Slow No Wake - By Dakota Madison Page 0,20
jealous type, who’s going to freak out every time I see you talking with another guy.”
“How about we just take things slowly and see where they lead?” I suggested.
He nodded although I could see a flicker of disappointment flash in his eyes. “I really wanted to see you for lunch yesterday, but my roommate texted me with a small crisis that needed to be taken care of.”
I was a little surprised because I saw him talking with someone by the school. “Is your roommate a teacher?” I asked.
His glanced down and I could see he was hesitant to explain.
“I didn’t mean to pry.” I was suddenly uncomfortable
He sighed. “It’s okay. You’ll find out eventually. My roommate is a teacher here.”
“I hope it’s not Mr. LaRoche,” I joked.
He didn’t laugh. Oh. No.
“So you’ve already heard about him?”
“I heard a lot about him and none of it good,” I admitted.
“Unfortunately, everything you heard is probably true.”
I went wide-eyed.
He continued, “I don’t tell many people that we’re roommates, especially women, and especially when we first meet, because I don’t want them to think I treat women the way he does.”
I took a deep breath. It was a lot to handle. “So why do you live with him, if you don’t mind my asking?”
“We’ve been roommates since our freshman year of college. We always played sports together and had a lot of fun. Now we kite surf together. I know he’s a dog. I guess I just put up with it because that’s just the way he is.”
It made me think about my sister. She was always a tease and flirt, and frankly, kind of a slut, and I always put up with it because she was my sister. That was, until she screwed my fiancé.
“I think I understand,” I said.
Daniel seemed to breathe a sigh of relief.
When I held up the pickle he had given me and took a bite, I noticed a big smile light up his face.
***
That evening, I was lying on the couch thinking about Daniel, when there was pounding on the door. Shit. I didn’t want to see Eddie. I was starting to have feelings for Daniel and I didn’t want them to be overshadowed by Eddie’s—well—everything. He exuded so much raw sexuality and overwhelming charm, it was hard to resist.
I thought about pretending I wasn’t home or at least pretending to be asleep, but the pounding continued. Ugh.
I went to the door and opened it a sliver. “What do you want?” I said as curtly as possible.
“What are we doing tonight?” Eddie asked.
“We’re not doing anything,” I said and made a move to close the door on him. He was a little too fast for me though, and he already had his foot inside.
“Come on,” he said. “Let’s hang out.”
“Why don’t you hang out with the porn star you had over last night? I’m sure she’d be more than willing to provide a repeat performance.”
He actually had the audacity to grin. The man officially had no shame. “I don’t do two-night stands,” he said.
“You completely disgust me,” I snarled.
“So you do have feelings for me,” he countered.
I just scowled at him.
“Are you going to make me stand out here in your doorway all night?” He tapped on the door frame.
I sighed and opened the door to let him in. The quicker I let him in, the sooner he’d be gone, I rationalized.
“Don’t you have anything better to do than to annoy me?” I asked. “Where’s your roommate?”
“Danny-O’s a good boy. He’s always working hard, trying to better himself,” he said as he flopped on my couch, as was becoming his habit. “I just work to support my three loves.” He held up one finger. “First, is wine—or beer—really anything with alcohol.” He held up another finger. “Second, is women, which needs no further explanation.” He held up a third finger. “Last, but in no way least, is kite surfing.”
“Sounds deep,” I said.
He grabbed the book I was reading and looked at the cover. The Picture of Dorian Gray by Oscar Wilde. “Going old school with a little light reading before you go to bed, huh?”
“And what would you know about Oscar Wilde?” I asked as I sat down on the couch next to him.
“I’ve read it,” he said seriously.
I rolled my eyes. “You’ve read The Picture of Dorian Gray?” I couldn’t image him reading anything, let alone Oscar Wilde.
His eyes bore into me.
I shrugged. “I guess it makes sense. The book is about a handsome and narcissistic guy,