The Junior (College Years 3)

I glare at him, realizing he’s probably been talking to me for a while, but I was too lost in thought. I send Gracie a look as she crosses her arms, her expression hard to read.

Exhaling roughly, I exit her bedroom, following Eli out of the apartment and into the parking lot.

“Are you two going to be able to get along? Because this is going to be a really shitty year for me, living with you two fighting all the time,” Eli says the moment we stop by Gracie’s car.

“She always starts it,” I immediately say, but Eli shakes his head, cutting me off with a firm look.

“You say shit too. And sometimes all you have to do is look at her and she’s pissed,” Eli says as he runs his hand along his jaw, his gaze narrowing as he contemplates me. “This was probably a bad idea on my part. You’re both pretty awful. But only together. Get one of you alone without the other one around? You’re fine.”

“And we’re living together. How the hell is this going to work?” Frustration ripples through me and I tell myself to calm down. We can totally make this work. And we need the other roomie.

Well, Eli doesn’t. He can afford whatever, because that mofo is rich. His dad the video game designer bleeds money. Me? I’m from a nice, middle-class family who makes just enough to take a couple of vacations to the central coast every year in their old travel trailer, and Dad buys T-bone steaks to barbecue a couple of times over the summer. To him, that’s extravagant living.

I want more than that. But how? I was recently forced to declare a major and I chose business, like my friend Tony. That guy is smart as shit. Plus, his dad bleeds even more money than Eli’s, and Tony is probably going to take over the family business one day. Why wouldn’t I follow in Tony’s footsteps?

Though I have no business to take over. No family fortune to inherit. I am on my own and I know it. This is why I work at Mitchell’s Landing every summer, and I have them schedule me for as many hours as possible. If the tourists don’t tip me in beer—true story—they tip me in cash. And sometimes, if they’re hot and female, they tip me with a blow job.

Again, true story.

“You have to make it work,” Eli says, reaching out and clapping me on the shoulder in an extra brotherly way. His gaze is intense as it locks on mine. “Just…try to get along with her. Stop always saying things that piss her off.”

I send him an incredulous look. “Eli. My friend. Everything I say pisses her off. You know this.”

Eli laughs. “Can you believe you just called me your friend? We used to hate each other. I still remember that night I caught you flirting with Ava in the parking lot after a game.”

“You were on our turf,” I defend, remembering that night too, when Eli and the rest of his football team—they were our biggest rivals in high school—came to watch us play on their bye week. My flirting with Ava at that time was completely harmless. I knew I could never get with her, no matter how hot she was. Her brother is one of my closest friends.

Besides, Jake Callahan would kick my ass if I even so much as touched his baby sister. She’s been off-limits since day one.

“Didn’t mean to change the subject.” He gives me another shake before releasing my shoulder. “But yeah. Keep the peace with Gracie. If everything you say to her makes her angry, then maybe you shouldn’t talk to her at all.”

Right. Like that’s going to happen. Most of the time, it’s like I can’t resist her—and she can’t resist me. Yes, we piss each other off, and we argue all the time, but the arguing feels more like foreplay. Deep down, I think she likes it.

Deep down, I know I like it. I enjoy getting a rise out of Gracie. Have I mentioned how beautiful she is? She’s fucking gorgeous. Tall and slender with long, long legs. Not much in the tits department, but that’s okay. I can work with what she’s got. Cute little ass. Slim waist. And then there’s her face…

Eyes I can’t figure out what color they are because they always feel like they’re changing. Light brown. Bright gold. Greenish gold. Flat out green. Long, brown hair she recently highlighted. I know this because she shared photos on her IG story at the salon while getting her hair done. A mirror selfie of her sitting in a chair with her hair wrapped in foil. Somehow, she still looked good.

Truth? I’m dying to bang her. I would bang the shit out of her if given the chance, no hesitation. And it would be good between us. I know this. Every time we accidentally—or not so accidentally—touch, sparks fly. I’m surprised we don’t light shit on fire.

But it would end badly. I wouldn’t be able to commit. Neither would she. We’d get mad at each other. Or more like, she’d get mad at me, I’d blow her off. And boom.

Friendship—whatever little friendship we might actually have—over.

“I won’t be around much this summer anyway,” I say. “I’ll be working all the time. And then practice will start. Then school. I’ll never be home. And isn’t she student teaching? She won’t even be on campus when school starts back up.”

“Right. Exactly. Perfect,” Eli says with a nod, though his expression is uneasy. I almost feel sorry for the guy, but he’s the one who asked Gracie to move in with us in the first place, so he literally asked for this.

Gracie chooses that moment to appear and I turn away from her, initiating my, “Let’s ignore Gracie” plan at this exact minute.

“I only have a few things left,” she says as she heads straight for the trunk of her car, her arm grazing mine as she walks past.

My skin ignites. Just from that simple brush past me. Girl did it on purpose too.

Who’s antagonizing who now?

“We’ll get everything else,” Eli says, rushing toward her. More like kissing her ass. “Grab whatever?

??s lightest and we’ll take the rest.”