Just Roommates Read online

  I see Kyle—my overprotective, older, police-officer brother—strolling through the bar with a cocky smile.

  Kyle is cool but not cool enough to be okay with my being here. And even though Maliki wasn’t the one serving me booze, he’ll be held responsible. It’s his bar.

  My gaze swings back to the pissed off, broad-shouldered man, and his expression confirms we share the concern. He grips my hand and rushes us to his office. The door shuts, and I spin around, scowling at him.

  “Call the person who picked you up last time you were a pain in my ass. You have an hour, Princess, or I’m ratting you out to your brother.”

  “You wouldn’t dare,” I hiss.

  Maliki can easily snitch on me. He owes me nothing. And my money is on Kyle believing him.

  He stares at me in challenge. “Care to find out?” His voice drips with an authority that causes me to shiver.

  I gulp, turning quiet while figuring out my next move.

  “Call someone, Sierra. Don’t make me cause problems and tell your brother what you do in your spare time when he orders a beer from me in five minutes.”

  He starts to leave, but I stop him.

  “The person who picked me up last time was Ellie Ross. The real Ellie Ross,” I explain in exasperation. “And she’s the person I rode with tonight. She’s hammered, so I need another plan.”

  There’s no Uber here, and my mom is friends with the only taxi driver in town.

  “You have no other friends?”

  “Not one willing to leave because I’m getting booted.”

  He grabs a remote from the desk, seeming to accept my answer, and tosses it to me.

  The only changes to the office since my last visit are the TV on a wall and a wide sofa lining another.

  I play with the remote in my hands, taking his gesture as a surrender in not tattling on me. “I see you glammed the place up.”

  “I don’t know what the fuck that means, but sure.” Tension rides his face. He has a crowded bar and has to deal with me again.

  I fall heavily onto the chair and prop my feet on the desk. “How’s your Netflix watch list?”

  “I don’t know. I don’t watch TV.”

  Who doesn’t watch TV?

  I point to the TV with the remote. “You have a smart TV.”

  “When I’m in here, I work.”

  “Why did you buy it?”

  He blows out an annoyed breath. Answering my questions is the last thing he wants to do, but I don’t want to lose his company. I enjoy pushing his buttons, and hanging out in an office alone isn’t much of a party.

  “My sister works here and occasionally brings my cartoon-loving niece.” With that, he whips around, cursing under his breath, and leaves.

  I open Netflix, select That ’70s Show, and take off my leather jacket before shuffling to the couch. When I drag my phone from my bag, it’s dead.

  Shit.

  I yawn.

  I’ll watch one episode and then rummage through his drawers for a charger.

  My eyes slowly shut as I relax.

  A tap on my shoulder startles me awake.

  My head shoots up and connects with something hard. That something hard is someone’s chin. The strong chin-holder and I simultaneously groan. I massage my head when he pulls away. When I peek up from the couch, I expect to find Maliki at maximum annoyance.

  Instead, he looks drained. His bar tee is wrinkled and drink-stained.

  “All right, Princess. Time for you to go home,” he says.

  I comb my fingers through my ratty couch-head hair, and my stomach drops. “My phone died. I’ll call someone and wait outside until they get here.”

  Hopefully, there’s someone sober with Ellie.

  He extends his hand, helping me up, and retreats a step to give me room to walk around him. I snatch my jacket from the chair, yank it over my shoulders, and shove one arm in, stopping when he speaks.

  “I’ll take you home.”

  I gape at him, and my jacket falls loose on my uncovered arm. “Is that smart for me to get in the car with someone I don’t know? Stranger danger and all?”

  Who am I kidding? I’ve allowed him to force me into an office in the back of a bar twice. I’ve long surpassed smart decisions with him.

  He shrugs. “You can walk, but I’d rather you not. Your choice.”

  “All right, but I’d make a terrible hostage. My dad would tell you to keep me, and I’m very demanding. You’d be forced to bring me hot wings and a hair straightener and provide plenty of company.”

