They scramble, laughing as they fumble with zippers and buttons as if this is some kind of joke.I turn away, disgusted.I can’t even look at them.
The second they’re gone, I slam the door shut, rip the sheets off my bed, and stuff them angrily into the hamper like they personally betrayed me.After replacing them with fresh linens, I collapse onto the mattress, pulling a pillow over my head to try and muffle the music and shouting.
I need to move out.
Tomorrow.
I can’t do this anymore.
My phone buzzes on the nightstand.Dad.
I hit “silence” without a second thought.I don’t have the energy for another lecture.Not tonight.
Eventually, after what feels like hours of trying to ignore the pounding music and the occasional scream-laugh from the hallway, I drift off.
I wake to sunlight bleeding through the blinds.
No music.No voices.Just silence.
Thank God.
I shift slightly, stretching—but something holds me in place.
Arms.
Strong arms, wrapped securely around my waist.A firm chest pressed against my back.Slow, steady breaths warming the back of my neck.
What the—
My eyes snap open.I lift the edge of the comforter and glance down.
A bare arm.Porcelain skin.Faint scars.Veins.
Him.
I turn my head slowly, pulse roaring in my ears.
Lying next to me—face relaxed, lashes dark against his cheek—isFox Wilder.
Fox.Inmybed.Holding me.
And for one terrifying, dizzying second, I wonder if I’m still asleep.
6
Friends And Foes
Itrynottopanic as I think of 300 reasons Fox is in my bed.Shirtless.My pulse races and my mind spins out of control as I take in the scene.Fox, lying there so casually, with his arm draped over my waist like it’s the most natural thing in the world.His body heat lingers against my skin, sending conflicting waves of discomfort and something else—something I don’t want to admit—through me.
I take a moment to actually study him, and for a second, I can’t help but admire him.His fair skin almost glows against the early morning light streaming through my curtains.His long eyelashes cast soft shadows across his face, giving him an angelic appearance that contradicts everything I know about him.His hair, dark brown and tousled, falls just above his eyebrows, which are furrowed in a sleepy expression.
His arm tightens ever so slightly around me, and a surge of panic flashes through my chest.I don’t want him to wake up and find me like this—staring at him, heart racing, completely out of my element.But before I can move, my eyes drift down the length of his torso.He’s lean but muscular, with abs faintly defined under his skin.God, why am I noticing this?The slight rise and fall of his chest as he breathes, his slightly parted lips—plump and pink—all draw my attention, unwillingly.
God, I’m such a creep.
I bite my lip and force myself to tear my gaze away from him.Jesus, Cameron, pull it together.He’s your obnoxious, homophobic roommate.Not some guy you’re supposed to ogle just because he’s asleep and shirtless.I run a hand over my face in frustration.How could I even begin to justify feeling… whatever this is?The fact that he’s rude, unbearable, and seemingly despises everything about me should be enough to extinguish any of these weird thoughts.
I remind myself of the mess from last night—the party, the chaos.Two people had sex in my bed last night, and now here he is, passed out like none of it matters.Typical Fox.That thought pulls me back to reality.I need to get out of this situation, not get tangled up in it.
