Page 20 of Pucking My Grumpy Roommate
I’d say I should just stick to my work instead of trying to make friends, but even that has its challenges.. But hey, I made it through. How was your day, Mr. Wrong Number?
Mr. Wrong Number
Frustrating. People expecting the impossible. The usual.
Want to talk about it?
There was a longer pause before his reply:
Mr. Wrong Number
Not really. But talking to you makes it better somehow.
A warm flutter moved through my chest at his words.
That night as I drifted toward sleep, I found myself wondering what Mr. Wrong Number looked like, what his voice sounded like—and why talking to him felt so much easier than navigating the tension-filled conversations with the brooding hockey player just down the hall.
The next morning, I dragged myself out of bed early, determined to make a better second impression at the lab.
When I padded into the kitchen, Stone was already there, dressed in athletic wear, his gym bag packed beside him. He was gulping down a protein shake with single-minded focus.
“Morning,” I said, keeping my voice deliberately quiet, remembering his rule about pre-coffee talking.
He nodded in acknowledgment, then glanced at his watch. “Running late. PT session got moved up.”
“Oh, don’t let me keep you.” I moved to the coffee maker, trying to stay out of his way.
He grabbed his gym bag and headed for the door, then paused with his hand on the doorknob. “Hey, we should probably exchange numbers.”
I looked up, surprised. “Really?”
“In case something important comes up.” He shrugged, trying to seem casual. “Building maintenance, emergencies, whatever.”
“Right, that makes sense.” I reached for my phone on the counter.
Stone pulled out his phone and began to input the digits. “You want to call me so you’ll have mine saved too?”
“Sure.” I nodded, feeling strangely formal about this simple exchange with a man I was temporarily living with.
Stone was staring at his phone, his expression shifting from casual to shocked in an instant. His eyes widened, and the color drained from his face.
“What is it?” I asked, confused by his reaction. “Is something wrong?”
He looked up at me, his ice-blue eyes filled with a mixture of disbelief and something else I couldn’t quite identify.
CHAPTER 6
AUSTIN
Istared at my phone screen in disbelief, my jaw clenching as the number Kate had just given me matched perfectly with one already stored in my contacts—the very same number that had been sending me those deliciously inappropriate texts. Before my brain could catch up with my thumb, I’d already hit the call button.
Kate’s phone buzzed in her hand. She glanced down, then back up at me, her bright green eyes widening with the same realization that had just knocked the wind out of me.
“You’re...” she started, her voice trailing off.
“Mr. Wrong Number,” I finished, recalling her ridiculous contact name for me.
For several excruciating seconds, we just stared at each other.
