Rebel Roommate

Chapter 6: Paige

Riley cleared his throat and hefted one of my suitcases onto the bed. "Is it still Christopher Pike and R.L. Stine?"

"Uh, no. My reading tastes have matured some." I smiled down at the suitcase, my fingers itching to tear - I mean gently open - the books and give them a good long sniff. "I've moved on to books with half-naked men on the covers who carry a loaded weapon. Sometimes wearing a kilt. Sometimes...not."

He slid me a playful grin. "So, book porn?"

I smacked him lightly in the ribs, laughing, and it didn't go unnoticed that my hand had just bounced back from a solid wall of muscle. Between his busy schedule, he must work out. A lot.

"No," I said. "Romantic suspense, and yes, there is a difference. And don't judge because I know all about disposing bodies so they'll never be found."

Riley stepped closer into the sunlight and held up his hands in defeat. The rays threw sharper angles onto his face and highlighted the faint whiskers along his jaw. He'd grown up to be handsome, just like his dad, but even when I was surrounded by the gushing girls at school, I always wondered why I wasn't attracted to him the same way they were. He was a catch, sure, but he didn't inspire a searing ache like...like no one.

"No judging, Sullivan," Riley said, then folded me into another hug.

He felt good, cool and warm at the same time, and smelled like lemony wood and coffee.

"It's too good to see you again to be judgmental," he said, his breath sliding across my temple.

"It's good to see you, too."

He squeezed harder, sliding his hands farther down, and pressed a lingering kiss to my hairline. I frowned at the show of affection. Our friendship had never gone past simple elbow jabs and kicking feet underneath the dinner table. This felt peculiar, like we were crossing a straight, orderly line that I was perfectly content to stand behind.

Someone cleared their throat loudly in the doorway. I tried to pull away from Riley, but he held fast, his eyes narrowed and aimed over my shoulder. The air sizzled with thick silence and a tension that skittered up my back. With my palms against Riley's chest, I pushed myself away and turned to see Sam, whose bright blue gaze knifed into Riley.

Sam ticked his eyes at me for a second, a tortured grimace rolling across his bruised face, before returning to Riley again. A deep, ugly cut slashed across the knuckles of his right hand, but he didn't seem to notice it when he balled his fingers into a fist.

"I'm leaving," Sam said, his voice more composed than the rest of him. Then he turned and disappeared down the stairs.

I blinked after him, my mind roiling with constant replays of his single glance at me. He'd seemed hurt somehow, but not in the physical sense. Surely he wasn't jealous of Riley and his hand-roaming hug. Was he?

With my finger pointed at the empty doorway, I turned to Riley. "What was all that about?"

"No idea," he said and rubbed his hands together, seeming to dismiss the whole thing. "So, what do you want to do tonight? Go to a club? A movie? We can do anything you want, and we've got six weeks to do it all in."

I smiled at his enthusiasm. "Food. I'm kind of a fan."

"Food first. Works for me."

"Shower first because I can't go anywhere smelling like this. I must smell like sweaty goat."

"If I agreed with you, would you dispose of my body somewhere where someone could find it within a few days, at least?"

I shrugged. "Doubtful."

"At least you're honest," he said, grinning. "No reading your book porn in the shower, okay?"

With a loud snort, I shooed him out of his parents' room. After the best shower of my life and smelling much less goat-like, I padded downstairs in my bare feet, my strappy sandals swinging at my side. I had no idea where we were going to eat, but I'd dressed myself in a casual black dress that skimmed my thighs, and I wore my long hair down so it waved in soft curls around my shoulders. One last glance in the mirror had assured me I looked well-organized, like book spines all lined up in a tidy row. Yes, I might've had some obsessive compulsive tendencies.

Riley stood in the living room with his cell pressed to his ear, his mouth pinched tight. "I left it on my desk. Are you even looking at my desk?"

Uh-oh. I leaned against the hallway wall to put my sandals on while trying to appear like I wasn't eavesdropping. The latter was easier than the former.

"Fine. I'll be there in ten." Riley ended the call then held the phone in a tight fist, like he was seriously considering whether to throw it or not.

"Trouble?" I asked.

He gave me a slow once-over, and his mouth dropped open as his gaze snagged on all my curves, of which I had more than a few. My Puerto Rican mom passed down a certain plumpness to various parts of my body, parts Riley had never seen before, let alone seen squeezed into a little black dress. Under his heated stare, I suddenly had the urge to cover up, even with the scorching sun outside the window that hadn't yet ended its plunge into twilight. Why couldn't it be like we were kids again, so easy and carefree?

"You look incredible." He walked toward me and then trailed his fingertips down my bare arms, tracking the movement with his eyes. "But I have to go to my office. My assistant can't find the report she needs for Dad, and he's flying out to Dallas first thing tomorrow."

"We'll just eat after, then," I said. "No problem."

Riley sighed and took his suit jacket from the back of the couch. "I mean we'll have to stay there and redo the report. My assistant said her computer crashed, so if she can't find the report, we'll have to redo the entire thing."

"That's terrible," I said, and failed to keep the note of disappointment from my voice.

"We'll catch up another time, okay?" he said. "There's plenty of food in the fridge. Help yourself to anything you need. I'll be back later." He shrugged into his jacket then dropped a kiss on my head. "I'm really sorry."

"Don't be. It's your work," I said.

"I'm really sorry," he said again. Frowning, he walked out.

I sagged against the closed door to fight with the straps on my sandals so I could take them off. All dressed up with no place to go. I allowed myself a full thirty seconds of a pity party complete with anguished violin music screeching through my head before I trudged back upstairs to change.

Do I know how to empty a house or what?