Rebound Roommate Page 8

  “What else?”

  “Then she asked for more.” Mira shakes her head. “Honestly, I don’t know how my mom pays her bills. She never works. I kept giving her money, but I started coming up short each month. One month I couldn’t pay my rent. I borrowed from a place in town. I paid the money back with my next paycheck.”

  She glances down and tucks a loose strand of hair that escaped her ponytail behind her ear. “I told my mom I couldn’t help her anymore after that.”

  I hold my breath, waiting for what’s to come, because my gut tells me this gets worse.

  Mira looks straight at me, her expression unguarded, despite the steel she tries to exude. “I didn’t hear from her for two months. After a few weeks I started to worry. I searched for her and when I found her…She had a broken arm, a black eye…She wouldn’t talk to me. She blamed me for what had happened.”

  Mira plays with the frayed edge of her jean shorts, her next breath shaky. “I didn’t know whether or not she got hurt over the money, but I couldn’t risk it again. I told her that if she needed cash, I had some saved, which I didn’t.” She looks up as if to convince me. “I had a job and no one depending on me. I thought I could handle it, but I got more behind. Eventually, I asked my mom to seek help. She’s had a cocaine problem on and off. I figured that’s where the money was going. I gave her pamphlets for places that provide support, but she wouldn’t take them. She refused to get help. I didn’t know what else to do.”

  “A cocaine problem on and off,” I say, disbelieving this shit.

  Mira’s mother—the drug addict—uses Mira, and Mira is desperate for her mother’s love. Of course Mira feels she can’t say no.

  I shift my jaw, attempt to tamp down my anger. I pull at the collar of my shirt and sit back, staring at the wall. I want to rail on her mom’s ass for using her daughter. Instead, I say, “Lewis told me you’re seeing a shrink.”

  Her eyes grow dark. “I’m not crazy, Tyler.”

  “I didn’t say you’re crazy.” And she isn’t. Mira just has too much on her shoulders. Addicts are heavy burdens. My mom worked in the casinos for decades. I’ve seen her lose friends to drug and alcohol addictions. She put the fear of God into me and Cali, warning us not to get mixed up in that shit.

  “You can’t help your mom if she’s still using, Mira. You need someone to talk some sense into you.”

  Her eyes widen, her face turning red.

  Okay, that might not have come out right.

  “Screw you, Tyler.”

  Fuck, why do I bother trying to help her? “You already did.”

  She turns away. “Will you never forget that night?”

  I don’t know why I brought it up. It’s a jerk move. A part of me must still be pissed, which I don’t like to admit. “Can you?”

  “No,” she says, surprising me.

  Her arms loosen and she looks at me. “I know my mom is a problem. Lewis has told me for years to sever the tie. I couldn’t do it then. I still can’t imagine it. She’s the only family I have.”

  “You have Lewis and his parents.”

  “But they’re not real family. They don’t have to love me.”

  “No. They love you because they want to.”

  Mira stares at me for a long moment, as if she actually heard me. Shocking.

  “I’m trying, Tyler,” she says. “I’m not giving her money anymore, no matter what happens, okay? Even if she won’t talk to me. Or if…” Her chest rises shakily on an inhale. “When those men found me in the woods, it was supposed to be my last drop-off. I was going to tell her I couldn’t do it anymore, but then…”

  “Those assholes kicked the shit out of you over the money you owe for your mother.”

  Her mouth twists in a frown. “I’m clear on the details. You don’t need to remind me. I know how bad things are. I’m finished with it all. In fact”—she sits forward, hesitancy in her eyes—“I’m getting a new job. Two if I can swing it. I’ll work day and night to pay off my debt. I already sent out job applications, and I have a good lead at Blue.”

  My shoulders tense. The fuck?

  “Blue Casino? The place that fired my sister? The place where Gen was nearly raped? Are you fucking crazy, Mira?”

  Annoyance fires behind her gaze. “I can’t be picky, can I? It’s a position as an assistant to a director. Kind of a long shot, but it pays well. If I work nights as a dealer and days as an assistant at Blue, I’ll be able to save a ton of money over the next couple of months.”

