THE HOUSEMATE | ✓

8

New's pov-

“Morning.” I made a show of looking at my watch when Tay appeared in the lounge, clasping a large mug in his hands, somehow still managing to look hot despite the fact that he was clearly hungover as fuck. “Or should I say afternoon?”

“Fuck off.” He didn’t even spare me a glance, dropping to the sofa next to Win, who was engrossed in something on his laptop, his fingers tapping along with whatever he was listening to through his AirPods.

When I glanced over at Tay, his cheeks were flushed, and his grip on his mug was so tight, his knuckles were white.

Right. No reminders of last night. I got the hint that he was hoping we’d both forget about it.

It wasn’t that easy, though.

Last night…it had been a mistake to kiss that guy. I’d told myself that it was what I needed. This was part of what I’d been hoping my uni experience would be like—to be able to meet guys who were interested in me and to be out in the open with them. Not only that, but my enemy-slash-housemate had been occupying way too much of my headspace, and it had to stop.

But as soon as the guy had started to kiss me, it was clear that something was missing.

I’d tried to get into the kiss, but when he’d moved his mouth to my neck, I realised that it wasn’t what I wanted. He wasn’t what I wanted. I’d been set to break away from him when I’d noticed someone watching us.

Tay. He was half hidden in the shadows, his heavy-lidded gaze focused on me, and his mouth open as he stared at us. He swiped his tongue across his lips in a completely unconscious movement, and that was when my dick had gone from barely interested to extremely interested. I didn’t know what had possessed me, but I’d moved away from the guy and palmed my cock through my jeans as Tay watched me, completely unmoving. I couldn’t make out his expression, but he looked so fucking hot right then.

I’d never had that kind of reaction to someone before. Yeah, I’d noticed how hot Tay was from the moment I’d first seen him, but right then, it was like someone had turned the dial all the way up, and everything had been amplified to the point where I couldn’t concentrate on anything else other than him.

He’d disappeared before I’d even had a chance to move. By the time I’d found him again, he was more or less passed out on the floor. A weird protective instinct had burned through me, seeing him like that, and I’d helped him out of the house. He’d passed out on my shoulder almost as soon as we’d got back inside number 3, and Sing and I had to practically carry him up the stairs. I’d managed to get him into the bathroom just in time before he’d been sick three times in a row, and then I’d just about managed to manhandle him onto his bed where he’d fallen asleep.

I hadn’t dared to leave him in case he was sick again. I’d only taken enough time to find water and painkillers, and then I’d curled up on his small sofa and dozed for a few hours before he’d woken up and kicked me out of his room. That had kind of hurt, although it shouldn’t have. I hadn’t been expecting a thanks, given that we were barely on speaking terms.

Now, I took the chance to study him while he stared at the TV, drinking his coffee. I dropped the teasing because he really didn’t look good.

“How are you feeling?” I said softly.

“Why do you care?” he snapped. “It’s just a hangover.”

“Okay. Just a question.” I attempted to keep my voice calm, even though my natural instinct was to answer back.

When he turned to glare at me, I stood abruptly and walked out of the lounge. There was no way I could stay in the same room as him anymore and not get into an argument, and I’d only end up feeling guilty if I antagonised him while he was in this state.