I know Preston wants us to be more, but I just can’t commit to that. He’s great as a roommate, and I’ll be honest, he’s absolutely incredible as a hookup partner, but we’ll never be more.

  And okay, I’ll admit, his dick is impressive. As are his skills in the bedroom. Somehow I always manage to cross the finish line at least twice, if not three times when I’m with him—something that has never happened to me with anyone else. Ever.

  Not that there’s been anyone else in a long time. Working full-time and going to school full-time simultaneously eats up all my free time. That, and generally worrying about my future takes up a surprising amount of energy.

  Preston’s a sweet guy—as uncomplicated as white bread. And my life is anything but simple. My dad’s in prison—it’s not something I’ve ever admitted out loud. And I work my ass off to help both him make restitution, and to save for my future. I have big goals and I’m going to make something of myself. I don’t have time for a man. Plus, we have nothing in common aside from the fact that we both like orgasms.

  My last relationship went south in the most disastrous way, and I’m still not over the betrayal. So forgive me if I’m not ready to jump into anything resembling a commitment with a man.

  I dated Kyle for three years, we grew up together and to be quite honest, I always thought we would get married someday. We moved in together and everything was perfect. Until it wasn’t.

  My younger sister decided to take a gap year in between high school and college and needed a place to stay for a little while—I talked Kyle into letting her move in with us. Which honestly wasn’t that hard. He and my sister, Camyrn, were always close. She was a few years younger than us, but they shared a similar sense of humor and even had inside jokes between the two of them. And Camyrn was going through a rough patch—trying to figure out what she wanted to do with her life. Which, is you know, a daunting task when you’re nineteen years old. I was happy to help.

  Kyle made sure she was included and even brought her home little gifts—candy just because, or once a little plastic trophy that said, Congratulations! You made it through the week.

  I worked a lot and between that and school, I felt bad leaving her alone at the apartment so much, so I was grateful to Kyle for keeping her company. But then they grew closer—almost oddly so. I started to suspect something might be going on between them—but pushed the idea away, sure I was only being insecure.

  After Camryn left her phone on the counter and I saw a text from Kyle that I was never meant to see—I discovered they were sleeping together. When I confronted Kyle, he denied it, but when I pressed my sister, she finally told me the truth.

  They’d been having an emotional affair for months, and a physical relationship for almost just as long. Apparently Camryn pushed him to break things off with me so they could be together, and when he wouldn’t—he was too spineless—she intentionally got pregnant.

  So yeah my life is basically a Jerry Springer show.

  Camryn is due any day now and I haven’t spoken to either of them in months. They live together in the apartment he and I once shared. My name is still on the lease, but I just needed out of there. When I saw the listing for this room in Preston’s house in the suburbs—far away from them, I jumped at the chance.

  Now it’s all I can do to keep myself busy enough that I don’t have time to think about Kyle or my sister or my soon-to-be- niece or nephew that I wish I was more excited about.

  I decided months ago that Kyle wouldn’t get anymore of my brain space, but that eventually I would have to make up with my sister. Because, family, and all that. In my opinion, though, us making up would only start once she said the words, “I’m sorry,” which had yet to leave her lips.

  Which is why the first time I hooked up with Preston had been completely unexpected.

  We’d gone out drinking with a group of friends and when we got back home it was late—almost one in the morning. I should have gone to bed. Instead I agreed to watch a superhero film with him since we’d spent much of the night debating which franchise was better—Marvel or Star Wars. We’d sat down on the couch and then Preston turned to me. My mind drifts back to that night and my skin grows warm all over…

  My roommate’s lips are on my neck. My brain sputters and freezes. I should stop him, but I don’t. Because it feels really, really good. His mouth is apparently very talented and I haven’t been kissed in a very long time. I’m sure in the morning I’m going to regret this, but I push my fingers into his hair and tug, directing his mouth up to mine. I would never have imagined that a big, bulky hockey player could kiss so well, but he does. Holy hell. Preston’s tongue makes a slow circle around mine and my panties start to get wet. The man is a damn good kisser. I feel dizzy and a little weak. I know if he takes me to his bed, I won’t be able to resist. Even if it is a mistake.