  I hate the idea that she applied for a job at Blue. That’s like jumping out of the frying pan and into the fire. “You can’t work at Blue. That place is bad news.”

  “This is an executive position. It’s not on the floor. Nothing will happen up there. Besides, I doubt I’ll even get the job.”

  I shake my head, not paying attention to her logic or illogic. “No. Not there.”

  “You can’t tell me what to do, Tyler!” She leaps to her feet, one hand supporting her ribcage for a second before planting on her hip, as if her ire won’t be deterred by the beating she’s still recovering from. “I told you because you were being a pain in the ass about everything and snooping around. Now I wish I hadn’t. I should have known I couldn’t trust you.”

  She can’t trust me? I stand and march across the room to the counter, grabbing my wallet and keys. I climb a couple of rungs of the loft staircase, jerk a short-sleeved button-down off the floor, and slip it on over my T-shirt.

  “You wanna be on your own? Fine. I’m outta here.”

  Chapter Eleven

  I order another beer from the waitress at Avalanche, while my buddy Phil curls a slice of pizza in half and shoves a good majority of it in his mouth.

  “You’re living with a chick?” he mumbles over the food.

  I glance around the crowded pizza joint, hopping with locals getting their drink on, and search out our waitress. It’s only been thirty seconds since I ordered, but I need that second beer.

  Mira has to leave. That, or we’re going to kill each other. Which means I need to find her another living situation. All my local buddies have suddenly shacked up with their girlfriends. My options are limited, but Mira’s aren’t. She could live with Lewis’s parents, where she grew up. She’s just choosing to be stubborn.

  Because she is a pain in my ass.

  “I gotta get her out, man. Can’t live with that girl. You don’t know what she’s like.”

  “Didn’t you say she was beautiful?”

  Did I mention that? Dammit.

  Phil raises his eyebrows, and I pluck at the front of my T-shirt. Is it hot in here? “That’s not the point.”

  Phil takes a gulp of beer and wipes his hands on the thin napkins. “Best way to get rid of a woman is to find another.”

  “I don’t need another woman,” I grumble. “I need the one who’s contaminating my hideaway to get out.”

  “No, I know, man. That’s what I’m saying. Bring another chick around. This girl, Mira, she’ll get pissed and take off.”

  Oh, fucking hell. Why did I bother telling my old high-school buddy the situation? Phil’s an amazing mountain biker, but he isn’t the sharpest tool in the shed.

  “It’s not like that. She won’t get jealous. She’s not into me,” I say, biting off my words. There was a time when Mira was into me and I didn’t realize it, until I was practically inside her.

  I shake my head. This isn’t the same.

  Phil swigs his pint, studying me. “Doesn’t matter, man. We’re all animals when it comes down to it. She’ll get territorial. Men duke it out until they land on top.” He snickers at his joke. “Women, though—dude, they’re manipulative and vocal. They yell and stomp until you cower. Don’t cower. Whatever you do, remain on top. Bring other women around. Mira will get the picture. She’ll realize she’s lost her territory and either take off, or stay away from the house as much as she can.”

  Jesus, I’m being lectured about biology by my local buddy,
who never left Lake Tahoe. The worst part is, some of this crap makes sense.

  “You’re missing the point, Phil. I don’t want to live with Mira. If she gets pissed and stays away from the house, she’s still under the same roof. And how is replacing Mira with some other nameless girl a solution? I’m not like you and the rest of our friends. I don’t want to live with a woman—well, my sister is different. You know what I mean.”

  Phil holds up his hands. “Hey, I’m the idea man. You got a problem with performance, that’s your problem.”

  The attractive blond waitress takes that moment to set my pint on the table, her mouth twitching as she clears a glass. I shake my head her way, as if to say, Don’t listen to this jackass.

  The waitress leaves, and I lean toward Phil. “You want to keep your voice down. I don’t have a problem getting it up. Where the hell did you get that idea?”

  Phil shrugs. “You said this girl, Mira, cut off your balls.”

