Just Roommates

Chapter 6

"Of course he has a girlfriend," I mumble to myself as jealousy needles it's way under my skin, my eyes never leaving him through the window above the sink.

I imagine her to be a total knockout. I mean, there's no way someone who looks and acts the way Ian does could possibly be with anyone less than gorgeous. My vision of this Michelle person is ethereal. She's so beautiful that I can't even guess what color her hair and eyes might be because it wouldn't do her natural beauty justice. It wouldn't even matter anyway because she's so perfect that she'd look good no matter what.

She's tall, because Ian is, and she's got curves that a woman should be proud of. And while my body isn't terrible, I know it's not nearly as voluptuous as I assume hers to be. Because of her terrific body, there isn't a doubt in my mind that she's a rock star in bed. And me? Well, I drove away the only sexual partner I've ever had.

Add that to being the last female a gay guy dated before coming out, and my track record is pretty friggin' stellar.

She'll be really nice too, not some cold as ice bitch who thinks she walks on water, because I don't think Ian would put up with that. Not even for the rock star sex.

The more I think about Ian's perfect girlfriend, the more frustrated and stupid I feel for ever thinking he was flirting with me. The way he stuck up for me with Adam, the winking . . . Clearly, I was reading way too much into what were obviously very innocent and friendly gestures. As usual.

Grumbling some more, I wipe my damp hands roughly on the dishtowel I'm holding when the door slides open and Ian walks in.

"Sorry about that." He takes in my agitated state and frowns. "Are you all right?"

Blushing, I drop my gaze from him and tuck my hair behind my ear with my free hand. "Yeah, I should really just get going. Let you get on with your night and all that," I tell him, tossing the towel onto the counter and snatching up my phone. I won't be surprised if he can hear the notes of jealousy in my voice, because I sure as hell do.

I realize that I'm behaving irrationally—and possibly a little childishly—but I hate that I let myself be dazzled by him when I should have known there was no possible way he could be available.

He follows me from the kitchen, his long stride allowing him to beat me to the door. "You don't have to, you know. I actually don't have any plans for the night. Feel free to stay and make yourself at home." I'm right back to feeling confused; he's very clearly involved, and yet he's asking me to stay.

"Thanks, but my parents are expecting me anyway," I say, offering him an uncertain smile. "I don't have school on Friday, so I'll probably bring the rest of my things by . . . if that's all right?"

Ian smiles, green eyes glimmering. "Don't be silly. Of course it's all right. You'll call if you need any help?"

I nod. "Of course. I'll talk to you soon. Thanks again for everything this afternoon. It . . . it really meant a lot."

Still grinning, Ian opens the door for me. "I'm just glad I could help. You'll drive safe?"

"Always do," I assure him before waving and making my way down the steps.

Like last time, he stands in the doorway until I drive away—and who knows; maybe he stays there for a while after I'm out of sight. Unlikely, I deduce.

I arrive home without dwelling too much on the new information I've learned about Ian's . . . availability, only to find my dad in the kitchen, cleaning his guns. He's got the table covered in canvas, and his various guns and cleaning supplies are spread out in front of him.