2B or Not 2B (Roomies Series) (2 page)

He bit the nail on his left thumb, his eyes wandering
between the coffee table in front of us and the front door. The message was clear; he wanted me out of his place. But hell if I wasn't persistent.

"I won't change my mind," he bit back, making me recoil slightly. He took a deep breath
, and his cheeks turned a light shade of pink under his stubble.

"But it's late to find a roommate to split up the rent on this place," I pointed out, proud of my argument.

"I own this place. I just want the money for college expenses, and to party whenever I want."

He owned the place? Really? I cocked my head on the side. He owned the place? He didn't look loaded. I
really did not think his parents were rich. I guessed I was way wrong about him. My parents had money, big bucks really, and yet I was trying to convince this guy to let me live here with him. My dad barely agreed to cover my rent and give me my allowance because I wanted out of the campus dorms. I wasn't exactly excited to tell him I would be living with a guy who was a self-proclaimed womanizer. Well, if Byron relented that was.

"So I can't coerce you with money," I mumbled more to myself than for his benefit.

He laughed though. “Sorry to disappoint, but I inherited this place from my grandmother.’’

I pursed my lips and went for the kill.
You won’t resist this one, dear Lord Byron.
“One last thing before I leave." He nodded, and I put the wrinkled newspaper on the coffee table. "I like to party, so it wouldn't annoy me if you wanted to have a party every week. And I don't give a shit about who you're fucking in your bedroom, or how loud you make her scream."

Again, he
was at a loss for words. His eyes widened, and he chuckled, shaking his head with disbelief. It might be shocking to hear a girl talking like a guy would, but we're in the twenty-first century. Things evolved, and I was willing to let loose of the small, and only, filters I might have for him to see me as harmless and perfect for his lifestyle.

"You didn't just say that!" I shrugged. "I can see that you're not like other girls, but you
are still a girl. It wouldn't work."

I was pissed at his stubbornness. I'd never met anyone that stubborn! "Two months."

"Huh?"

"Give me two months here
, and then you have the choice. I'm in for the rest of the school year, or out forever."

His light blue eyes flared with a new sparkle in them. This guy was the challenge type. I should have seen it right away. He nodded and extended his big calloused hand. I nodded back and gave him my full on smile
showing all my teeth. After that I jumped up and down a couple of times under his astonished look. I was a difficult girl to follow most of the time.

"You won't regret it!"

"I think I already do," he replied, not missing a beat.

I ignored him and took
out my cell phone. I hit speed dial one to call my best friend. He answered on the first ring. "Bring your butt here; I've got a place!" Without waiting for his answer, I rattled the directions off and hung up.

Byron stood up and walked to the
last door in the corridor. He pointed to a door on the opposite wall and told me it was my room. "I guess your girl friend will be here in a few, so I'm going to my bedroom. Don't squeal too loud."

"I forgot you prefer
, ‘Oh, Byron! It's so good. Don't stop, Byron!’" I replied, faking intense pleasure. He stopped in his tracks and turned around, his mouth again open in a perfect O from shock. "And for your information, my best friend is a guy."

“I’ve never been so speechless in my entire fucking
life."

"Get used to it."

Chapter Two

DAY 1

"Not bad," Macon said, looking everywhere with his dark probing eyes. He nodded again and stood in front of the huge windows in the living
room. "You can even see a few trees there … between the two buildings."

I walked
over to him, weirded out that I hadn't seen this earlier. Macon, my best friend for as long as I could remember, was more cautious than I ever would be. He knew how I could get carried away when I was enthusiastic about something.

"Do you have enough time to help me unpack?" I asked him, already bored at the prospect of unloading the three huge
suitcases he brought with him from my parents' house. Macon's parents lived in the house next to mine. He's my boy next door, and I had a crush on him when I was a little girl until I realized he was chasing the same prey. He was my first heartbreak, and we often laughed about it.

You wouldn't easily guess he
’s gay by looking at him or talking with him. He always wore black biker boots, beat up jeans, and some grungy tee-shirt. In the winter he even wore an old leather jacket. His hair was never styled because he didn't give a damn about what others might think of him, and he only shaved once or twice a week. Girls often mistook him for the perfect
straight
bad-boy when he was, in fact, a perfect
gay
bad-boy.

"Your father asked me to drive you home because he wants to have a talk with you. Apparently, he wasn't delighted to know you had found a place, but your sister seemed ready to jump in my car to see it."

"Let me guess. Mom gave her her famous stern look. She won't say a thing, but I'm sure she thinks I chose to live off campus to have more freedom to sleep with guys," I said with an eye roll so pronounced that it brought back the headache I had chased away with an aspirin earlier while waiting for him to come over.