  Does he remember everything I say? Clearly I’ve been talking out of my ass. “I meant figuratively. Believe me, getting it up isn’t the issue. Everything’s on high alert. That’s part of the problem,” I mumble.

  “Oh, hoo.” Phil slaps his hand on the table and leans back in his chair. “So we get to the bottom of it. You want her and she doesn’t want you, so you don’t want to live with her.”

  “What? No. That’s not it at all.” Dammit, is that it? “The point is we are completely incompatible—”

  “Seems one of you is compatible.” He glances at my lap.

  I stop in mid-speech, staring incredulously at my jackass friend.

  First of all—dude, why is my buddy checking out my balls? Second, he may be right. It causes me no small amount of agitation that I still have a physical attraction to Mira. Puts me in a downright fucked-up mood.

  This conversation is giving me a headache. Somehow Phil’s suggestion is sounding more and more tempting.

  I scan the surroundings. Avalanche Pizza is a major hangout. Girls come here in their short shorts and flip-flops, wearing skintight tanks and full makeup. It’s a casual pickup joint is what it is. Why not scope someone out and bring her home tonight—test Phil’s theory? It couldn’t hurt. His idea is dodgy at best, but under the circumstances I can make an exception.

  I swig the last of my second pint. I haven’t had a hookup in a while, but it might be just what I need.

  Lacy trips over the threshold. “Oops,” she whispers loudly in my ear.

  “Easy, girl. Why don’t we sit you on the couch?”

  When I picked up my and Phil’s waitress at Avalanche Pizza, I thought she’d be fun. Hot body, pretty face, sweet demeanor—an all-around ringer for a good time.

  The only problem? Lacy is a lush.

  As soon as her shift ended at eleven, she started pounding pints. Phil had a tough time keeping up. I gave up entirely. Someone had to drive us home.

  Lacy was so smashed by the time we left, I decided to take her to my place and get her sober. Hooking up wasn’t on my mind. Trashed girls don’t do it for me, but that doesn’t mean I leave them to their own devices. Not when I covered the bill for her drinks. I’m partly responsible.

  I guide her to the couch and she sinks like a rag doll.

  This is a disaster. I should never have listened to Phil. “I’ll get you a glass of water.”

  “Beer?” she slurs.

  I have it in the fridge, not that Lacy will see any. “Sorry, I’m all out.”

  I bring her the water and sit next to her. She rolls into me, and for a moment, I don’t mind. It’s been a while since I held a girl. I’d forgotten how nice it is.

  I wrap my arm around her shoulders and she slips her hand up my shirt, caressing my stomach and chest. I’m okay with the easy touching—still not into the drunk hookup, though.

  “Lacy, we should think about getting you home once you’ve had a couple of glasses of water. Is there anyone there? A roommate, maybe?”

  I don’t feel comfortable dropping her off by herself in this condition.

  “Nope. Want to come over? I bought a new mattress. It’s massive.” She nips my chin with her teeth. “We can do all sorts of fun things on it.”

  “Ah, no. I was thinking of crashing. I’m pretty tired.”

  The corners of her mouth turn down. “Oh.”

  The next thing I know, Lacy’s lips are on mine, and she’s reaching for the snap of my jeans. The kiss isn’t bad, considering how trashed she is, but it also makes me feel…nothing.

  Not one spark. But even if my mind doesn’t do drunk girls, my body has never had a problem reacting to them.

  Until tonight.

  I’ve got a hot chick reaching for my junk, and there’s no response from my better half. I actually wish this girl would pass out so I don’t have to deal with the situation. Which is insane. What is happening to me?

  The sound of the doorknob jiggling grabs my attention, but Lacy’s still got an arm lock around my neck, her tongue down my throat. The door opens before I can untangle us.

  Mira walks in and freezes, her keys dangling from her hand. Her gaze goes straight to where Lacy is palming me. Close quarters inside my sister’s place. The couch is only a few feet from the front door.

  Lacy finally notices someone has entered, and comes up for air, giving me back my mouth.

  “Hey,” I say to Mira. Might as well milk the situation. This was my plan, after all.

