I'VE LOST MY mind.

That's the only explanation for why I let things go so far between us last night.

I never should have asked her for anything in the car, but how she looked at me... The way she licked her bottom lip? I thought it had insinuated she wanted something, but I was mistaken. I was too weak to throw out the possibility of it. If Emery wanted to act on those thoughts, I was about to let her, and what a fucking mistake that would have been.

I can't be around the woman without needing to be close to her. The cushion between us on the damn couch was too much space, and when her feet settled on my lap, right on top of my cock, there was no way I would let her move. Laying with her and playing video games while she ate tacos felt too natural. I was spiraling right before my eyes, and I needed to stop. Immediately.

Setting up a date was the only thing I could think of to calm these thoughts of her. Everyone thinks I'm this playboy who screws every girl in sight, but that's not true. Women flock to me, and that's not being spoken out of arrogance. It's simply the truth. And any woman I decide to take out knows everything up front. I'm not looking for a relationship, nor do I want one. And that's not because I'm seeking to screw every female I can get my hands on. I'm good being alone. It's what I know. It's what I'm used to. I don't need someone coming in and screwing that up.

I grit my teeth when I remember Emery's fuzzy socks on my lap.

Yeah. It's definitely time for a date.

Chelsey is someone I met at the gym who I've gone out with here and there. We're both on the same page, which is why she's the one I call. I know that with her, I can go out and have a nice dinner, have good sex, and go back to living my normal life when I wake up.

I'll just have Emery right across the hall now.

I'm buttoning the rest of my dress shirt when the knocks sound on the door downstairs. I didn't think Emery was home, but I hear the door open and silence. A lot of silence.

"Uh, hi... I'm Chelsey. Is Everett here?"

Fuck. I'm scrambling to zip my dress pants and grab my dress loafers from the closet when Emery replies, "Yeah. I'll get him."

"Are you his sister?" She asks.

"What? Oh, no. I wish I looked like Izzy. I'm Everett's..." The silence at the end of that sentence is terrifying. "Roommate," she finishes. "I moved in about a week ago."

I'm finally able to thud down the steps, barely having the time to grab my suit jacket as I join them by the front door. "Oh, Everett, there you—" Emery stops talking when she sees me, her eyes grazing down my outfit. She better stop. I swear I'm seconds away from taking her upstairs and fucking that mouth of hers that's currently hanging open.

"I thought you worked tonight?" I asked.

Emery shakes her head. "No. Tonight was, uh...my only one off, actually."

Realizing I haven't even said hello to Chelsey, I pull her into my side and kiss her cheek. "You look beautiful," I say. "Ready to go?"

It's not until then that I notice pots and pans on the stove and two bowls sitting on the counter beside them. Emery was making us dinner. She was cooking for me. Was that just to be friendly, or did she want to spend time with me? I don't know which theory terrifies me more.

I don't owe Emery any explanation. I don't need to tell her when or if I'll be home, so I don't know why I feel the need to. We're roommates; we are not in a relationship.

Emery eyes Chelsey, sending her a warm smile. "I like your dress. It's really pretty."

"Thanks," she gushes. "It's Versace."

I wince at the expression on Emery's face. I know she's used to girls like this since they surrounded us in high school with all the other uppity-rich kids, but I can only imagine how frustrating it must be to feel so...out of place and left out. She's never been able to afford dresses like that, and I wonder if she's ever wanted one.

"From the vintage collection," she replies admiringly. Of course, she'd know the details. She's studying fashion, after all. "Well, have a good night."

My eyes linger on hers, waiting to see if she'll tell me to stay back, and I don't know why I want her to. She's given me no insight as to whether or not she's interested, and even if she were, I can't make a move.

I have to keep repeating that to myself more and more these days.

•─────⋅☾ ☽⋅─────•

I ended up returning home early from the date.

Girls like Chelsey like to be wined and dined, and I'm okay with doing that, but the entire dinner, I could only think how stiff and awkward I felt compared to when Emery and I sat inside my house playing video games and eating tacos. I tried to contemplate the entire steak dinner why that felt more intimate than a five-star restaurant, and in the process of doing that, I lost interest in bringing Chelsey home with me.

Loosening the tie around my neck, I quietly shut the door to my apartment behind me, but Emery is still watching one of her reality television shows. She glances over the back of the couch, making sure I'm not a serial killer before she turns back to the TV again.

The awkwardness is deafening. Typically, I wouldn't give anyone the time of day if they were mad at me. I don't care what anyone thinks, but not knowing if Emery is pissed irks me for whatever reason. "Are there any leftovers from dinner?" I ask. I'm still full from the steak, but she put in the effort to make it for me.

"Yeah. It's stir-fry—second shelf," she says without turning around.

I nuke the plastic container and grab a fork, sitting directly beside her on the couch. Putting my feet up on the coffee table, I cross my ankles and take a few bites, groaning in pleasure. "Damn, this is good."

She quirks a brow. "Really? That beats whatever tiramisu or fancy-ass meal you just had? I find that doubtful. I'm surprised you're even back already."

"Me too," I find myself saying.

I eat the rest of the stir-fry in silence, the reality show providing enough background noise to avoid awkwardness. I hate that I find her plaid pajama pants so cute. I hate that they emphasize her thick thighs, making the urge to bury my head between them unbearable. But more than anything, I hate how I'm longing for that feeling of contentment we had the other night.

"So, am I able to have friends over?" She asks. "I was going to ask you earlier, but I didn't know you were going on a..." Waving her hand in the air, it seems like she's unable even to say the word date. "This is ultimately your home, so if it makes you uncomfortable, I'll completely respect that."

"Who are you thinking of bringing over?" I ask. If it's the girl she was with, then fine, but if it was Sam...

"Does it matter?"

"Kind of. I'd want to know if you were bringing over someone who was more than a friend. You know, thin walls and all." And I'll fucking kill Sam if I hear you moan his name.

She laughs, and the sound is like music to my ears. I wish she'd do it more often. "If I wanted to fuck, I wouldn't do it here."

That word coming off of her tongue... Christ.

"Glad to know we're on the same page then."

"And will you give me the courtesy of telling me when you're going to fuck Chelsey?"

"Why? Would it bother you to hear me fucking, Emery?" I don't know why the hell these things are coming out of my mouth, but I can't stop them.

I watch her gulp and sit straighter on the couch, turning her eyes to mine. "No, but would it bother you to hear me fucking, Everett?"

Oh, this woman...

Does she live to get under my skin?

I stand up to tower over her on the couch, and before I even realize what I'm doing, I'm gripping her chin forcefully with my hand, tilting it up so she'll look me directly in the eyes. Yes. This is how I want her. On her knees for me looking at me just like this.

"That's the difference between you and me," I tell her, bending down so my lips hover above hers. "I wouldn't let you fuck someone else under my roof, Emery. Not in a million years."

She blinks at the confession and is still trying to process it when I take a step away, releasing her chin from my grasp. Dammit. No matter what I do, she knows exactly what to say to break me. I'm putty in her hands and can do nothing to stop it. Every wall I've built around this lonely heart, every brick I've established, is knocked down by her one by one.

I loathe this woman

Yet I want her all the same.

"Have a good night," I mutter. And I know it's a shitty way to leave her, but I can't and won't get into this between us. The second she asks, I'll cave and tell her the truth, and once that truth is out? Nothing will change because it can't. We both know that.

Not when Liam is still our closest friend.

Author's Note:

The love on this story is UNREAL!!! THANK YOU!

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