Page 28 of The Hopelessly Bromantic Duet
“Like, at all?” she asks when she finishes her biscuit.
I shrug. “Not once. And on Wednesday, I saw him for maybe five minutes at eleven at night. He came home then. Actually, I think he was home quite late on Tuesday too. Maybe after me.”
She arches a brow. “Do you think he was out meeting less handsome men than you? I mean, obviously, they’d be less handsome.”
“Obviously.” I drink some Earl Grey to wash away the thought of TJ meeting other men. “Anyway, I suppose he could be seeing other guys.”
Olivia pats my hand. “Maybe he’s just making new friends here. It’s not a terrible thing if he is. I mean, it’d be good if you don’t see each other more than you have to. I imagine you wanted to climb him like a tree during those five minutes of togetherness?”
“As a matter of fact, yes, I did. Thanks for reminding me, minx.”
Another devilish smile. “So, when he came home late, did he look all freshly fucked?”
I groan at the image of a freshly-fucked TJ—though, I suspect it’s the other way around, which works for me. “No. He returns with his laptop. So, I dunno—maybe he’s just working, covering the markets. I suppose he has late story deadlines. Then he’s up early in the morning. He goes for a run. And then he comes home and showers, and makes toast, and heads off.”
“Hmm.”
“What’s that ‘hmm’ for?”
“For someone who’s trying to be just friendly, you know an awful lot about his habits.”
“Well, he is my roommate. I would hope I know something,” I say defensively.
She tuts as she swirls the last biscuit in her tea. “You seem to know an awful lot about his habits in the morning when you’re sleeping,” she amends, then devours the treat.
“I hear him get up! I’m a light sleeper. Besides, are you trying to catch me in something? In still lusting after him? I fucking admitted I want him to bang me.”
She laughs but then shifts gears, softening as she asks, “What’s he like?”
That’s easy. “Snarky. Witty. Likes to knock me down a peg. Also, helpful. He fixed the sink and the drawer in my dresser. It was squeaking on Monday, but the squeaking stopped Monday night, so he must have fixed it while I was out.” I keep to myself that when I texted to thank him, he replied withJust call me Tool Johnson.
“So . . . you like him?”
“What do you mean?”
She only arches a brow.
“What are you saying, Liv?” I press. I hate unsaid things. I hate when she observes me and doesn’t just spit it out.
“I’m saying I don’t think you just want to shag him, Jude,” she says, uncharacteristically salt-free. “It sounds like you like the guy. You just told me how he fixed a drawer,” she says, too bloody observant.
Good thing I didn’t mention he sent me a playlist. Or that we texted about it.
I don’t want to like TJ in the way she means. Not after my university ex left me, sayingI just don’t feel the same way for youas he walked out the door with a casual shrug while sawing my heart in half.
“I have no interest in liking someone after Robert,” I say coolly.
“Robert was a twat,” Olivia says.
“I know, but I’m the twat who fell for the twat.”
“It happens to the best of us. It’s not your fault.”
“But itismy fault if I go out and get involved with someone else.” I hear myself and shake my head. “What in the holy fuck am I saying? I’m not getting involved. And I’mdefinitelynot getting involved with my roomie. I’m not getting involved with anyone.”
“Good. Then we can all go out sometime and have fun. As friends,” Olivia says. “Let’s get the crew together. Shane and Amanda and Archie.”
“Yes, that sounds like a fantastic idea,” I say. It’s just the sort of activity to keep TJ firmly in the friends and roomies zone.