  I’m a business student and he’s a jock. We should have nothing in common, but don’t tell that to my body because wow my libido roars to life, very happy with my current decision of letting Preston suck on my tongue.

  With a suddenly increased pulse, I shake my head, clearing away the thoughts.

  I suck at picking men. Don’t even get me started on Kyle again. And then there’s my dad is doing time for tax fraud and I’m trying to make something of myself and my life which doesn’t include going all fan-girl over some hockey player.

  Yes, Preston is attractive, but he wouldn’t understand my life. His mom sends him a package with chocolate chip cookies at least once a month and presents on his birthday. I only know this because he turned twenty-four last month and there was balloons and streamers and gifts, and all kinds of shit here. It took up half the dining room.

  I can’t hook up with him anymore, I know that deep down. Does it suck? Yeah kinda, but so does being an adult. Welcome to my life.

  4

  * * *

  PRESTON

  I don’t see Essie until Wednesday after practice. She returns home from class and drops her laptop bag at the front door.

  “Hey,” I say, lifting my eyes from my phone. I’ve been watching North Carolina’s power plays and trying to get a handle on what our penalty-kill strategy should be going into Saturday’s game.

  “Hey.” She sounds tired. She looks it too.

  “You’ve been busy, huh?”

  She nods, and tucks a length of dark hair behind one ear. “Yeah. I got home late last night. Hopefully I didn’t wake you when I came in.”

  “You didn’t.” A lopsided smile lifts one side of my mouth. “Not that I would have minded.”

  “Perv,” she mutters, rolling her eyes.

  “Did you catch the game?” I ask, watching her move into the kitchen to grab a bottle of water from the fridge.

  “No.” She takes a long drink. “I had to write a paper on IPOs.”

  I nod, and try not to feel disappointed. “That’s cool. IPOs are very important.”

  She laughs. “Do you even know what an IPO is?”

  I lift one brow. “Of course.”

  She doesn’t look convinced.

  “Want to hang out? Watch a movie?” I pat the spot on the couch next to me.

  Essie lets out a long sigh and rubs her temples. Then she replaces the cap on her water bottle and turns to face me. Even before the next words leave her mouth, I know I’m not going to like them. “Look, Preston, you’re a great guy. And I really like living here.”

  “Okay…” My voice comes out in a croak.

  “And the hookups were…” She stops herself, holding up one hand. “Were, you know, fun.”

  Fun?

  That wasn’t just sex. I don’t care what she says. That was two people worshipping each other, connecting on a level deeper than I have with anyone—ever. How does she not see this? We’re perfect together. In the bedroom, anyways. And I have a feeling we would be perfect outside of it too if she’d only give us a shot. But Essie is determined to keep me at a distance.

  “But I don’t do feelings,” she continues, meeting my eyes. “And I’m not looking for the whole boyfriend thing. It’s just not my scene.”

  “Okay, that’s fine,” I hear myself say but the words sound hollow. I hate this. Hate that I’m not enough for her, but I keep my expression neutral. I act like the aloof hockey playboy everyone probably expects me to be anyways and give her a weak smile.

  Essie nods once and then grabs her water and her bag and retreats to her bedroom, silently closing the door behind her—sending a message that’s as clear as day—she wants to be alone.

  Essie isn’t just somewhere to park my dick when I’m bored. She means a lot to me. Not that I can tell her that. It would probably send her running for the hills. She’s perfect. Beautiful. Smart. Sexy as fuck. Deciding I need to blow off some steam, I grab my keys and head to the gym.

  I try lifting weights, but I’m too distracted.

