“Full-on creeper would have been jacking myself off with them and then putting them back in your panty drawer. The only full-on I can be accused of is being a splendid roommate for going out of my way to do your laundry.”
“You’re disgusting.” I marched for my “room,” another flush of heat shooting through me when I noticed the folded piles of clean clothes sitting on the plastic rolling drawers I used as a dresser. A stack of folded panties was sitting on top. Crap. That assortment made me look like I was a call girl.
“I probably shouldn’t ask this, but my curiosity will not be silenced”—I was already bracing myself for his question—“but isn’t that uncomfortable? Wearing underwear that rides up your butt crack like that?”
Shoot me. Just shoot me. “What? Like it’s comfortable having your junk stuffed in a plastic triangle?”
Silence. For a second. “So is that your way of saying thongs are or aren’t comfortable?”
“That’s my way of saying I’m not talking about my underwear with you.”
When I started putting my clean clothes away, I realized I was shaking. I wasn’t sure why. Soren was like my brother in a way—what did it matter that he’d seen my underwear and was asking a few dumb questions about them? Soren was not like my brother in one rather large way though—the thoughts and feelings I had for him at times. No sister should be wondering what the rest of her brother looked like beneath that towel. No sister would be feeling tingles, in more than one place, when her brother grazed by her.
Soren may have looked after me like a brother, but the ways I wanted to look after him were not sisterly in the slightest.
I needed space. To clear my head. With a shortage of doors that actually closed in this apartment, the bathroom was my only option since it was “night” according to Soren’s rules. Too late to be out walking the streets by myself.
“I’m taking a shower,” I announced, already heading that direction.
“You might want to wait on that for a while. Unless you feel the need for a cold shower.”
“Why would I feel the need for a cold shower?”
Soren gave me a funny look. Probably because I sounded defensive after he’d mentioned a cold shower. “I’m not saying you need a cold shower. I’m saying if you want a hot one, you’re going to have to wait.”
“Why?” I asked, right before it clicked. “Because you took a thirty-minute shower and used all of the hot water that struggles to make it up to the sixth floor.”
He stepped behind his partition, and the towel flew over the top a moment later. “Sorry. If I’d known you wanted to shower tonight, I could have quickened things up.”
The way he said it, like he had some checklist to go through, made me pause. “Quickened things up?” I waited, but he was quiet. “Why do you take such long showers anyway?”
“I have to shampoo my hair.”
My forehead creased as I stuffed my clean underwear into the back of a drawer. “You have, like, a tenth of the hair I do. You don’t have to shave your legs or armpits or anything else. What could you be doing in there that takes so long . . . oh.” My eyes widened as another thought cross my mind. “OH.”
“Not a lot of privacy out here. The bathroom door is the only one that closes and locks.”
My head dropped against the plastic storage bin as I squeezed my eyes closed. “Great. Now I’m going to have to bleach the thing before I step foot in it each time. And wear flip-flops.” The harder I tried to erase the mental images from my head, the more vivid they became.
“Stop acting so appalled.” Soren’s footsteps moved out from behind his divider. “Where do you do your business?”
“What business?”
“Your self-love business?” he said, padding into the kitchen.
“I don’t masturbate.” My hand moved toward my nose. I was half surprised it wasn’t growing.
“Why not?” The sound of the fridge door whined open. “Yourself doesn’t like yourself enough to let her get close?”
“Or maybe you spend so much time with yourself because you’re the only one who can stand being close to yourself.” I was banging my head against the storage bin now. What kind of conversation was I having?
“Positive endorphins. Just sayin’. Would do you some good.”
Sticking my head out from behind the divider, I aimed a glare in his direction. “Excuse me? Is that your way of saying I’m a bitch?”
“What? Jesus, no.” He was rummaging through the same scant fridge I’d just been searching for something appetizing in. “Get those panties untwisted before you open your mouth to bite my head off next time.” The fridge door slammed shut. “Oh yeah, you can’t untwist them, they’re already riding up your butt.”
“I never knew how much I loved sports until today.” Jane was staring at the diamond with a grin.
Ariel rolled her eyes. “You hate sports.”
“Yeah, but that was before I’d been to this kind of sport, where the guys are hot and wear tight white pants. What’s not to like about that?” Her hand circled the air in the direction of one of the back-up pitchers warming up in front of us. Then she made a squeezing motion.
“I do like to watch them wrap their hands around their big, hard sticks,” Ariel added with a shrug.
Jane nudged her. “And the way they play with their balls.”
The two shared a giggle while I focused on keeping my attention on the game as a whole, instead of the one component I’d been focused on since the three of us arrived at the start of the game. I was in the same boat as Jane—I’d never realized I liked sports until today. It had little to do with the actual game and everything to do with a certain someone with the number twenty-three stamped on the back of his jersey. Watching Soren play baseball . . . did things to my mind and my body I wasn’t eager to acknowledge.
Things were complicated enough between us without adding physical exertion and tight white pants to the mix. He was good. Stand-out good. I didn’t need to know the ins and outs of the sport to recognize that. When he was up at bat, he hit the ball. Far. When he was crouched behind the plate, playing catcher, he caught the ball, tagged incoming runners, and threw the darn thing so hard I could hear the smack it made when it landed in his fellow players’ mitts.
