It just makes me sweat harder.
I exhale through my nose and reset my stance.I will not make this weird. I will not let it be weird.I will be the chill, normal, extremely respectful roommate she needs.
A crotch enters my vision and I glance up.
Luca Babineaux. My new roommate’s best friend’s fiancé. And our landlord.
Fantastic. Just what I need when I’m already one bench press away from disassociating.
“Heard you had an eventful morning at your house recently,” he says, all smug and amused, a shit-eating grin tugging at the corner of his mouth. Bastard has been waiting all day to say something.
My arms are toast, my brain is scrambled eggs, and my will to live is somewhere in the locker room with my deodorant.
“Is Nova incapable of keeping a single thing to herself?”
“Obviously not.”
“Poppy was cooking eggs,” I groan miserably. “In athong.”
Scrap of lace between her cheeks. Thin bra. I’m only human, not made of stone. And in my bedroom, ten feet away, I could hear her humming…
Luca whistles. “And you lived to tell the tale. You’re a stronger man than me.”
“I didn’tdoanything,” I snap.
“Exactly.” He keeps grinning. “That’s why I’m impressed. You’re basically a monk.”
I rest my elbows on my knees, exhaling hard. I can still see her. Those legs. The underwear. That nervous laugh. I can smell the damn eggs...
“She lives under the same roof,” I mutter. “I cannot afford to have these thoughts about her.”
But I have been. Constantly.
It’s like my brain has developed a new setting: Poppy Mode. Always on. Always aware.
“Sure you can.” Luca kneels his knee on the bench beside me and leans in like we’re having a team meeting. “You’re human. Your eyes aren’t broken. Maybe what you need is to get out of your own head. Go out. Get laid.”
I shoot him a look.
He shrugs. “I’m serious. Go find someone who doesn’t live down the hall from you to clear the pipes.”
“Jesus Christ.”
But also, he’s not wrong.
It’s been a long time since I’ve gotten laid. Still, it feels weird premeditating it.
“When is the last time you were on a date?” Luca continues probing, as if it’s his job.
I grunt through my final push and rack the bar with a clang. “Um. I don’t know. I’ve been busy.”
He picks up a towel, wipes his hands. “Too busy to make time for a little joy in your life?”
I sit up, grab my water bottle, and shoot him a look. “By joy, do you mean fucking?”
Luca grins, leaning against the squat rack like he owns the place. “That’s exactly what I mean. Come out with us tonight. Drinks. Music. I’ll put together a small group, just the usual suspects. Nothing crazy.”
I roll my shoulder, considering. The idea of loud music and sticky floors doesn’t exactly appeal, but sitting home with the temptation of my new roommate, again, sounds worse.
