Page 66 of Damn Roommate

He winks at me, I laugh. Then everything goes very quickly. A remix of “Shape of You” by Ed Sheeran sizzles through the speakers and the whole crowd begins to dance. Joe grabs my hand and twirls me around a few times, until I find myself pressed against his chest. Arms wrapped around my hips, hemoves behind me, pulling me into a lascivious and terribly sensual rhythm. Except that in this position—which I hated a few minutes ago because of Nolan and his target—I’m faced with the problem again. Nolan hasn’t moved, still glued to his bitch who is making more and more seductive moves, almost doing a personalized lap dance in the middle of the dance floor.

Instead of being focused on the little show that she’s putting on, he observes me without blinking. With furrowed brows and piercing eyes, he examines me from head to toe before coming to rest his eyes on Joe’s hands. His jaw clenches, my legs wobble and my whole body explodes. My buttocks, stuck against the body behind me, wake up and move with enthusiasm. I sway, staring at a Nolan who doesn’t seem to enjoy the show and who therefore no longer pays any attention to his evening hookup.

I gloat and turn to face Joe, grinning from ear to ear, but before I finish my dance his body is thrown away from me. A rough hand grabs my wrist and I’m pulled without any delicacy out of the dance floor. My feet stumble, but I hold on to the back in front of me, as I’m pulled along through the crowd. I observe the man’s straight neck, his short hair, and square shoulders, shaped in a white T-shirt that I recognize too well. My heart races in my chest. Nolan walks through a door at the end of a dark hallway and we find ourselves in the backyard of the building. The temperature shock mixes with my anger and makes me shiver.

“What the hell are you doing?” I spit.

“I’m screwing up your little show. What was it exactly? A personalized lap dance?”

I hold back my laughter at the words he uses, because they are the exact same ones that crossed my mind when the brunette was hugging him.

“I’m single, I do what I want. What you gonna do? Screw up my plans like when we were 15?” I imitate him.

“Don’t play that game, Scar!

“I’m not playing, Jones!”

I glare at him, finally inspecting around us to find that we are surrounded by crates full of liquor bottles and that the door we have just passed through has slammed behind us, locking us in this dark, narrow courtyard far from a public space.

“You know they can throw us out if they find us here!”

“I don’t give a fuck.”

His rage is palpable, and I frown, crossing my arms against my chest as a light wind envelops us.

“Why did you bring me here?”

“To get you out of the hands of this pervert,” he says with disconcerting ease.

With clenched fists, he keeps his arms along his body, and his chest rises and falls very irregularly. His jaw clenched; he probes me with an unreadable glint in his eyes. It’s only when I see his posture and the line between his eyebrows that I realize it.

Not like my brother when he catches me with a guy. No.

Like a guy who just witnessed something he’d rather not.

Like whenIsee him with a girl.

But Nolan can’t be jealous.

“What’s wrong with you?”

My voice is calmer, and I walk towards him, stopping only inches from where he’s positioned. His hot breath burns my face, and the sweet smell of his skin tingles my nostrils. My heart leaps in my chest as his eyes slide to my lips.

“I’m protecting you, that’s all,” he snaps. “From nightclub losers who only think about fucking.”

“Stop me if I’m wrong but… isn’t that what you were about to do with your evening catch?” I ask.

He frowns, raising an eyebrow.

“Sorry, I’m not specific. Between the waitress and thebrunette on the dance floor, it was starting to pile up at the door of Nolan Jones.”

My voice is frank, annoyed. I’m jealous and I don’t hide my feelings. I think I’ve gotten to a point where whatever I do, my whole being is exuding forhim. My senses, my skin, my heart. I want this guy. So hard. Every bit, fiber, muscle, vein of my body wants him.

“It’s not the same for me,” he says.

I burst out laughing, his face relaxes. He scrutinizes me and the line between his eyebrows gradually disappears.

“You’re just like everyone else. Getting weak in front of a woman who moves her ass. If it’s just that, I can do a dance for you right here, if you want.”

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