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Dereck
Idon’t know what it was, exactly, that compelled me to pick up the phone and text Rowan’s roommate, Carly.
Actually, that’s a lie. I know exactly what it was. It was a nice ass and stunning ruby hair, that’s what.
“Where are you going?” Bryce had called earlier that night. He was studying in the living-room, long neck craned so he could glare suspiciously at me from his place on the couch.
“I’m going to see Carly,” I’d told him, running a hand through my hair. Matt had come out of the kitchen at that exact moment, flicking water off his hands from the sink.
“So, what you really mean is, you’re going to try and hit it off with Rowan Bates.”
“What makes you think that, Big Man?” I’d winked and offered a fist to Matt, who didn’t return the bump. On the couch, Bryce was frowning. For such a self-proclaimed genius, he certainly had a difficult time putting two and two together.
“You might as well film what happens,” Matt had said, folding his arms to lean up against the doorway. “I’ll need something funny to watch later on.”
“Fuck you, man.”
“Hard pass,” Bryce yelled from the living-room. “And besides, Matt, we don’t need video proof. We already know how tonight will go. Rowan Bates wants nothing whatsoever to do with him. She’s made that plenty clear.”
I had bitten back a petty retort and kicked Bryce’s shoes out of my path, wanting to punch a wall instead, or maybe my friend’s pretty face.
“Bet on me and lose, fuckers,” I’d said, opening the front door. “I’m gonna get some tonight.”
“Of course you will,” Matt said as I’d slowly retreated. “Just not with Rowan.”
And now, here I was, standing on Rowan Bate’s front porch steps, breathless at the mere sight of this woman in front of me, a fucking rose-haired goddess. Her emerald eyes lock with mine. The mouth that had seconds ago been smiling, carefree and excited, drops, melting into a scowl, and I watch as the muscles in her jaw twitch with distaste.
“Hey again,” I say, giving her my best chin nod. Just seeing this woman in front of me starts to make me hard, so I make a feeble attempt to focus on anything besides Rowan’s soft, plump lips curling in disgust.
“It’s for you,” she calls to Carly, stepping aside just enough to let me through. As I step forward to come through the open door, a car behind me pulls into the driveway. I glance back, hardly curious, but when a man steps out of the car and walks up to the door, smiling like a dumbass, I’m on edge suddenly.
Wary. Jealous.
The guy smiles at me like some preppy douchebag and shoves his glasses up onto his nose to keep them from falling off. I’m not even over the threshold yet as he holds out his hand for me to shake. I recognize him, the guy who stole Rowan away from Bryce earlier.
“You must be Carly’s friend,” he says. For a split second I consider ignoring the hand and punching him in the face instead, but a last-minute thought tells me that that won’t exactly earn me points. Instead, I plaster my best, fake smile on and shake the guy’s hand, hoping that if I apply enough pressure, bones will break. I’m mildly disappointed when he takes his hand back with a pained look but no cracked bones.
“Um, come on in, both of you,” Rowan says, finally finding her voice, and she steps aside so we can slip in.
“I’m Jason,” the dude says to me, but his eyes are on Rowan, scanning her outfit from head to toe, and a jealous rage rises in the pit of my stomach like bile. I want to gouge his eyes out. “I’m Rowan’s, um—”
“Friend,” Rowan says quickly, but it’s a second too late as Jason says, “Date.”
Rowan’s face goes red, cheeks tinted with color, and I have to look away from her to keep from busting through the front of my pants.
“What’s up, Rowan’s Friend?” I say, relishing in the storm cloud that passes over his face. “I’m here for Carly.”
“Yes,” Rowan says, taking a breath. “You are here for Carly.” The way she says it is funny, as though she’s trying to convince herself that it’s really true. As I follow Rowan and Doucheboy into the kitchen, I notice with a hint of glee as Rowan subtly brushes Jason off as he tries to take her hand.
I fucking love it.
“Baby!” Carly shouts as I step into the kitchen. She’s sloshed, which is exactly how she was the last time I saw her. I couldn’t even begin to tell you what this girl is like sober, because I haven’t seen it.
“Hey.” I resist the urge to push her away as Carly throws her arms around me, forcing my chin down so she can kiss me on the lips. She tastes like wine and bubblegum lip-gloss, and I’m already getting hard, but it’s certainly not because of her. As Carly showers kisses all over my face, my eyes look over her shoulder, pinned on Rowan. She is now leaning up against the kitchen counter next to Jamie, who doesn’t seem to care one way or the other who is in the house, as long as she doesn’t have to deal with them, I guess.
What surprises me most, as Carly kisses me, is that Rowan is already looking at me by the time I focus my gaze on hers, and it’s a full ten seconds or so before she finally tears her gaze away. Jason, who seems oblivious to everything in life, is now standing on the other side of Jamie, chatting about something I don’t give a flying fuck about. Jamie is nodding patiently, smiling when appropriate, and I wonder why in the fuck Jason hasn’t decided to get into her pants.
“Ooooh, what’s this?” Carly says, her fingers sliding down my abdomen and towards my hard-on. “Has someone come out to play?”