  He snorts. “Me kidnapping you is nothing you’ll ever need to worry about, Jailbait.”

  “Jailbait? I’m so not jailbait.”

  “You are jailbait. And trouble. The trouble of rich parents making a guy’s life a living hell for talking to their precious daughter.”

  He’s not wrong. My father would flip his shit.

  “Come on. I’m wiped.”

  I follow him out of the office to a door with a bright Exit light shining above it. The silence tells me the bar is closed.

  “What time is it?” I ask when he holds the creaky door open for me.

  We step out into an ill-lit, vacant back lot of the bar. I’m a twenty-year-old woman catching a ride with a stranger after a night of drinking, but I’m not alarmed. Call me twisted for being thrilled to spend time with this man even if it risks dying.

  Okay, I doubt he’s a serial killer, but I live for dramatics.

  “A little after two,” he answers.

  Good thing I’m staying at Ellie’s tonight. My mother would have the police—aka my brother—searching for me.

  Speaking of Ellie …

  Did she not realize her best friend was nowhere to be seen?

  I tighten my jacket around myself, my heeled boots crunching against the gravel, and follow him the short distance to a running car, the chilly breeze smashing into me.

  “Do you have a phone charger?” I ask behind him.

  He nods but doesn’t glance back at me. “In the car.”

  He opens the driver’s door to the black Camaro, and I do the same with the passenger side. We slide into our seats at the same time. I run my hands over my arms, grateful he heated the car.

  I wait quietly when he opens the glove compartment, grabs a charger, and gives it to me. “Thank you.”

  He shifts the car into reverse but doesn’t move from the parking spot. “You going to give me your address?”

  “God, no,” I rush out. “Do you want me sent to an all-girls’ college?”

  “I don’t know much about being sent to one, but it sounds like an overdramatic sorority girl like you wouldn’t like it.” He shakes his head and smiles. “I’m amazed your parents haven’t already shipped you off somewhere. I wouldn’t have predicted their daughter dearest to be such a rebel.”

  “Trust me, neither did they.”

  He reverses out of the parking spot, his arm settling at the top of my seat. “Is it an act of rebellion? Desire for attention?”

  “Neither. It’s me being me.”

  I’m half-tempted to shine my phone in his direction to see the expression on his face.

  Which reminds me …

  I clumsily plug my phone into the charger. As soon as it powers on, I text Ellie.

  Me: What the hell? I know you always forget shit, but I was hoping that stopped at your best friend!

  My phone beeps seconds later.

  Ellie: Calm down, drama queen. I watched you follow the hot bartender you have a thing for to the back.

  Me: I do not have a thing for him!

  Ellie: Yeah, okay. I’ll make you a doctor’s appointment for pretendinitis tomorrow.

  Me: That doesn’t clarify why you left me! YOU NEVER LEAVE A MAN BEHIND!

  Ellie: Chill out. He let me check on you twice, and you were snoozing. Your brother and Leo hung out all night. When I tried figuring out an escape plan, Maliki offered to take you. I’ve been waiting up for you to call, s
o I can let you in.

  Me: He could’ve severed my head off!

  Ellie: My sister used to bang him. He’s not into that kinky shit.

  Me: I hate you. We’re broken up.

  Ellie: I’ll make you waffles in the morning and buy you a new candle.

  Me: Two candles, and you’d better have Nutella.

  Ellie: Fine, two candles, and duh. Do I still need to wait up, or are you staying the night with him?

  Me: I’m on my way. He doesn’t have a kink for chicks who can’t legally drink either.

  Ellie: What a shame.

  “You going to tell me where we’re headed?” Maliki asks, breaking me away from texting.

  I drop my phone into my lap. “Ellie’s.”

  “And where does Ellie live?”

  “You should know since you’ve banged her sister.”

  “It’s weird you’re assuming and entertained with my sexual history, Jailbait.”

  I bite the inside of my cheek. “That’s what Ellie said.”

  “If Ellie said it, it must be true.”

  I shift in my seat to face him and cross my arms. “Are you saying it’s not true?”