Every time he jogged off the field, before dropping into the dugout, he aimed a smile at me. Every time he emerged from the dugout, same story. I wasn’t sure how many more times I could shift in my seat without looking like I had an acute case of hemorrhoids.
And what was I doing thinking about hemorrhoids? I’d clearly been spending too much time around Soren Decker, the one person on the planet who had no boundaries—when it came to anything really. From confessing to his female roommate that he jerked off in the shower, to fanning the air in my direction after he farted, he had no boundaries. I felt like I knew everything there was to like and not like about him.
So why did I find myself still warring with feelings for him? The sensation of being drawn to him, inexplicable as it was?
“Your roommate is off-the-charts hot, Hayden.” Jane grinned at home plate, where Soren was squatting, holding his mitt at the ready. “Please tell me you’ve hit that already.”
“It’s what puts the spring in her cat walk,” Ariel sang as I groaned.
“Come on though. Be real with us.” Jane’s head turned my way. “You’re getting a piece of that action, right?”
My eyes moved to the diamond. “No. He’s my roommate.”
“Is he gay?”
“Yeah, right. Have you seen the way he dresses? The state he keeps the apartment in? No. He’s not gay.” That would make things easier though.
“Are you?” Ariel’s gaze roamed me, her forehead creasing.
“No.” That would also make things easier.
“Does he have a girlfriend?”
“No.”
My instant response had them glancing at each other with raised eyebrows.
“And you d
on’t have a boyfriend . . .” Jane continued.
Soren was shifting around behind the plate, distracting me and making me do some shifting on my own. “What? So because we’re both straight, single, and sharing a space, we should be getting it on?”
Jane blinked at me a couple of times, her hand turning over. “Exactly. It’s not like you have to make it anything official or hold hands down the sidewalk. You two are young and in your sexual prime. You need to exercise more than just your heart to stay healthy and happy.”
Ariel leaned in like she was going to whisper something. It didn’t come out a whisper though. “That’s her way of saying you need to exercise your vagina more.”
“Yeah, got it.”
I glanced over my shoulder to make sure no small children were close by. Just a couple of older guys with small smiles, pretending to focus on the game.
“No need to start dropping an anatomy lesson on the entire stadium,” I hissed.
“There’s only one possible reason you two aren’t boning then,” Jane said.
“The fact that we’re roommates and that’s complicated enough?”
Her finger waved between Soren on the field and me in the seat beside her. “That you have feelings for each other that go beyond routine boning.”
The guys behind us were smiling wider when I checked this time.
“Yeah, I have feelings for him,” I said under my breath. “Ones that stem from annoyance and disgust.”
Ariel and Jane stared at me, their expressions needing no explanation.
“We’re here to watch a game. Let’s watch the game.” My arms flailed out at the field before I dug into the bag of kettle corn Jane had stuffed between her legs.
“I’m here to admire fine asses. But you feel free to watch the ‘game.’” Jane cleared her throat dramatically. “Or Soren Decker’s package bulging through those teeny-weeny white pants.”
Ariel leaned into Jane, jabbing her finger Soren’s way. “Except that bulge is not teeny-weeny.”
“Not the slightest bit teeny-weeny.” Jane’s eyebrows bounced as she popped a piece of popcorn in her mouth. “That weeny’s a hugey-hugey.”
“That’s it. I refuse to sit beside you two until you tone your hormones down to a public-setting level of appropriate.”
The moment I burst to my feet, Jane grabbed my arm and yanked me back down. “They’re leaving the field. You wouldn’t want Soren the Huge to start asking questions as to why you’re so flushed.” Jane patted my cheek I could feel heating.
“He’s wearing a cup, you know? That’s not his actual”—I leaned in so I didn’t have to say it out loud—“package.”
“Yeah, and the only reason a guy wears a giant cup is because he’s packing a giant cock.” Jane covered her mouth before I had the chance to do it for her. “I mean penis. Sorry. That was too far for a public setting.” She shot an apologetic look at the grinning guys behind us. They didn’t seem to mind.
“Hey, Jumbo!” Ariel hollered as Soren jogged closer.
He turned toward the fence, sliding off his catcher’s mask. “Did you just call me Dumbo?”
Ariel’s head shook. “Jumbo.”
When Soren’s brows came together, I reached behind Jane to smack Ariel. “Don’t ask,” I yelled at him, pointing at the dugout where the rest of his team was heading.
He moved a few steps toward the fence instead. “A few of the guys on the team are having a party tonight at their place. Want to come?”
Soren’s face was streaked with sweat and dust, and his uneven smile was making my throat go dry. I shouldn’t have feelings for my roommate. I couldn’t. But the thing about feelings was that they couldn’t be controlled—nothing that came from the heart could be controlled. The head was a different matter.
“She’d love to come. And so would her friends,” Jane answered for me.
“Are you going?” I asked, finding my voice.
Soren tucked his mitt under his arm. “It depends.”
“Depends on what?”
“Your answer.” He moved closer until he stopped against the fence.