  I get on the treadmill to run and only make it a mile. God, this sucks. I haven’t been this spun-up over a girl since my high school crush dumped me right before prom. I’d felt like a loser back then, unlovable. I feel the exact same way now to be honest. Apparently I’m not one of those guys who can do casual hookups…although it never seemed to be a problem before Essie.

  I decide to text my teammate Jordie’s wife Harper. She’s really cool, and very no-holds-barred. She’s a couple of years older than me and I’ve found myself gravitating to her for advice. I shoot off a text to both her and Jordie since I don’t want my buddy to think it’s weird that I text his wife.

  Help meeee, my text says.

  Jordie is the first to reply. What’d you do now, you big idiot?

  There’s no sense in beating around the bush. I trust Jordie and Harper completely with my secrets. Fell for the wrong girl?

  Jordie replies again. This is Harper’s domain. Babe?

  I wait to see if she’ll reply, but she’s probably at work. I frown and stare down at my phone, like I can somehow will her to write back.

  Harp—I need relationship advice. I add a begging hands emoji for good measure.

  Come over tonight, Harper finally replies. I’m making spaghetti and can dole out some advice.

  Perfect. I’ll bring red wine. Love you guys. I stuff my phone in my pocket and decide to push all thoughts of Essie out of my brain until at least tonight.

  Over bowls of spaghetti Bolognese, I spill my story to Jordie and Harper. She looks at me with a concerned expression and urges me on. Jordie, on the other hand, barely takes a breath as he shovels forkfuls of pasta into his mouth. Classic.

  I tell them everything—the hot hookups we’ve shared, the fact that she let me hold her all night as we slept this last time, I even tell them about Warren and how I felt like beating him with a hockey stick.

  “I’m totally pathetic, right?” I say once I’ve finished.

  Harper gazes at me from across their dining table, swirling the ruby colored liquid in her wine glass. “Not necessarily.”

  “Go on,” I urge.

  “Here’s what you need to do.” There’s an evil glint in her eye and I lean forward in rapt interest as Harper tells me all the things.

  Oh, this is gonna be good…

  5

  * * *

  PRESTON

  At my friend Harper’s urging, I agreed to be set up on a blind date.

  Idiotic, I know.

  But Harper was convinced that if Essie thought I was moving on with someone else, it would force her to reveal her true feelings on the subject. The subject of how she feels about me.

  Since I’m an idiot and was also desperate, I agreed.

  Harper thought me going out with someone else would make Essie jealous, or make her realize that she does want to be with me. It was a longshot.

  The only person they could come up with on short notice was Harper’s hair stylist, Veronica.

  Veronica has purple hair and a lot of tattoos. We got Thai food and then I dropped her off at home. As far as I’m concerned, it was a colossal waste of time because yesterday when I told Essie I had a date tonight, she’d smiled at me and said, “Cool. Have fun.” Like it was the least interesting piece of information she’d ever heard.

  Fuck my life, am I right?

  I spent most of the date talking about Essie, which was probably not very cool of me. But Veronica was kind about it.

  I make it home by nine—which should tell you how not-great my date went. But Essie’s not here, so I sulk to my bedroom in defeat.

  I’m lying on my bed texting with Harper and Jordie when there’s a light knock on my door.

  My heart rate kicks up.

  “Yeah?” I call and drop the phone onto my bed.

  The door opens, and Essie peeks inside. “Are you awake?”

  “Yeah.”

  “You up for company?”

  “Sure.” My pulse starts to pound in anticipation. I move over and Essie sits down beside me on the bed.

  She yawns and I pat the pillow. “Lay down. You tired?”

  She nods sheepishly and lays down on my pillow, curling onto her side to look up at me.

  Man, she’s pretty. Her hair across my pillow is a welcome sight but I try not to be creepy by staring. She looks tired tonight. Between her internship and her classes, I’m sure she is. I wish I could do something to help her, but I’m not sure what. Essie is also very independent and I wouldn’t want to make her feel helpless. Something tells me she’s not good at accepting help anyway.

