Page 19 of The Roommate Problem
He shrugged, taking a sip of his beer. “You two seem really friendly, that’s all.”
“Yeah, because we are friends.” Which she and August would be, too, if he could just loosen up a little. “Parker and the other firefighters are a great group. Super fun to hang out with, but he’s not my one.”
“Your one?”
“Yeah, my soul mate, one true love, the person I’m meant to be with.”
He scoffed. “Fairy tales.”
“You don’t believe in love, August?”
His answer was a snort. Okay, then. Kinda sad, in her opinion, but she couldn’t make people believe in love. She had proven on many occasions to be a great wingwoman. Maybe all August needed was a good time.
He was a handsome guy—sexy as sin, in all honesty—and they were in a bar filled with people looking to hook up. Maybe he just needed to release some tension in the bedroom, and since, sadly, she couldn’t help him in that area, she’d do the next best thing and find him someone who could.
She glanced around the bar, looking for the perfect match to help August work off his…tension, but when she tried to imagine any of the dozens of beautiful women in the room grasping onto August’s arm, whispering sexy words in his ear, taking him back to their place for some bedroom acrobatics, a strange burning sensation filled her gut.
Weird. Must be heartburn from brinner. Yeah, that was it. She probably shouldn’t have ordered the extra side of bacon.
“Okay, so you don’t believe in love, but how do you feel about hookups?”
That got his attention. August turned his head to stare down at her, his brow pinching in confusion.
“What?”
She indicated around the barcade to the groups of fantastically dressed women, subtly bobbing her eyebrows and giving him an overexaggerated wink.
“Are you trying to get me laid?” August asked in disbelief.
“I’m trying to get you to have fun, August.” She took another chug of her beer. “I figured since nothing else could get those boxers of yours out of your butt, maybe a good trip to pound town could.”
He set his half empty glass down on a small high-top table with a loud thunk. Beer sloshed in the glass, a few drops popping out and running down the side of the cup. “I think it’s time to head back to the apartment.”
Talk about ungrateful. Her annoyance at the evening’s bust started to fume into full-blown anger. Mo hated being angry. It was an ugly emotion she tried to avoid at all costs.
“Well, excuse me.” She placed her own glass down, gently and without spilling any beer. Stepping closer, she craned her neck, tilting her head up so she could stare into his cranky, churlish face. “It’s not my fault you’re allergic to fun.”
He bent his head down, nose inches from hers, eyes blazing with frustration. “Did you ever stop to think that your version of fun might not be everyone’s cup of tea?”
Um, no. Not really. Who didn’t like good food and playful activities? And why was she all of a sudden second-guessing herself? Mo never second-guessed herself. August was messing with her head in more ways than one, and she didn’t like it one bit.
His frown intensified. “I like the things I like, and I’m not going to change myself. Not for you or anyone else.”
She poked him in the chest with her finger, anger rising to the boiling point. “I didn’t ask you to change. I asked you to loosen up.”
August reached out, lightning quick, and grabbed her finger away from his chest. But instead of simply removing it, he held her hand in his large palm, thumb gently rubbing along the sensitive skin of her wrist. She didn’t even think he was aware he was doing it. His touch might be soft, but his eyes were hard. And the heat was back, blazing, burning her up from the inside out as he stared at her face, gaze moving down to her lips.
Unconsciously, her tongue came out to wet her bottom lip. She thought she heard August growl, but the room was so noisy. It could have just been an arcade game or something. They stood like that for a moment or minutes, she couldn’t tell. Time seemed to slip away as August held her immobile with a soft touch on her wrist and sizzling look in his eyes. His head started to dip down. Holy crap, was he going to kiss her?
Just as she thought it might be a good idea to indulge in a bad decision, he reared back, as if good sense had returned to him. Dang it. Then he stepped back, dropping her hand and turning toward the door.
“Forget it. Thanks for the…night out. Can we go home now?”
Suddenly, she felt like she had as a kid, when she did something wrong and her parents weren’t mad at her but disappointed. Guilt gnawed at her stomach. This had been the most frustrating and weirdest night she’d had in a long time. She was totally fine with calling it.
“Yeah, let’s go.”
They headed out the door and back to the car. Guess her wingwoman skills needed work. Her friendship skills, too, because of the many confusing things that had happened tonight, one thing was crystal clear. August Porter did not want to be her friend.
This did not bode well for her plan to make nice so he continued to rent from her. Unless she wanted to be apartment hunting or rooming with the Bella Swan wannabe, she needed to fix this situation and fast.
She racked her brain for ideas. She could simply apologize and move on, but that sounded so boring. An idea popped into her head, one so perfect and delicious, a smile curled her lips. She’d make him an apology treat. Her nonna always said the way to a man’s heart was through his stomach. She didn’t want August’s heart per se, but she needed to soften the guy up somehow. What better way than with baked goods? It was sure to get August to accept her apology and be her new bestie.
Okay, that might be taking it a little far, but hopefully, it would score her a few points in the Mo’s-not-the-worst-roommate-ever category.
Time to pull out the big guns and apologize…Mo style.