  He leaves the parking lot, not answering my question, and drives toward Ellie’s house—confirming the sister-screwing. I’ve never been a fan of Ellie’s older sister. Chick once spit gum in my hair. The fact that she slept with Maliki makes me hate her more.

  “You know, I found condoms when I searched through your office last time.”

  He taps his fingers against the steering wheel and keeps his eyes on the road. “I know.”

  My mouth falls open. “You watched the cameras?” I rack my brain over everything I did that night, praying it wasn’t anything embarrassing. I talked plenty of shit about him to Ellie. If there was audio, there’s no doubt he heard me.

  “I wanted to make sure you didn’t rob me.”

  “Sadly, I didn’t find any money.”

  “Good. That means my hiding places are legit.”

  “Your condom hiding places are trash.”

  “Not wanting to stash them in places I have to search out to find.” He chuckles. “I also saw you stole a few for yourself.”

  “Just in case.”

  He finally glances over at me. “You’re trouble, Jailbait—a pageant princess with a crooked crown and leather jacket.”

  I grin. “I’m surprised you’re just figuring that out.”

  Three

  Sierra

  Age Twenty-One

  I walk into Down Home Pub, a smile filled with confidence and determination on my face.

  It feels almost like home—a home I’ve never exactly been welcomed in.

  Call me the unwanted stepchild of Down Home Pub.

  Except, now, this rejected stepchild has the upper hand.

  A group of sorority girls who aren’t excited to spend their night in a hole-in-the-wall bar are behind me. Not only is the pub an hour from the city, but there’s also no expensive DJ, VIP section, or bottle service.

  I laugh to myself while picturing the look on Maliki’s face if someone requested a VIP section. He’d probably throw them out faster than he tried me.

  I pause to give the bar a once-over. It’s the first time I’ve had the chance to look around since I always ducked and hid before. There’s a long wood bar with beer taps at the rear of the room. Behind the bar is a shelved brick wall. Liquor bottles fill the top shelf, and glasses of various sizes line the bottom. People are huddled around pub tables cluttered with food and drinks. The small space looks near capacity.

  Finally.

  I’m the winner in this game.

  No booting me tonight.

  I’m ready for an evening loaded with drinking and smugly throwing my age in Maliki’s face.

  The best fucking birthday ever.

  I find the pain-in-my-ass bartender in seconds and beeline toward the side of the bar he’s manning, excitement shooting through me. There’s a crowd waiting to be served around him. I ignore the dirty looks I receive when cutting my way to the front of the line.

  I mutter, “Birthday girl,” a few times, but their glares don’t lessen.

  I need a stiff drink after listening to my friends whine about coming here. I tuned them out, wondering what he’d do when he saw me.

  No doubt he’ll ask for my ID. I plan to throw it at him and prove I’m a big girl now. No more Jailbait, Pageant Queen, Teenager mocking.

  I admire the sight of him before he notices me, and if I saw myself in the mirror, there’d be lust flickering in my green eyes. I lick my lips. His hair has grown out since I saw him last, and the expanse of his chest looks wider. His olive skin is still as smooth, and I’m tempted to ask him for his skincare routine. A backward baseball hat covers his hair, he’s wearing his signature bar tee, and his cheeks are still sporting light stubble.

  He blinks a few times when his attention cuts to me and meanders my way in no rush.

  Huh. I expected him to bombard me with an ID demand.

  “I’ll have a vodka tonic, please,” I order when he reaches me.

  His mood is unreadable. “Sorry, did you say an organic juice box?”

  “Fine, give me an organic juice with a shot of vodka.”

  “I’ll need to see a legit ID for that. A real one.”

  I crack a smile on my matte red lips and raise my arm, holding the ID between two fingers.

  He raises an eyebrow, his lips tilting into a sliver of a smirk, and takes it from me. That smirk grows as he inspects it. “Motherfucking finally.”

  Pride rocks through me. I open my mouth to answer but am shoved into the bar.

