won’t call. And stay in the common areas.” I say as my phone vibrates, indicating a text.
“Olivia,” Rose calls my name as her door sweeps open. She scrubs a hand over her face, her long, dark hair still curled and perfect, and her lips looking pouty and beautiful. My best friend is runway material, with tattoos encircling her arms and across her collarbones, and striking green eyes that make her look both exotic and edgy. She appeals to all men, and she takes advantage of this, sleeping and disposing of them like the cheap pairs of flip-flops you get after a pedicure. Behind her, a guy with hair that reaches his shoulders and a scraggly beard appears. He grins at Rose and then saunters toward where I stand beside the front door, his gaze sliding down my body, making me grateful I’d changed out of my pajamas.
“See you, Rose,” He waves without looking back and disappears outside.
I stare at my best friend. “I thought you were over the Jared Leto phase?”
“He looked way hotter last night.”
“Beer goggles will do that.”
Rose grins guiltily. “It’s the eyes. Did you see his eyes?”
If it were just her and me, I’d ask her if his eyes had pleased her or came up short, but Sexy Wrists is still sitting at our kitchen table, watching us like he hears my thoughts. I turn my gaze from him to Rose and back again, silently asking the question, what is he doing here?
“Oh. Good. I’m glad you guys met. She’s great, right?” She directs her question to the guy.
He nods but doesn’t say anything.
She looks at me, doubt flashing in her eyes. “You were nice, right?” She looks back at the stranger. “Sorry, Arlo, morning and civility live on different continents sometimes for Olivia.”
He chuckles, the same smooth and gruff sound that is a complete contradiction.
I stare at her, pleading with her that this isn’t a setup. It’s been months since her last failed attempt at playing matchmaker, and she hadn’t even asked any leading questions this time—but that was likely the point. She knew I’d kibosh the idea if I had even an inclination.
“We’re working on a class project together,” she explains. “He got here, and I had to go wake up…” She can’t remember the Leto look-alike’s name. It’s not a first, but it still makes me chuckle.
“It’s early,” I say.
She nods. “I know. But Arlo has a crazy schedule, so this was the only time that worked. Sorry for the surprise.”
I shake my head, glancing at him. I try to see him differently—less like someone Rose would bring by and more like someone I’d partner up with in class. Guilt trickles into my expression. I was borderline rude with both my assumptions and my lack of offering anything to him. He reads my shame, his gray eyes shining with humor. “She thought we slept together,” he tells Rose.
Rose pulls her chin back, her gaze snapping to me. “What? No. No,” she says. “We’re friends. We met last year at a study group. He’s going for sports science, so some of our classes cross over.” Rose wants to become a yoga instructor—and not just any yoga instructor, but ‘the’ yoga instructor and build an empire and a chain of resorts and spas.
I swallow my desire to reiterate why it was easy to draw that conclusion and apologize. “I’m sorry for the assumption. I didn’t mean any offense by it.”
He shakes his head. “None taken.”
“How was the new alarm clock?” Rose asks with a grin.
“Evil,” I tell her. “I couldn’t figure out how to turn it off.”
Her smile broadens. “Then, it worked.”
“I want my old one back.”
“You just turn it off and go back to sleep.”
I frown. “I’m late,” I repeat. “I’ll see you later.”
Rose blows me a kiss. “Drive safe.”
It’s drizzling, the sky muted as I make my way to the parking lot. Winter seems to last forever up in Seattle—a constant haze of clouds and rain that make days feel like they never have a beginning, middle, or end.
I stow my bag in the back seat, get into the driver’s seat, and start my car while I pull out my phone, recalling the earlier buzz. There’s a text from Matt that has my thoughts coming to a halt. I’ve had a crush on Matt Jenkins since I was eleven. Not a crush in the way of making me forget my name and how to breathe—but in the way of shared tree forts and first