Page 19 of Roommate's Guide to Love

Cuddling leads to feelings. And we don’t have room for feelings here.

I don’t even remember falling asleep, which is probably because the man fucked me into a coma. One second I’m actually begging for him to fuck me, the next I’m waking up having to go to the bathroom. I thought I’d just closed my eyes for a second. So consider me shocked when I realized it was five-forty-five in the morning and Porter’s muscled arm was draped across me. I don’t know how I Houdini’d myself out of his bedroom, or his hold, but somehow I did.

Either that, or he pretended to sleep and let me think I won.

Which, if he did that, will earn him a future blow job. It’s the least I can do.

Knowing I was going back to Porter’s after Ainsley dropped me off, I stopped drinking way before my sisters did. That way I could pretend to go inside and then wait a few minutes until she drove away before grabbing the spare keys for my mom’s car. And now, luckily, because the sun isn’t up, no one is around to see me drive away from his old farmhouse and make the ten-minute drive to my parents.

“One of these days, Quinn, you’re going to stop being dumb,” I say to myself as I turn onto the empty road. “Obviously not today. But one of these days.”

What was I thinking last night? Oh. I know. I was horny and sad. That’s what I was thinking. Which means now I’m doing a true walk of shame while simultaneously praying that my dad sleeps in today and doesn’t get up at his normal six in the morning.

“For once in your life, Dad, remember you’re retired and stay in bed.”

I shut off the car, take a breath for good luck, and make my way to the front door. Over the years, I got really good at turning the lock with minimal noise. It was clutch in high school. Who knew it would be a skill that would come in handy later in life?

I slowly open it, doing my best to minimize the sound, and at first, I don’t hear anything. I let out a sigh of relief, knowing I just have to make my way up the stairs then a quick turn into my bedroom before I’m scot-free.

I slip off my shoes, not wanting any extra weight for noise, and just as I hit the third step, I hear a voice that stops me cold.

“Good morning, Quinn.”

And suddenly I’m sixteen again, getting busted by John Banks after sneaking out to a senior party even though I was only a sophomore.

Ha! Funny enough, I think that was the first night I hung out with Porter.

“Hey, Dad.”

“Do I want to know?”

I don’t turn around. I can’t bear to look at him and his likely disappointed face as I’m still wearing my clothes from the night before. “Nope.”

“Are you okay?”

“Yup.”

He lets out a sigh. “I thought once you moved out of my house we’d be done with this.”

“Believe me, so did I.”

Neither of us say anything, and I’m too scared to turn around. Luckily, he breaks the silence.

“Go get some sleep. But when you wake up, you know we’re going to need to talk. Abouteverything.”

It’s the way he emphasizes that last word makes me turn to face him.

Now, this scene right here is not the first time I’ve been busted by my dad sneaking into, or out of, this house. And yes, I was always punished. But I never thought it was unfair. Dad was a lawyer for forty-two years, and I always appreciated the way he weighed out the crime and balanced the punishment.

Having more than a few run-ins like this in my teenage years, my dad and I got really close. Which is odd to say for the troublemaker kid, but our punishment sessions always ended up more than just him grounding me. And with that, we came to really know each other. I could always tell when he had a bad case and something was bothering him about it. On the other end, he could sense when I was hiding something. The man could read me like no other.

So with him emphasizing “everything,” I have a feeling that he’s not meaning to talk to me about stumbling in during the morning hours. No, he knows this is more than a weekend trip home.

John Banks just knows me that well.

“We will, Dad. I promise.”

He nods, and signals for me to go up the stairs. “Get some sleep. I won’t tell your mom you stole her car. Again.”

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