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So, I’m the asshole here.
It’s been hard not to assume the worst lately.
Someone clears their throat, and I snap out of my staring contest with Zeke.
Pris stands, grabbing her mug. “We should go. I’m sure you two have a lot to work out.”
She glares at her sisters, who follow her lead. As they pass, Pris nods at Zeke, Del smacks him on the chest with a laugh and a disbelieving head shake, and Tabby throws her arms around his shoulders.
“You big, stupid idiot,” she mumbles into his sweater with a laugh.
He gives her a short chuckle and a rigid, one-arm hug, but I can sense their bond from here. It’s similar to the one my sister and brother have. While I’m nine years younger than my sister, Dru and Case are only eighteen months apart.
I touch my stomach, forcing out the waves of emotion I can’t handle right now.
Tabby playfully slaps Zeke in the face. “Take care of her,” she says, and Zeke looks to me in a way I don’t like. It’s the look my family has been giving me for years, like I’m fragile.
My whole body blooms with heat, partially embarrassed, partially pissed. I don’t need to be taken care of. I don’t want to be taken care of. I cast my gaze to my lap, where Figgy’s still curled up. The hiccup in my chest fights its way out, and I struggle to keep the fear down.
When it’s just Zeke and I, he drops his duffel on the ground with a thud that makes Figgy jump.
“Something wrong?” he asks, and I realize I’m glaring into my tea.
“I don’t need to be taken care of,” I huff, clenching my jaw. He chuckles and holds a finger up for me to wait. He disappears into the bathroom for a moment, then comes out toothbrush-less.
Zeke sits down across from me and leans forward, resting his forearms on his knees. Figgy lets out a low growl, his ears tucking back.
“Oh, hush,” I say, booping Figgy’s nose and smiling at the pure murder in his eyes at Zeke’s proximity.
I, on the other hand, respond very differently. I’m enraptured by his closeness, scanning him like a barcode. His shoulders are broad and sexy. His thick lips draw into that same panty-melting smile from earlier. His hair sticks out under his hood, falling over his forehead, and I take in every angle of his face while trying not to squirm in my seat.
Goddamn, I am wholly attracted to this guy in a way I’m not sure I should be. Even my full-body, devoted teenage lust for Harry Styles has nothing on this baby-hormone-induced need for Zeke.
I want those arms around me, those hands on my skin, that mouth on mine. I’m determined not to need him, but fucking hell, do I want him.
“I have every confidence that you are capable of taking care of yourself.” Zeke threads his fingers and taps the pads of his thumbs together.
As the attraction wanes, his smirk and posture feel more patronizing than sexy. Like he doesn’t believe me that I don’t need him.
I swallow the reasons I do need him. Primarily to keep me hidden from the public eye so my blackmailer doesn’t hurt my family again. Or come after me.
“Then you don’t have to stay here. I’ll be fine alone; I’ve been alone most of my life.” I bite my lip because I did not mean for that to come out.
Zeke doesn’t miss it either. The rise of his eyebrow is the only hint of his shock.
“Oh, you’re totally missing the point here, though, Nova.” He taps his thumbs again, and anger surges through me at his dismissive tone.
“And what’s the point?” My shoulders squeeze up to my ears on their own as I coil up with tension. Figgy lifts his head like my irritation is inconveniencing his nap.
Zeke flops into the cushions with an incredulous frown on his face.
“Um, you met my sisters, didn’t you?” He gestures to the door. “Those three crazy bitches who I both love and fear to the depths of my soul.”
The anger breaks, and I unravel. My shoulders loosen, and my fingers relax from the fists I’d clenched them into. An uncomfortable giggle overtakes a flash of guilt at my immediate need to question him. “I did.”
“So, I feel like it should be pretty obvious why I packed up my shit and became your roommate.I’mthe one who needs protection here.” He crosses his arms and sinks deeper into the chair, his knees apart and his chest expanding in his amusement.
The urge to crawl into his lap rushes through me, but I stamp it out. A hookup is what started this mess. I don’t need to make it worse.