"Did you really think they wouldn't ask you some details about the place and your roommate?" He looked around and his eyes settled on the three
closed doors. "Speaking of, where is he?"

I bumped his shoulder with mine and led him to the
suitcases. Without complaining he took two of them, and I took the last one. Wobbling to my bedroom, he followed me. The room was not spacious, but it was more than enough for me. I had a dresser of a decent size, and the queen size bed looked welcoming to my tired bones. "He is in his bedroom. I think he's sleeping."

He put down both
bags and pursed his thin lips. "It's 5:30 in the afternoon."

"Macon."

"Don't Macon me, London." He closed the door behind him to grant us more privacy and faced me with his dark eyes burning a hole in my chubby face. Whenever he looked at me like that, I couldn't help but spill everything I - by some miracle - kept bottled up. "I want to see this guy."

I unzipped my
suitcase and began to sort out my underwear. I was not embarrassed to do such a thing in front of Macon. He had seen me naked a couple of times, and it did nothing for him … or me. I felt secure like that around him. Somehow, we could talk about everything and do everything, and we were still good with it. Nothing fazed us in our friendship. But he was used to my antics by now, and he had been numb to any weirdness for quite some time.

"You're not my dad."

He grabbed my arm, and I released my hold on my bright pink lacy bra and shorty panties. They fell on the ground between my red converse and his black biker boots. "You have never lived with a guy before, and I don't want you to have a weirdo as a roommate. He might be a perv."

I laughed at that and pushed away his delicate hand
, which stood out from his rough look. "There's such a right of passage to get in his bed that he won't give me the time of day, which I'm not going to ask for. Moreover, he's into leggy girls that are as thin as a model, which I'm certainly not."

"And I'm sure you frightened the poor guy," Macon said, now all seriousness and stiffness evaporated from his demeanor. I preferred this version of my best friend.

"He agreed, didn't he?"

He shook his head and began unloading another
bag full of black and dark blue jeans and brown, black, deep green and night blue tops. "But I still want to see the guy."

"He's not gay, Macon," I replied, stifling a laugh. Macon was always looking for the right guy. He wasn't overly romantic, but he did think that there was, somewhere, his right match. In the mean
time, he partied while looking for
him,
and he slept with guys he knew weren't for him. Of course, he had an excuse all ready. He told me it was because he wanted to have the most experience possible to provide his best for the right guy. He should say it was because he loved sex. That wasn't something to be ashamed of.

"Homophobic?"

"I don't think so, but I don't know the guy."

The door opened, startling us both. Macon had a white lacy bra in his right hand and the panties that went with it in his left
, and I was examining a black nighty when it opened. Frozen, we looked at Byron who was leaning against the wall inside the room. His lips slightly turned up on the right side, and he rubbed his light blue eyes—still heavy from sleep. He looked happy about his little effect.

"I'm not
a homophobe, to answer the question."

Macon looked at him from head to toe, his eyes stopping a little longer on the thin scar on Byron's face. I could recognize this look on anyone's face. Macon found Byron
yumtastic
. He often had a thing for straight guys.

"So
, you're the roommate," Macon said, nodding like guys often did when they didn't know each other or didn't like each other.

"And you're the best friend. I'm impressed if you can take her crap that often."

"Hey!" I exclaimed, hurt and frowning at him. "You don't know me. You just need some time to get used to me and warm up."

Macon gave me a one
-arm hug after throwing my underwear on the unmade bed. Byron's eyes followed the small items, and he chuckled. I wasn't sure, because it didn't happen that often, but I might be blushing hard. My cheeks were hot.

"I can guarantee you, you will never feel bored again with her around,"
Macon added with a laugh in his voice. For the first time, he seemed to side with someone else instead of me.

I punched him in his stomach and shrugged off his arm. He laughed softly, but I hit hard enough for him to massage his stomach with pain. I h
eld up my chin, daring him to say something, but he resumed his task of unloading the last of my clothes.

"You guys are staying for di
nner?" Byron asked, fishing the car keys from his jeans pocket and fidgeting with them.

"No, I have to
take her back to have a little chat with her parents. It'll be fun."

"You're not invited, Macon."

"I know it, baby, but I also know you'll give me a colorful play-by-play before your little sister will tell me a more down-to-earth version of how it went."

"Wait a sec," Byron interrupted before I answered something harsh. "Her parents don't want her here?"

"They don't want me anywhere except on campus, but they agreed to let me go if I found a place today. Which I did." I answered proud of myself. I took the three suitcases and threw them under the bed. "Fuck. I forgot the beddings."

