

What are we doing right now? How am I supposed to feel about a roommate who hates me, and annoys me, and is pregnant with some other dude’s baby, and is living under my roof in exchange for acting like my fake girlfriend, and whose expression when she smiles, I sort of love?! It’s too messy, and I don’t like messy. I like nice clean squares, neatly stacked in a row and color-coordinated. It’s why I couldn’t handle it when Cooper started dating Lucy. Suddenly he jumped into her square and it messed everything up. It takes some time for me to get used to a new organizational system.

I text Cooper because I’m a masochist who loves pain and suffering.

Me: Jessie and I are going to watch TV together…

Cooper: Naked?

Me: What? No. Why would you ask that?

Cooper: Just trying to figure out why you’d text me you’re watching TV together if it’s not because you’re naked.

Me: Because we’re going to WATCH TV TOGETHER.

Cooper: I don’t get it.

I should have texted Lucy. She’ll understand right away. In fact, my point is proven when another text immediately comes through.

Lucy: OMG!! Cooper just told me you’re going to watch TV with Jessie!!!!! This is BIG! What does it mean?! Are you friends now?? More than friends? Do you love her? She’s so amazing; please love her!

Okay, so maybe a text from Lucy wasn’t any better. Now I’m overthinking watching TV, wondering if maybe I should bail and just go to bed. Have I ever just watched a show with a woman before? It feels intimate for some reason. I give myself a mental shake. I’m being ridiculous.

While I’m in the shower, I think of my relationship with Jessie so far and try to give it a place in my mind. It’s been clear cut up until this point. She’s rude to me, I’m rude to her in return. She hates me, I hate her back. She pranks me, I retaliate. She gives me the cold shoulder, fine, I couldn’t care less. Those boxes all stack neatly—nice and tidy. But then, a new round shape enters the mix, and it looks like Jessie smiling at me. It looks like me rushing home to check on her health. It looks like watching TV together on a weeknight.

Those shapes don’t stack up, so I don’t know what to do with them.

As much as I despise it, it looks like my only option is to see what happens. Going with the flow has never been my specialty, but I think where Jessie is concerned, I have no choice.

Drew comes back into the living room, and I try (I really do) not to notice how good his hair looks damp. The swirl of masculine scents wrapping around him. How cute and down to earth he looks in a hoodie and sweatpants. And his feet are bare. What am I supposed to do with that? Now that I’ve noticed, I feel like he might as well be naked.

Geez, Drew. Must you be so scandalous while we watch TV with your oh-so-naked feet?

Oh goodness, those feet get propped up on the coffee table. Am I supposed to be attracted to the sight of bare feet? No. Absolutely not. This pregnancy and all these hormones raging through my body have turned me into an insane foot fetish person. I need to get in with a thera

pist ASAP because the sight of Drew’s feet is making my heart pump like a racehorse at the Kentucky Derby.

“What are we—”

“NOTHING!” I blurt quickly, nearly throwing my freshly popped bowl of popcorn across the room.

Drew blinks at me, uncertain what to do with that sudden outburst. “You okay over there?”

“Who me? Definitely. I was just afraid you caught me drooling over Zac Efron, that’s all.” Yeah, that’s good, Jessie. Put him off your scent. “Yeah, his bare abs were on just a minute ago and I couldn’t take my eyes off them. WHEW. I mean, talk about one hot male specimen. Delicious.” Delicious?

His head cocks to the side a little, and he takes in a tentative breath like he’s going to say something but changes his mind. Instead, he grins slightly and turns his eyes to the TV…the TV that’s not even on, because I was in the kitchen popping popcorn while he was in the shower. So, instead of pointing out the obvious—that I’m lying through my teeth—he just stares with a quizzical smile at the blank screen and then turns back to me.

I blink at him, daring him to call my bluff and make me admit I’m flustered because of him. I don’t think either of us want to go there, so he just chuckles and reaches for the remote.

“Got it. Zac Efron gets your engine going.”

I make a gagging face. “Never mention my engine again.”