I could smell the sweat clinging to him. It felt like it was drawing me nearer instead of repulsing me as it should.
“Yes,” Jane filled in for me again. “Her answer is yes.”
Soren winked as he shoved away from the fence. “Same here.”
The three of us watched him turn and jog away. It was one of the rare moments there was actual silence when we were all together.
“Since you don’t seem to be in a hurry to stake your claim, I’m staking mine.” Ariel raised her hand like she was bidding at some auction.
“That choice specimen can claim me with his stake whenever he wants,” Jane said.
I settled back onto the bench and tried to chase away the strange new feeling I was experiencing while watching them gawk at Soren. “You two need to get your libidos under control.”
“And you need to let your libido get out of control,” Jane fired back, aiming a piece of kettle corn at my head.
“So partying with a bunch of ball players tonight.” Ariel shimmied as she took her seat again. “I’m not used to athletes. I spend more time around male models and photographers. Got any advice for us?”
Soren reemerged from the dugout, sliding on a batting helmet before taking a few warm-up swings. Another odd feeling rolled over me. Possession.
“Yeah,” I said. “Stay away from my roommate.”
Great. Missed called number twelve was coming in. My texts must not have been enough for him—he wanted to talk. I would have answered this one except I was almost to the address he’d texted me after the game. If he wanted to talk, I was fifty feet away from being face to face.
Also, great—judging from how quiet the sidewalks were in this part of Brooklyn, it was more night than it was dark. He was going to go all overprotective, big brother on me, and my patience was running on fumes.
Ellis had called me sometime in the sixth inning, informing me I needed to come in for a “quick” photo shoot. He’d caught word that one of the big Italian designers was shopping for a new face for their black label line. Ellis seemed to think my face was exactly what they were looking for, and he wanted to add a few more simple, European-type shots to my portfolio. I wasn’t sure why that couldn’t wait until Monday morning, but Ellis made it seem like it was make or break.
Like most things in this industry, it took longer than I’d expected and it was now pushing eleven. I’d wanted to go back to the apartment and crash, but I’d promised Soren I’d come tonight and that seemed important to him for some reason. Plus, Jane and Ariel were here and I had to make sure they didn’t get into too much trouble because, yeah. If trouble was lurking in the bottom of some puddle five blocks over, they’d find it.
This was an older part of the city from the looks of it, and all I had to do was follow the echo of music and laughter to find the right place. It was a chilly, early spring night, so everyone was stuffed inside the small house, but I noticed a shadow move beneath the porch when I passed through the opening in the fence.
“Please don’t tell me you walked all the way here from the subway station. Please tell me you took a cab.” Soren moved down the walkway to meet me, his face drawn up.
“Okay. I took a cab.” I stopped when we were a few steps from each other.
“Really?”
“No, I walked from the subway.”
“Hayden,” he sighed, thrusting his arms toward the street behind me. “I told you to call me when you were done at work so I could come meet you. Do you remember anything I told you about walking alone at night?”
“I do, but here’s the thing—what makes you think I’m safer if I’m surrounded by people versus nobody? Isn’t that counterintuitive?” I crossed my arms, staring at him. “If there’s no one around to do whatever harm you think I’m in danger of, doesn’t that make me safer than being caught in a swarm of bodies marching down the sidewalks?”
>
His jaw moved, probably from holding himself back. Soren and I were naturals when it came to bickering and pushing each other’s buttons. We weren’t afraid to challenge each other or call the other out, but he’d been learning impulse control where I seemed to be loosening mine.
“The people who hurt others don’t march down sidewalks. They hide in the shadows. You don’t see them until they’re on you, so next time, save me the heart attack and call me so I can come meet you. Got it?”
The warming in my veins started again. It was a familiar sensation when Soren was around. Brought on by usually anger or annoyance, it was also spurred by emotions I was less eager to admit to. This latest episode was probably a combination of a lot of things.
He was wearing a clean jersey hanging untucked over a dark pair of jeans. He had on his standard Converse and backward red ball cap. Even outside and a body length apart, I could smell the hint of his favorite soap on him. I could make out the light splash of cologne he must have put on for tonight. It was tempting me closer, but I needed to keep as much distance from Soren as possible.
“This is a party, right?”
His hands slid into his pockets as he shrugged. “So I’ve heard. I’ve been a little busy trying to look after my roommate.”
“It’s not your job to look after me. I’m a big girl.” Moving around him, I started for the house.
His footsteps followed after me. “Then stop acting like a child and prove it.”
“You first,” I snapped, pulling the door open and stepping inside before we could go any deeper into this heated topic.
Compared to outside, the packed house was sweltering. Bodies were everywhere—pressed into furniture, walls, each other. The space had easily exceeded its fire code maximum by a hundred bodies. I noticed Jane and Ariel toward the back of the living room, which was serving as a dance floor tonight. They were in the middle of a handful of guys wearing the same kind of jersey Soren wore, so they looked happy. Jane had said she wasn’t going home tonight until she’d cured her curiosity regarding baseball players’ supposed reputation of being good in bed. She claimed they knew they had to hit every base before thrusting for home plate, and that was where I’d tuned out.