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CHAPTERONE
“Wake up, sleepyhead.”
Something brushes over my cheek and then across my forehead, and my eyes flutter open to find my housemate Xander leaning over me. Not yet noticing that I heard him, he cups my shoulder and gives me a gentle shake. “Sabrina, you’re going to be late.”
“What time is it?” I mumble.
“Quarter after seven.”
“Oh, shit!” I’m suddenly wide awake, and sit bolt upright in bed before remembering that I’m wearing a thin tank top that doesn’t leave much to the imagination. Not that Xander would care.
“You can make it,” he says, already backing away toward the door. “The upstairs bathroom is free. We’ll have coffee ready for you.”
Luckily, I set my clothes out the night before, and as for my hair, a quick slicked-back low ponytail should still look professional. It’s only my second week at my new job; arriving late is not an option.
I know it’s my own fault for staying up too late last night, but as I rush to scrub my body under the spray of the shower, I place some of the blame on my housemates. If they’d come home at a decent hour, I wouldn’t have lain awake wondering where they were, imagining the gorgeous women they must be dating, and wondering why I’m not good enough for them.
Scratch that thought. I know my worth, and I know I’m good enough for them. Even though they’re terrific men, it’s their fault for not seeing what they have right in front of them. God knows I get an eyeful of them every day, even though I try not to look.
Trouble is, it’s not just Xander. I have four housemates, each of them as appealing as the next. It’s often hard to find a place to rest my eyes that doesn’t give me a great view of their hard pecs, or their solid thighs, or their smiling eyes.
If I wasn’t in such a hurry right now, these thoughts could lead me into a nice little self-love session, but I’ll have to postpone it. Instead, I turn the knob to cold, and spare a shocking couple of seconds to raise goosebumps on my skin and cool my libido. Then I towel off, dress in a rush, almost putting my blouse on backwards, and pull my hair into a clip.
As promised, Xander is waiting in the kitchen with a travel mug of coffee. “Cream and plenty of sugar, just the way you like it,” he says as he hands it to me. His dark hair flops over one of his thick eyebrows, and I try not to notice how attractive he is, even this early in the morning.
“Thank you. There’s a vending machine in the break room. I’ll grab breakfast there.”
Jack, who’d been standing at the counter, turns toward me, holding out a silver foil-wrapped cylinder. “We’ve got you covered there, too. Breakfast burrito. You can eat in the car.”
I mumble more thanks, full of so many conflicted feelings at the kindness of these men. Either of them would make such a great boyfriend, and they will, but unfortunately not for me.
I’m headed for my shoes when my other two housemates appear. Victor looks fresh from the shower of our second bathroom, damp ends of his black hair sticking out in every direction as if he just ran a towel through it. His skin looks dewy fresh, and I try not inhale the crisp scent of it as he blocks my path.
Damien, meanwhile, must have just rolled out of bed. His eyelids are heavy, his hair is tangled, and I can feel the warmth of him even before he pulls me into a brotherly hug. “Have a good day, Sabby.”
I try to minimize physical contact with these men, because even though I love it, it’s also absolute torture. But Damien is the affectionate type, and I usually find myself nestled against his hard chest at least once a day. Or rather, I used to. Lately, I don’t see very much of any of them. I take a deep breath, wishing I could stay in Damien’s arms all day, and then I pull away.
“I’m running late,” I explain, with a quick nod at both men, and also at Jack and Xander, who have gathered behind me in the kitchen doorway.
“We’ll see you later.” Victor’s playful eyes are full of energy. He and Jack usually go for runs at the crack of dawn, and Victor looks like he’s still brimming with endorphins.
I screech to a halt before reaching the door. “Oh, that’s right. It’s my turn to cook dinner, isn’t it?”
“We won’t be around for dinner tonight,” Xander says.
“Yeah, don’t worry about it,” Victor adds. “We’ll just be stopping by here after work, and then we’re going out again.”
“Oh, okay.” I notice my shoulders start to sag, so I very purposely straighten my spine and keep my head high. “Guess I’ll see you when I see you, then.” I give them a wave over my shoulder and take quick steps out to my car, where I can brood in private.
CHAPTERTWO
It was so unexpected, ending up with four men as my roommates when I started college five years ago.
I got a late start looking for housing—procrastinating is kind of a bad habit of mine, if I’m being honest—and while I had visions of getting a new best friend as my roommate, I ended up having to take a room in a house with four gorgeous dudes.
I was intimidated by their good looks at first, and also expecting them to be messy and gross and display all of the bad living habits stereotypically attributed to men, but Xander and Victor are actually far neater than I am, and none of them have ever made me feel uncomfortable.
Once I settled in, I developed massive crushes on all of them, which has been inconvenient, to say the least. If I’d only been interested in one of them, I might have made a move, but crushing on all four of them is impractical, and deciding on one of them is impossible.