  “Hot bartender!” Louise, a sorority sister, yells, interrupting us. “I need shots and then more shots after that. You ever heard of Buttery Nipples?”

  I stifle a laugh and shoot Louise a dirty look. This is so not a Buttery Nipple place, Louise.

  “Heard of them? Yes. Made them? Fuck no,” Maliki replies.

  “Body shots then?” Louise fires back with a pout of her lower lip. “I promise to let you do one off me.”

  Hell no. Not on my watch.

  Chick isn’t coming anywhere near my Maliki.

  I shove Louise’s shoulder. “Go away. You’re embarrassing yourself.”

  “What?” she draws out in a whiny voice. “Dude is hot.” She clicks her tongue and points to him while backing away. “Buttery Nipples!”

  Maliki shakes his head, clearly not offended. He’s probably used to attention like this.

  He sweeps his gaze over me, inching forward and settling his palms on the bar in front of me. “What can I get you, birthday girl?”

  “Surprise me, but don’t make it a Buttery Nipple.”

  “I’ll make you something better than that or anything you’ve ever had.” He smirks, pushes himself back, and turns on his heel.

  “Seriously—I’ll say it louder for the sorority girls in the back—you two have a thing for each other,” Ellie says next to me.

  I didn’t even notice her presence. Call it the Maliki Effect. Everything around me fades away when he’s around.

  “Whatever,” I mutter, rolling my eyes.

  She clips her black strands behind her ear. “Ask him to take you to the office you’ve hung out in so many times. Tell him how excited you’ve been to see him like you’ve told me all fucking month long.”

  “I was excited to turn twenty-one and finally show him up.”

  “Yeah, okay,” she replies sarcastically, bumping her hip against mine. “I won’t interrupt your flirt-fest, and if any of these sorority girls try to sink their claws in him, I’ll trip a bitch. Get your flirt on, girlfriend.”

  With that, she walks away.

  Ellie attends Iowa State with me but called me batshit crazy when I suggested she join my sorority. Joining was a requirement for me. Luckily for her, her parents are more easy going than mine and not obsessed with their image.

  I glance back to Maliki.


  He pops a black straw into a glass, adds an orange slice garnish, and drops it in front of me. “Legal looks good on you, Princess.”

  The short red dress and strappy nude heels I’m wearing don’t fit into the relaxed atmosphere, but I don’t care. I wanted to look sexy tonight … for him.

  I tap my nails against the beat-up bar. “I warned you I’d come on my twenty-first. It was necessary for me to fulfill that promise and throw it in your face.”

  “I thought you’d come back to rob me of condoms again.” He tilts his head to the side and studies me. “We’ve never shared a conversation this calm here.”

  I laugh. “I know! I might find out you’re as fun as people say.”

  He stands taller and slightly parts his lips. “Oh, trust me, I’m plenty of fun.”

  “Nothing I’ve received from you screams fun, so that needs to be proven to me.” I stir my drink, take a sip, and moan when pulling away. “Holy shit. This is delicious. What’s in it?”

  He raises his chin. “None of your business.”

  “You can’t not tell me what’s in my drink. Isn’t that against bartender code of conduct?”

  “Alcohol. There’s alcohol in it.”

  “You’re one of those bartenders.” I take another drink and swish it around in my mouth. “Whiskey.” Another sip. “Southern Comfort?”

  He stares at me, unblinking.

  “Seriously?” I curl my lips around the straw, our eye contact steady, and take another sip. “Definitely SoCo and orange juice.”

  He slightly nods while grinning. “A girl knows her whiskey.”

  “A girl knows her whiskey.” I take another drink and raise a brow. “Gin?”

  “Possibly.”

  “Definitely gin. What else am I missing?”

  “If I told you, I’d have to kill you.”

  “Oh God, never say that around me again. Your age is showing. My father says that.”

  He throws out his arms. “Hey, everyone fucking says that!”

  I hold my glass in the air. “Keep these bad boys coming, bartender. By the end of the night, I’ll figure out the entire ingredient list. Maybe I’ll even throw in some tips to make it better.”