Page 4 of Loud Hot Roomie
Of course I chose to be cut off. OfcourseI did.
I’ll admit. It fucking stings they both held firm on this. Since I’m a product of both Mom and Dad, I’m doubly stubborn and held equally firm on my stance. Now I’m packed and headed for a new life without them.
They’ll miss me.
How could they not?
I’ll bet the house will be so quiet, Mom will cry and Dad will go insane. I’m the motherfucking heartbeat of the Valentine home. They’re basically dead without me.
Keep telling yourself that, bro.
My GPS takes me to a quant townhome complex called Moonlit Gables. It’s a far cry from our multimillion-dollar home on the affluent side of town. But, it’s exactly what I need. A fresh start. No overbearing parents breathing down my neck and making me do things I don’t want to fucking do.
The sad part is, I really, really wish I could.
Not the school shit, but the part that made school tolerable. College soccer. I live for soccer. Fucking breathe it. But, an injury can change everything. In my case, it’s a repeat grade II hamstring strain in my right leg. Every time I think I’ve healed it through physical therapy, I manage to injure it again, putting me right back at square one.
If I can’t play soccer for the college team, what’s the point of even going?
I pull around to one side of the complex like Derek instructed and park my Audi in front of unit nine beside a new pickup truck. Home sweet home. After shutting off the engine, I grab my backpack and then climb out of the vehicle. There’s more clothes and shit in my trunk, but I need to make sure this dude’s cool before I drag my stuff to the front door.
A bout of nerves twists my gut. This is so outside my comfort level. I know I’m a pampered guy who’s never had to want for anything in life. I’m trading it all in for Derek in unit nine at Moonlit Gables.
Rather than letting the anxiety eat me alive, I lift my chin and make my way to the door. My hamstring aches, but I’ve finally graduated from my latest PT run. I can deal with the ache rather than the torture of physical therapy.
And, because I’m quitting college, injuring myself again isn’t going to happen.
I’m done with soccer.
I rap on the front door with my knuckles, eager to think about anything else aside from the death of my athletic career. My best bud, Rhett Monahan, will no doubt give me shit for my sudden life change, but I refuse to think about that now.
I’ve made my decision and I’m going through with it.
“Coming,” a deep voice says from inside the townhome.
Seconds later, the door opens and a man greets me with a forced smile. He’s dressed in nothing but a pair of black sweatpants. Literally nothing else. No shirt, no socks, and if my brief glance at his crotch isn’t lying to me, no underwear either.
Turn the fuck around, Riko. Go home.
Somehow taller than my six-foot-three frame, the man who must be Derek, towers over me. His muscular shoulders are glistening with droplets of water as if he just hopped out of the shower. I can’t help but dart my gaze down to his pectoral muscles that are sprinkled in dark chest hair.
Go. The. Fuck. Home.
My brain begs for me to be smart for just once in my life, but my dick always wins every argument between the two. Right now, my cock is thick and happy as fuck because my new roomie is fine. Really damn fine.
I lick my lips and jut out a hand toward him, aching for my fingers to graze over his perfect abs. “Riko Valentine. You must be…”
“Derek Blake,” he says with a grunt that reminds me of a bear. “Come inside.”
Offering him my flirtiest grin, I stride past him into the space. The door closes behind me as I scan the place. It’s clean inside and pretty bare. Derek must be a minimalist. Or, maybe he justdoesn’t know how to decorate. Either way, this place needs some Riko magic.
“Rent’s due in two weeks,” Derek blurts out. “Want a beer or something?”
I look over my shoulder at the scowling man who’s watching me like I might be here to wreak havoc on his life. I mean, I am, but that’s because I wreak havoc on everyone’s life. Ask my parents.
“You do know I’m only nineteen, right?” I can’t help but tease him.
He winces and curses under his breath. “Uh, sorry. Don’t tell Cole I offered you alcohol. He’s a cop who lives nearby.”
