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Iturn the wateras hot as it will go, hoping the heat will soothe my nerves and quiet my thoughts. I have to admit, it’s kind of nice having a private bathroom, rather than a cloth curtain and the public stalls our entire floor at Hyde House share. There’s no need for shower shoes, and I can probably find a spot in the closet or under the sink to store my shower caddy, so I don’t have to lug it back and forth.
Apparently, college apartments are the way to go.
Still, I can’t believe I agreed to live with Jace. Even if it’s only temporary, the idea of the two of us sharing the same space in any capacity is a disaster waiting to happen.
He pisses me off on a good day. On a bad day, I’m two seconds away from wrapping my hands around his throat and squeezing until his eyes pop.
I thought the feeling was mutual.
Until this afternoon.
I don’t hate you, Cupcake.
His words echo in my head like the sound of a guitar string long after it’s been plucked.
Was he placating me?
He certainly seemed genuine.
I remember the feel of his fingers beneath my chin. How the heat of his touch seared into me as his gaze met mine. The soft rasp of his voice. Eyes as blue as the Caribbean.
I groan as I squirt a giant blob of conditioner into my hands and run it through my hair. I can’t help but feel like one of his groupies when I know damn well the reason he’s being so nice. The reason he’s done everything he has since we arrived at AU.
My brother.
Teagan and his stupid oath with Jace to watch over me. It’s ridiculous. I can take care of myself.
Then again, my options in this case are limited, and even though Jace can’t make me stay here, what’s the alternative? Going back to the dorms with Creepy Cate?
Jace was right when he said there’s more to consider than just the fact she clearly has it out for me. If she gets caught, I could go down with her. Not to mention the kind of people she’s bringing back to our room. I’ve already witnessed one or two unsavory characters coming and going. At best it’s an uncomfortable situation to be in. At worst, I could be in danger if I stay there.
I rinse the conditioner from my hair, then turn the water off. As much as I want my problems to wash down the drain, no amount of time spent under the hot spray is going to make everything right.
I yank open the shower curtain and grab my towel, quickly drying off before I secure it around me when I catch my reflection in the mirror above the sink. These first couple weeks have not gone how I thought they would. My roommate is a freak to the point of I’ve found myself displaced, and the first guy Ichose to try and pursue a relationship with turned out to be a total jerk.
My shoulders slump forward at the trajectory of my thoughts while my purplish-blue gaze stares back at me in defeat. With a long sigh, I open my cosmetic case, remove my toothbrush and toothpaste, then start to brush my teeth.
Jace was right about spending tons of time at my house in high school. But he’s wrong about this being no different. Teagan’s not here as a buffer. My family isn’t here, either. It’s just him and me. As far as I know, his roommate Chris hasn’t even come home yet, and I can’t help but feel this awkward tension at the fact I’ll be falling asleep and waking up under the same roof as him. There’s something innately intimate about seeing someone first thing in the morning, before they’ve had time to change out of their pajamas or have their first cup of coffee. And I’m not sure it’s something I’m prepared to share with him.
Once I’m finished, I zip my bag back up and take it with me. I’m already an inconvenience, so the last thing I want to do is leave my stuff lying around. The less evidence there is that I’m here, the better.
I pad my way out of the bathroom and into the living room, grateful when I see it empty. As selfish as it is, I’d rather face Chris tomorrow, once I have a fresh head and I’m feeling a little less like an inconvenience.
I pause by the sofa where I left my suitcases to see they’re gone.
With a frown, I cross the living room toward the bedroom Jace said belonged to him during my five-second tour, and peek my head inside to find him at his closet, tearing everything out of it and cramming it into his dresser drawers.
“Uh, what are you doing? Did you move my things?”
His gaze darts up to me, shifting from my damp hair and bare face, down to my baggy T-shirt and little cotton shorts. Histhroat bobs before he turns away again and grabs the last of his things. “I figured you could have the closet,” he mumbles.
“Wait. What? No.” I wave a hand and step further inside. “You don’t have to do that. This is just temporary. My suitcases will be fine.”
He turns and eyes me with a raised brow. “Assuming housing doesn’t perform a miracle, I’m not going to let you live out of suitcases for six weeks. You can have the closet.”
I open my mouth to argue, but then think better of it, remembering my mom’s favorite phase: Pick your battles. Maybe that’s all I need to do with Jace—pick my battles. It certainly can’t hurt, and it might make our situation easier.
So instead of arguing, I tell him, “Thanks,” and he nods in reply. “Well, if it’s okay with you, I think I’m just going to go to bed now,” I say, feeling the weight of everything that’s happened in the last few days heavy in my chest.
