Total pages in book: 112
Estimated words: 108846 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 544(@200wpm)___ 435(@250wpm)___ 363(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 108846 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 544(@200wpm)___ 435(@250wpm)___ 363(@300wpm)
“Shit.” I stoop to pick them up just as someone stops the sliding doors from closing.
“I hate it when people jump into a closing elevator,” a guy says, out of breath, reaching to help me.
I look up to find a man smiling at me. He obviously came from the gym or a jog because his shorts and T-shirt are drenched with sweat and his blond hair hangs limp around his forehead.
I stand. “I wasn’t cursing you. I was cursing these.”
Blue eyes take in the textbook in his grip. “Economic policy. My favorite.”
“You’re lying, right?”
“If I say that I’m not, will you think less of me?” He flashes a boyish grin. “I majored in economics at Cornell.”
“Impressive.” Only one of the top schools in the country. This guy must be smart. And I’ve never seen him before. “Did you just move in?”
“About a month ago.” He pauses for a second, then thrusts out his hand. “I’m Kyle.”
I fumble to free myself and take it. “Ryan.”
The elevator opens to the fourth floor. Kyle holds the door and waits for me to step out.
“It was nice to meet you,” I offer.
“Yeah, you too.” He hesitates. “I’ll see you around the building?” It comes out sounding like a question—or an invitation?
But I’m too focused on my next run-in with my new roommate to give it much thought. “Yeah, sure.” I sling my backpack over my shoulder and head for the end of the hall, equal parts excited and panicked.
It’s Thursday. Connor always goes out on Thursdays, and since the two of them have been attached at the hip, I have to assume Ronan’s gone too. They’re likely at the bar. Will Ronan pick up someone tonight?
Is he going to bring home a woman?
An unexpected wave of dread hits me, even as I remind myself that he was up front with me last night about it being a onetime thing. He’s going to do whatever he wants with whomever he wants tonight.
I’m so dumb.
Why did I think sleeping with him was a good idea?
By the time I walk into our empty condo, I’ve worked my stomach into knots.
Now I get to sit here, my guts twisted with all kinds of terrible ideas. Seriously, this is why I can’t have casual sex.
With a groan, I throw my bag to the floor and head for the fridge, even though my appetite is dead.
“What the …” I frown as I take in my shelf. Everything is shifted around, out of order. The large containers are sitting on top of small ones. And my yogurts are flipped upside down. It’s utter chaos.
Connor wouldn’t do this. He knows how much I hate people touching my things. This had to be Ronan’s work. Is it payback for something or is he trying to get under my skin? Is this the equivalent of pulling pigtails in twenty-something-year-old Man Whore Land? I actually don’t know how old he is. Or anything about him.
Shaking my head, I spend a few minutes reorganizing everything before I grab an apple and head to my room.
Things are out of place there too. It’s all subtle, and for someone who isn’t particular probably wouldn’t be noticeable. A picture that’s not quite straight, a book that’s flipped upside down in a stack of right-side-up books, a necklace dangling oddly on its hook.
My stomach erupts in butterflies even as my jaw tenses, knowing Ronan was in my bedroom. He’s testing me.
But to what end? To tell me he’s thinking about me?
Or simply to piss me off.
No. It’s to get a reaction out of me and force a confrontation.
Two can play at this game.
I hesitate with my hand on his doorknob, listening intently. No sound. The door creaks as I push it open. My pulse skips a beat at the sight of his bed—unmade, the sheets tangled in a ball. His work clothes are strewn over the dresser, along with a fistful of change and scraps of papers. Receipts, though I see phone numbers scrawled on the backs. God, he’s as bad as my brother. Did he get those numbers today while trolling the hotel beach, pretending to work?
Another wave of dismay washes over me. If he brings someone home and I have to listen to them have sex … I don’t think I’ll be capable of shrugging it off so easily.
There’s not much I can do in here to irritate him. It’s already a mess. I could clean his room, toss out all those phone numbers. Would he care?
I know one thing he will care about.
I dart over to his nightstand. Inside the top drawer is a box of condoms—economy size. “Pig,” I mutter. Let’s see how far he gets without these.
There’s not much else in the drawer. A tube of lubricant, unopened. My cheeks flush. We definitely didn’t need that. There’s also a framed picture. I pull it out and study it. It’s of Ronan in a graduation gown, his arm around a stunning brunette. She’s smiling broadly, her arms wrapped around his waist. They look like they’re in love. I’m guessing this is his ex.