Page 26 of IOU

Truthfully, the two guys who mentioned Maverick was looking for a roommate could be full of shit. But I’m going to knock anyway. Even if it is some old dude behind this door, I’m going to offer up my soul, or whatever it’s going to take, and I’m going to beg. Even if I have to get down on my knees and do it. I need a place to stay. I can’t go home. I’m not willing to admit defeat to Tucker and Taylor. They do not get to dictate my future at this university. This is my life, and I have control.

I am in control.

I curl my fingers into a fist and contemplate just pounding on the door like some guy would do, but I don’t because he may come out ready to fight, and then things would only get awkward. I’m just going to be a girl and rap a few dainty times. Maybe he’ll have a little compassion seeing as I’m a lowly desperate girl.

Lightly, I rap on the door and then pause. Dammit. I didn’t knock hard enough. Should I knock one more time or leave it? Great, now I’m obsessing. I should have knocked like I was the police. Fine, I’ll just give it another minute and put my ear to the door like most sane humans. You know it’s not that crazy of an idea. If I hear footsteps, I’ll know my knocking was loud enough. If I hear nothing in the next sixty seconds, I’ll knock again but harder.

With my ear to the door, I strain to hear. Nothing clatters, nothing groans, it’s just silent. And right when I pull back to knock again, the deadbolt clicks. Oh shit. Oh shit. Oh shit. He’s unlocking the door—or someone is unlocking the door.

I step back just as the door swings open with force, and a rock-hard body fills up the empty space. My gaze starts at the top, noting the firm grip he has on the molding. The muscles strain against his taut skin, flexing as he leans forward, cocking his head to the side. His face—

Oh shit.

This is bad—really, really bad.

“Oh no.”

His scowl curves up into a lazy grin.

“Waitress,” he purrs. His voice has this melody of a luring song—one meant to pull you in and destroy your heart in a matter of seconds.

It doesn’t affect me, though.

“Dick at table forty-three, the princess who needed his steak warmed.”

Slap me with a stupid sticker because I have lost my damn mind. Why did I just say that? Yes, he was the rude-ass who insisted I warm his food up, and yes, he’s the one I dumped said food on, but that was yesterday, and I have moved on. Hopefully, so has he.

“Dick, huh?” He drops one of his massive arms and rubs a spot just above—ah damn, his nipple is pierced. Not to mention the whole right side of his ribs are covered in a massive tribal tattoo. Even on his left, a smaller tattoo wraps from his back and ends on his stomach, teasing me to gaze longingly at the ridiculous set of six-pack abs between them.

Why is life not fair?

I drag in a deep breath and try to let any animosity of yesterday go. “Can we start over?”

That lazy grin of his falls in an instant. “No.”

No. Okay. Well, that’s not good.

Sighing, I watch as his body goes rigid, and his arm goes back to the top of the doorframe, blocking any view behind him. His icy blue eyes stare back at me unyielding and hard, not the same guy who grinned when he first saw me. “I’m sorry about last night.” Hopefully, my sincerity will soften him.

“What can I do for you?”

Okay, so we’re going with a hard no on being softened.

With no hint of emotion, other than the apparent tone of boredom, one can surmise that Maverick will not be bought with sweetness and apologies. I’m going with plan B, which I’m making up as I go.

“Are you Maverick?” I could have said that a little stronger and without the slight tremor.

He drops his hands and reaches into his back pocket, producing a handful of playing cards. Oh no. I’m not prepared for it to get real this fast. What if those two idiots in class were right? What if I’m never the same after this?

“How much is it worth to you?” He drawls, producing a marker.

I swallow and straighten, plastering a snide grin on my face. “Nothing. Just producing the cards tells me I have the right person.”

He nods, seemingly pleased with my answer. “I would say you’re a smart girl, but the fact you’re standing at my door speaks otherwise.”

This ass.

“I need a favor.”

---