"I've got some spare," Byron replied without hesitation
, and I smiled at him. He massaged his neck and frowned. “Never mind. I've got to go." He nodded to Macon. "There's a party tomorrow night. We'll see if you can take it."

Macon ran a hand in his messy hair and laughed, the corner of his almond shaped eyes crinkling. "Dude, you'll love to see her drunk."

I hit him again, on his right arm this time. "Not funny! I'm not getting drunk ever again."

Byron raised both eyebrows and shook his head. He walked out of the apartment without a question, leaving me with a dreamy-eyed Macon.

"This guy is sex on a stick. Are you sure you'll be able to resist?"

"Please, Macon!" I grabbed my set of
apartment keys that were on the bed and waved him off. "He may be hot in an unconventional way, but I won't wait for him naked in his bed anytime soon."

"Never say never, baby."

"My point. I didn't say it." I winked and led him outside.

* * *

DAY 1

"And you
’ve never met this boy before?" my mother asked me for the third time since I walked in the house two hours ago.

I sighed and pleaded with my eyes for my sister to help me out, but of course she
found all of this too funny to speak up. She laughed quietly. Sydney was the only girl in my life I was close to. She was a junior in high school, yet she was more mature than I was and was also fun to hang out with. Her blonde hair was longer than mine—almost long enough to brush her hips—but she was very thin compared to me. She had never had trouble with her weight despite the fact that she ate tons of junk food. Also, she didn't have brown eyes like mine, but dark green ones like our mother. So yes, Sydney was insanely pretty and much better than I would ever be, but it never elicited jealousy on my part. I was her older sister, and I loved her. Period.

"He's a man, Jules. At their age you can't describe them as boys and
girls," my father spoke up, his gloomy behavior almost funny; if only he could look at me without his hurt puppy dog eyes. The man needed to remember that I was craving my space, even if I was very close to them all.

"Please, g
et to the point. I won't spend another minute telling you I don't know him, nor do I know what his major is or if he is an only child. I just met him and had to convince him to let me live with him because he didn't want a girl at his place at first."

"But you could stay here another—‘’

"Not that again!" I cried out, cutting my Dad, who had gulped down all of his wine instantly, short. "I don't want to live here again. I'm a student, and I don't want to spend an hour, at best, in traffic to go to class. And I don't want to have to justify myself when I come home late because I was at a party."

"So you want to party," my mother pointed out, her fork directed at my face accusingly.

I stood up suddenly. This family was crazier than I was. Or maybe we were all at the same level, but it was way too much crazy all at once. "Of course I want to party, Mom! I'm nineteen! What do you think college students do when they're not in class?" I bent down and kissed Sydney on the cheek. "Come Monday around six o'clock, so you can visit my new place and meet my roommate. Okay?"

My parents both nodded at me, speechless. I grabbed my bag behind my chair
—I knew I would have to cut it short—and waved at them. They all waved back while Sydney laughed with her singing voice; that brought back a smile to my face. Yep, now I realized where I came from.

* * *

DAY 1

"Already back?"

The sound of his low voice startled me. The only light in the living room came from the show he was watching on the flat screen. I might be wrong, but I was pretty sure it was Sons of Anarchy. That TV show was badass. I closed the door behind me and locked it back. I made a face as I leaned against it.

"They're impossible. And
, of course, my little sister was no help. Sydney should take a class in how to support your sister."

"Sydney?" He chuckled and turned the sound down. "Don't tell me. That's where your parents conceived her."

"They have this thing with travels and cities."

"I might see where your weirdness
came from."

"Funny you say that because I thought the exact same thing when I left the
ir house." I walked to the couch and sat next to him, my red purse on my knees. "They're coming Monday around six."

"Not very surprising. They want to see where their precious daughter is going to live for the next two months."

"Or more."

He groaned and ran a hand in his buzzed hair. His shoulder bumped into mine, his bare arm
briefly touching mine. His skin felt smooth, smoother than I imagined it would from such a rough guy. "One thing at a time."

I yawned and stood up, knocking my knee on the coffee table. I cursed loudly, making him chuckle all over again. I glared at him. "'Night."

"Good night, London."

My steps faltered a little at the sweetness in his tone of voice. Maybe, just maybe
, he's better than I thought he'd be. Maybe there was more to him than what meets the eye—which was already quite good looking. I shook my head and cursed Macon. He was the one who really made me realize how attractive Byron was with his roughness, his scar, his light blue eyes, and his …
everythingness
.

My eyes landed on the mattress and the beddings at the foot. Fuck it all to Hell and back! I had to make my bed. I hated making it
, and I was dead on my feet. I faced planted on the bare mattress.