  My phone lights up with another text from Harper or Jordie, but I ignore it.

  “How was your date?” she asks.

  I lay down beside her and gaze up at the ceiling. There’s a crack in the plaster in the shape of a sealion. I debate with myself about how honest to be with her. If the point, according to Harper is to make her jealous…I should lead her to believe it went well, right? On the other hand, I won’t lie to Essie.

  I swallow. “It was okay. Her name was Veronica. My teammate’s wife introduced us.”

  She gives me an uneven look. “And was she wife material?”

  I bark out a laugh. “Uh. Next question.”

  Essie doesn’t pepper me with questions though. If there’s one thing we know how to do, it’s how to share a comfortable silence.

  Essie closes her eyes and lets out a long slow breath. She’s relaxed around me and completely comfortable. Something about that is…actually kind of annoying. I poke her in the ribs. Her eyes open.

  “You’ve got to give me a real shot before you decide this won’t work.”

  Her eyes stay on mine.

  “One date. I get to wine and dine you.” And sixty-nine you, I mentally add because I have the maturity of a sixteen-year-old. Thankfully I don’t say that part out loud.

  One of her eyebrows lifts. “Okay.”

  “Okay.”

  6

  * * *

  PRESTON

  Part of me still can’t believe that Essie agreed to this date. I’ve asked her out no less than a dozen times over the past nine months that she’s lived here. I’d gotten used to getting shot down. Which means the fact that she finally said yes has thrown me off my game.

  I spend a ridiculous amount of time planning our date, researching where to go, reading restaurant reviews and mapping out our way around the city just so there were no surprises. The last thing I wanted to do was get stuck in a construction zone or waste our time in needless traffic. Then I spend almost just as long showering, manscaping and getting ready. I want tonight to be perfect—to show Essie that we can be so much more than just fuckbuddies.

  Just when I’m about ready, there’s a sudden knock on my bedroom door.

  “I need to talk to you,” Essie’s voice floats through the door. I open it and she steps inside carrying a decently sized flesh colored sex toy. I might have been a little jealous if not for my own more than adequately sized dick.

  “Um Ess?” I clear my throat. “I thought we’d go to dinner first. I made us reservations at—”

  She holds up one hand. “Stop talking.”

  A sudden wave of panic flashes through me. Is the toy for her, or am I its intended target? What is happening? I must say this part out loud because Essie sits down on the side of my bed. She’s still holding the toy. It’s wrapped tightly in one fist. “This was supposed to be the only penis in my life.” She waves the toy at me.

  “Um okay…” My brain short-circuits, but I’m trying really hard to roll with the punches here.

  “And then you came along, so sweet and kind and patient. God you’ve been so patient.” She meets my eyes and there’s a pained expression on her face.

  My stomach sinks. She’s about to cancel. I can see it written all over her. Her shoulders are tense and her eyes have a firm look about them.

  “I’ll I’ve done is push you away. I know I’m a mess okay?”

  “You’re not a mess. You’re focused. I get that. Hell, I respect it a ton.”

  “Well, thank you, I think. But it’s time we had a talk.”

  She pats the spot on the bed next to her and I take a seat.

  “All right.”

  I’m guessing this is where she lets me down easy. Where she sits me down and tells me once and for all that things are over between us. Not that they had ever really begun, a couple of hot hookups aside. It was all over before it even started. The look of defeat on her face says it all.

  “What do you want to talk about?” My voice sounds wooden and hollow, but I’m not exactly feeling thrilled right now.

  “This.” She motions between us. “I just can’t, Preston. I’m sorry. You’re an incredibly sweet guy, but my life…” She swallows.

  “Tell me.” I lean in closer. “Tell me whatever it is you need to say. Tell me why we wouldn’t work.”

  Her schedule is busy, sure, but so is mine. I’ll take what I can get and I’ll never pressure her. I know how important school is.

 

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