Page 13 of Force Play
Theuniversemusthavea cruel sense of humor if this is my fate.
How else would I possibly end up at Urban Grind across from Lucia Torres of all people?
The woman who I’m not sure has ever had a nice word to say to me.
The woman I’m about to make my fuckingroommatebecause, contrary to what she believes, I’m a nice guy and don’t want to see her out on the street.
Universe—one. Ari—zero.
Lucia takes a sip of her coffee, and all I can smell is peppermint. I’ve never been a fan of minty coffee, but to each their own. I prefer to not drink my toothpaste.
The silence between us grows louder, but I refuse to be the one to break. If she wants to talk, she needs to talk.
I’ll just focus on the barista behind the counter who thinks she’s discreetly looking at me.
She’s not.
But she’s cute, so I wink at her, and she immediately turns beet-red.
I know it’s cocky, but I don’t mind the effect I have on people.
“Alright, Casanova,” Lucia breathes, finally breaking the silence. “Stop flirting with the barista, will you?”
“I need something to fill my time since you aren’t talking.”
“You gonna fuck her in the supply closet?”
“I’m not opposed.”
“You’re such a fuckboy.”
I smirk at her. “Now, now, that’s no way to speak to your new roommate.”
Lucia groans and throws her head back. “I already fucking regret this.”
“Not too late to go for the cardboard box,” I shrug, leaning against the booth with my arms resting on the back.
“You know I hate being in this situation, right? That if I had any other options, I’d take them in a heartbeat?”
“Bit of a blow to my ego, Spitfire, but it’s not like I’m looking forward to this either.”
Lucia scrubs her hands down her face. “Is this seriously happening?”
“You tell me,” I reply. “You’re the one looking for a place to live.”
“Whyare you okay with this? You hate me, Ari.”
I roll my eyes. “I don’thateyou, Lucia. I don’tlikeyou. There’s a difference.”
She takes a deep breath, and her shoulders fall. “Why are you letting me do this?”
Her voice is soft, barely above a whisper. This is a far cry from the woman I know her to be. She’s always bold and brash, never so… dejected.
It’s even more disarming than her usual demeanor.
“Because,” I say, finally answering her question, “despite what you want to believe of me, I’m not an asshole.”
“You’re an asshole to me.” Lucia’s voice is still soft but closer to normal now.