  Lacy shows some modesty and pulls her hand from my pants, sitting upright, or as upright as she can while weaving from a heavy buzz.

  Mira’s mouth tenses. She strides past us into the kitchen, flipping on the lights. She slams cabinet doors as though she’s looking for something, or wants to make a lot of noise.

  “Is that your girlfriend?” Lacy whispers loudly.

  “Roommate.”

  “Oh.” She smiles. “Good.” She glances around as if only now taking in how small the place is. “Is there anywhere we can go?”

  I consider the loft, just to get out of the line of fire, but I don’t think Drunk Lacy will make it up the ladder. And I’m not sure I want to find out what Lacy has in mind. I don’t like turning girls down. They tend to get more aggressive, as Lacy exhibited before Mira’s entrance.

  At the same time, a part of me wants to continue testing this theory of Phil’s. For a moment there, I got the sense Mira wasn’t simply pissed to see me, but pissed to see me with another woman. And that shows promise. If she thinks running into this sort of thing is what she has in store living with me, maybe she’ll suck it up and move home to Lewis’s parents’ place.

  “It’s pretty tight in here,” I tell Lacy. “We’re stuck on the couch. My roommate will probably go in her room soon anyway.”

  Her face twists in a flirty pout.

  I play with Lacy’s hair as Mira stomps into the bathroom. A few minutes later, she sweeps past us, slamming the bedroom door behind her.

  “Damn,” Lacy says. “You sure she’s not your girlfriend?”

  “Completely.” I lean in for another kiss.

  I’m suddenly optimistic about having Lacy stay the night. Still not going to sleep with her, but I wouldn’t mind holding her and kissing her. I miss that. And because there’s no spark, I have zero need to worry about the repercussions of this relationship.

  Chapter Twelve

  Mira

  I rub the sleep from my eyes, squinting at the sun glowing through the cheap curtains of Cali’s bedroom window. I can’t believe Tyler. Asshole. That girl was unfastening his pants. Pretty obvious what I walked in on last night.

  I flip over and punch my pillow to fluff it up.

  Okay, I just want to hit something.

  He couldn’t find someplace else to take his hookup? I could have come home at any point during their little interlude. You don’t do that shit with a roommate around. It’s an issue of respect.

  I swear he brought that girl back just to piss me off. I never should have told Tyler wha
t was up with my mom. Had I left him guessing, he probably wouldn’t have bugged me about the job stuff. We might not have fought.

  He looked like he expected me to walk in on them—like he planned it. I might be reading into things, but he could have at least stayed at her place instead of bringing her here.

  But even that thought bothers me. Arghh.

  I tilt my ear toward the door. No noise filters in from the living room. It’s early—seven, maybe. Tyler is probably still asleep. I rest my chin on top of my pillow above my folded hands and stare at the clock.

  One, two, three minutes tick by.

  If Tyler is going to be an inconsiderate jerk, why should I be a courteous roommate? I’ll go mad if I stay in here all morning, waiting for his date to leave.

  I grin. I’m willing to bet that I’ve had more experience at being a bitch than he has at being a jerk.

  I leap out of bed and throw on slipper socks, jerking my hair into a ponytail. Tyler wants to bring a girl home and make out on our couch? Fine. But he’ll have to deal with his early-rising roommate.

  I open the bedroom door and saunter into the living room. And my stomach sinks, all thoughts of retribution fleeing.

  Tyler is on the couch, the girl he was with last night half lying on top of him. He has his arms wrapped around her waist, her head tucked beneath his chin. They’re sleeping, his handsome face tipped back onto the armrest, looking boyish and sweet.

  Fortunately, they’re dressed; otherwise I would have to kill him. The thought of Tyler naked with another girl—I won’t even go there. Seeing him like this leaves me in enough pain. He left town. I wasn’t supposed to be subjected to this sort of thing.

  Damn him. I glance away and swallow the knot in my throat. Tyler with another girl stabs me in a place I never feel pain. It’s deep, shadowed, and protected so well that not even the shit my mom pulls penetrates. But Tyler manages to spear the spot in one shot with his insensitivity. Because I want to be the girl wrapped in his arms.