Rm W/a Vu

Rm w/a Vu

Copyright © 2016 A.D. Ryan

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical terms, including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author, except by a reviewer, who may quote brief passages in a review.

This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

Ryan, A.D.

Rm w/a Vu / A.D. Ryan

ISBN 978-1523496914

Text and Cover design by Angela Schmuhl

Cover Image: Shutterstock, © Stokkete

Back Cover Image: istock, © mocker_bat

Acknowledgements

Here we are again. Book six. Can you even believe it? I can’t. These last two years have been quite a journey, and there are so many people to thank.

First, to my incredible husband and my amazing littles. You guys inspire me each and every day. The support I feel from all of you is immeasurable and will forever be appreciated. You all deal with my special brand of crazy, even joining in whenever a new book is finished and arrives in the mail. I couldn’t ask for a better family. Thank you for being awesome humans.

My parents and siblings, who are always asking questions about what I’m working on—this often leads to awkward pauses between my parents and me as I find a way to skirt the naughty storylines. I appreciate all you guys do from silent support, to sharing my work with others, and even the brutal honesty.

Speaking of that honesty; Marny, you’ve inspired me since the early days of my writing “career.” You were always straight with me on when my story direction sucked, and I’ve always valued that. I love you, and I miss hanging out with you. We really need to stop having lives so we can, like, do nothing with our chother, mkay?

Tiff and Lynda, who saw this story before anyone else, you’ve given me so much guidance over the years, and while life has gotten in the way of us talking as often as we used to, your help has been invaluable. This was the story that brought us together, and I’m so grateful that you’ve both stayed with me all this time.

My pre-readers and street team; you guys ate this story up and had such lovely things to say. I can’t lie and say I never doubt my writing, and this book is so quirky and goofy that there were a lot of doubts along the way. It was your constant support that kept me from working on something else entirely.

And finally, to the ones who’ve been anxiously awaiting the phoenix that has been born from the ashes: my fandom friends. I hope you love the changes this story has gone through since I first wrote it several years ago.

Thank you all for standing by me and supporting this crazy dream I had.

Chapter 1

U
gh
. My neck is positively aching, and I let my heavy, book-filled backpack fall from my shoulder to relieve it as I prepare to exit my last class of the day. Why I chose to take on such an intense course-load is beyond me—I guess my anxiousness to finish college and start my career as soon as possible could have factored in at some point.

Regardless of my reasoning, it’s what I chose, and I am suffering the repercussions now in my sophomore year at Arizona State.

As I stumble down the last few steps, my English prof, Professor Drayke, calls me over to his desk and hands me my latest paper. I groan when I see the giant red “B–” that’s written at the top of the page as well as all the little notes and comments. Considering I want to get a job in publishing, I can’t exactly afford my grades to keep declining the way they have been. I already know I’m going to have to study my ass off for midterms coming up right away, which is going to piss Ben off since I’ll be locking myself away more than I already have been.

“Not your best work, Miss Foster,” Drayke tells me, pushing his thick-rimmed glasses up his nose. He’s looking at me, his dark eyes boring into me, waiting for some kind of explanation.

I refrain from rolling my eyes at him, nodding solemnly instead. “I know.”

“What happened?”

It’s clear that he doesn’t really care, but I decide to answer him anyway. “I guess I’m just feeling overwhelmed by my courses this semester. I’ll work harder, I promise.”

Drayke acknowledges me with a nod, a few strands of his greying hair flopping over his forehead, and then waves me away dismissively.

Shoving the paper into my bag and throwing it over my other shoulder, I think about what I’m going to tell Ben. He isn’t going to be happy that I’m cancelling our movie date tonight—especially since it will be our first one in weeks, and I took the night off from my job at the coffee house so we could spend some time together.

His patience with my additional studying is starting to wear thin, and it’ll only be a matter of time before we have a huge fight about it. On the plus side, this also means I won’t have to put out. It’s not that I hate sex; I just don’t get what the big deal is. It isn’t all fireworks and revelations like the movies lead you to believe. I often wonder why we’re even together. I really should just end things. Set him free to do whatever he wants. Maybe after finals, when I have time to actually sit down with him.

