Total pages in book: 102
Estimated words: 100275 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 501(@200wpm)___ 401(@250wpm)___ 334(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 100275 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 501(@200wpm)___ 401(@250wpm)___ 334(@300wpm)
“But you think he’s hot.”
“I think this conversation has gone off the rails.”
“You’re saying he’s not sexy?”
“You’re not listening to me.”
“I am. But you’re not making sense. Just answer the question.”
“I’m not answering the question.” I fill a bag with trail mix.
“Why?”
“Because it’s irrelevant. We’re roommates. It’s a hard rule—no sleeping with your roommate. We’d get booted out. And I like my setup. I’d rather not have to leave before I move on to my next job.”
“Yada yada. Is he hot?”
“Stop.” I set the bag in my basket.
“Have you had a sex dream about Calvin Fitzgerald?”
I giggle. This is absurd. I shouldn’t have told her about the kiss.
“It’s okay if you have. That makes you normal. Who am I going to tell?”
“I have to go.”
“No. You’re not ending this call until you just tell me. Have you had a sex dream about Calvin Fitzgerald? Huh? Huh? Huh—”
“Yes. I’ve had a sex dream about Calvin Fitzgerald. Are you happy now?” I huff and turn the corner. “Oof!” And I run right into Calvin Fitzgerald. “Shit. Sorry. I . . . I have to go.” I pluck out my earbuds and toss them in my bag.
He didn’t hear me. Please, God, say he didn’t hear me.
“Watch where you’re going,” he warns with a taut voice, a jar of mustard in one hand and something wrapped in butcher paper in the other.
It’s the most we’ve said to each other since the kiss. I can’t think of Fitz or look at him without thinking about the kiss. Who am I kidding? I can’t do anything without thinking about the stupid kiss.
“Hey. How was your day?” I ask in singsong, clinging to small talk like Rose clung to the door after the Titanic sank.
He doesn’t speak. And I can’t decipher his expression. This sucks. Did he hear me?
Fitz’s gaze makes its usual inspection of me. Nothing to see. I’m in my not-so-sexy purple scrubs, and I’m already flushed. Why must he toy with me?
I clear my throat to get his attention. “Will’s been talking about either re-siding the house or a kitchen remodel. I think I will get an electric kettle for my room and eat ramen or order takeout. How about you?” I hold my breath and offer a constipated smile.
“SPAM.”
What?
One word? I’m freaking the hell out as to whether or not he heard me, and all I get is SPAM?
“You eat SPAM?”
“I do,” he says with a confident smile—too confident.
“Yum.” I roll my lips between my teeth. “Well, uh . . . I’ll let you finish your shopping. See you at home.”
“I have another stop to make, so if you’re nestled in your shed by the time I get home, have sweet dreams.”
I freeze—as in, I stop breathing. My lungs stop oxygenating my blood—death by embarrassment.
My brain scrambles, body sweats. The sooner I can come up with an explanation that’s not the obvious one, the sooner I can breathe again. “Don’t look so smug. You heard one side of the conversation and took it out of context.”
His mouth purses into duck lips while his eyes narrow. “Can a sex dream be taken out of context?”
I survey our surroundings, replying in a hushed voice, “I’m on the verge of saying whatever it takes to shut you up, the way I was willing to say anything to shut up Melissa. So what’s it going to be, Fitz? How many times do I need to lick your ego before you let this go?”
His eyebrows make a slow ascent up his forehead. “I wouldn’t have taken you for a licker.”
“I’m not a licker.”
“No?” He cocks his head.
I groan. Not moan. Groan. “If you let this go and promise never to say another word about it, then we can be even.”
“Even?”
“Yes. Even. I still owe you for the bullshit about the thirty-day trial in the rental contract and your assery about Betty.”
“Assery? Is that a word? Is it like cantankerous?”
My eyes narrow. “Take it or leave it.”
He beams victoriously. “We’re even.”
He’s good. I’ll give him that. After a long day, I’m tired and not feeling up to the challenge. Nevertheless, there’s no way I’m rolling over on this and admitting defeat by letting him manipulate the conversation.
I can tell from the gleam in his eyes and his puffed-out chest that I will never live this down. Melissa is on my shit list, right next to Fitz. For that matter, I’m upset with Will and Maren, too, for thinking something’s going on when it’s not. If everyone stopped pestering me about Calvin Fitzgerald, maybe my brain would find more appropriate dreams.
Chapter Eleven
My mom used to say that humans are good. Our natural inclination is to do the right thing. Show kindness. Express love. Be pure in thought.
Pure in thought . . .
I’m struggling with that one.
Sipping hot chocolate on the sofa in my loose-fitting jeans and pink hoodie, I set up my profile on a dating app. I need a distraction from a certain someone. As soon as that thought enters my mind, that certain someone opens the door. It’s been over a week since the grocery store incident.