He stares at me.
“Pick up your clothes.”
“Nah,” I say. “I’ll do it later, roomie.”
Whit’s hands clench into fists, and he flexes them slowly. His cheeks are flushed, his eyes flicking from my discarded clothing on the floor to my nearly naked body.
I brush past him, letting my hand trail across his hand that hangs by his side, and a shock of lust travels up my arm.
And then he’s grabbing onto my wrist, stopping my forward momentum.
“It’s for the best,” he says tightly.
“Is it?”
“You’ll see.” He lets me go, and I disappear into the bathroom, not quite sure what just happened or why, but feeling like shit, nonetheless.
* * *
I don’t see him for the next few days. Our schedules don't overlap. I work long hours at the scrapyard, trading shifts with Sem and Luke, and then when I’m not in class, I spend time at Mal’s place. I’m sure Whit is doing something similar. Because when I’m at the apartment, he’s not there.
I see himoncewhen I’m leaving the apartment. I’m walking down the stairs, my cap pulled low over my head when he’s coming up.
He meets my eyes, and I just nod at him, not quite sure what to do at this moment.
He brushes past me, and my arm tingles when he touches me.
I pretend it doesn’t bother me, but I miss the fucker. Miss sleeping with him at night, miss holding his hand. Whatever, best to get over it now. He was right. Better to nip this in the bud before things get out of control.
I’m back to being straight, I think.
Not sure if I can swing from one end of the spectrum to the other at the drop of a hat. Is that a thing?
I don’t know what I’m doing.
Other guys don’t really do it for me. Objectively they’re okay to look at, but I don’t ever get hard from thinking about a dude’s dick. I just have a thing for Whit, I think.
He’s still the star in all my fantasies.
Asshole.
On Friday, things come to a head when I’m getting ready to head out with Mal and Bree. I’m going to be a third wheel, but I need to do something fun to help me stop obsessing about my roommate.
I’m going to get some tonight.
And by some, I mean sex. Hopefully by a very willing and enthusiasticwoman.
I’m grabbing my wallet and phone and am about to head out when the apartment door opens, and Whit appears.
His eyes meet mine before sweeping over the rest of me.
I look damn good tonight, not my usual laid-back self. I’m wearing a clean white t-shirt, a flannel long-sleeved shirt, and new blue jeans. My hair is styled, and my face is sporting nicely trimmed stubble. The only thing not quite clean is my work boots.
Where we’re going, this outfit will be a hit with the ladies.
“Won’t get in your way,” I mutter, about to move past Whit when he stops me.
“Where are you going?”