After the inevitable fight, Ben will come crawling back—he always does—and he’ll have with him flowers or a gift of some sort. Instead of just acknowledging the argument, Ben always throws money at the problem in hopes it’ll go away, but it really only insults me. Then we wind up in bed together. That sex isn’t usually so bad. He’s usually a little more tender and giving. Not always, but on occasion.

As I make my way, I pull my cell phone out of my pocket and dial Ben’s number. There’s no answer, leading me to believe he’s probably on his way over and I’ll have to cancel our date face-to-face. With a sigh, I enter the building that my room is in and trudge down the hall. The closer I get, the more clearly I make out what sounds like breathless moans coming from this year’s roomie, Delilah, inside. This isn’t new; Delilah has a reputation, and apparently she feels the need to uphold it.

A flare of annoyance rises in me because I can’t just walk into the room. Well, I suppose I could, but walking in on someone having sex isn’t something I particularly enjoy doing. I’m pretty sure I still suffer from a mild case of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder after seeing my mom and dad on the kitchen counter the last time I dropped by the house to say hi.

You can bet your ass I called from that point on.

Dropping my book bag to the floor with a heavy thud, I lean against the wall. I slide down until I’m sitting on the hard tile with my elbows on my knees and my hands in my hair. Other students walk by, going to and from their rooms and the washrooms, and every time one of them looks down at me, I feel like an animal on display at the zoo. They probably think I’ve locked myself out. Of course, if they know my roommate—which most of the male population does—they know what’s really going on.

The sounds coming from behind the thin door are escalating. People are staring, not just at me now, but at the door too. I blush, offering each and every one of them a shrug, only to be met with sympathetic eyes. If I could afford private housing, I would be there in a second.

“Oh, yes!”
I clench my eyes shut, hearing Delilah’s mounting cries.
“Fuck me harder! Oh, you like it dirty, big boy?”

Good grief
. I know Delilah is a little freaky, but I didn’t think she was into reenacting bad porn.

As if hearing her cry out in the throes of whatever-the-hell it is she’s doing isn’t enough, I’m now being subjected to the low, guttural grunts of her male partner. I bury my face in my hands, gripping my hair at the roots and tapping my foot against the crappy tile rapidly, trying to think of more pleasant things than what’s really going on in there.

“Oh…oh…OOOOOOOH!”

Aaaaaaaand, she’s done.
Lifting my face from my knees, I smooth down the front of my hair because I know it’s probably standing up from the rough tugging. This won’t be the last time something like this will happen, and I know I should look into moving rooms. I wait a few minutes, really enjoying the silence coming from our room as I assume they’re getting dressed. I’m confident in this assumption because Delilah seems about as cuddly as a porcupine.

Finally, Delilah’s laugh is heard from behind the door, and it sounds like she’s getting ready to kick her latest tryst out.
“That was great. I don’t know why we don’t do this more often.”

Not wanting her to think that I’ve been out here eavesdropping like some kind of pervert, I stand up and try to make it look like I’ve just got impeccable timing. I grab the shoulder strap to my book bag, lifting it at the exact moment that the door swings open. What I see on the other side stuns me. Or should I say
whom
…?

Chapter 2

“
B
—Ben?” I blink because I must be seeing things, but when I open my eyes again…and then again, I’m staring directly into the faces of my
bitch
of a roommate and my lying, sack of shit boyfriend. “What the hell?”

“Hey, Jules,” he says, smiling suddenly. His eyes still show just how shocked he is to find me here. Outside
my
room. “I came by to see you. Delilah and I got to talking.”

“I was in class. You knew that.” I don’t think I’ve blinked again, and my eyes are drying out.

Ben scratches the back of his neck, dropping his gaze from me. “Oh, yeah. Well, I thought you’d be do—”

“What the hell?” I shout, cutting him off before he can feed me some lame-ass excuse.

“Uh…uh,” he stammers, looking back at Delilah and then me again.