Tryst [Preview] (Publication: March 17, 2015)

Chapter 1

I watch my brother, Josh, struggle with my belongings. His tall, lean frame scrambles by me, and his short black hair is damp with sweat. Why he chose to wear a tight V-neck sweater and jeans in the August heat is beyond me. I sigh as I swing my backpack over my shoulder. Josh is trying to manage a box and my luggage as we enter through the front door. He stumbles into the living room, and I remember that, though my brother is suave on the surface, clumsiness is genetic.

I love that my brother cares, but it can be overwhelming sometimes. It does make me smile that he’s so excited to let me live with him for a while. I should consider myself lucky. Sometimes I think he thinks he owes it to me because he was gone so long for school, but it’s not as if we grew apart. He’s a twenty-seven-year-old business professional. Even the title makes me giggle, but he definitely has made a name for himself as an agent for some big shot Hollywood talent agency. From what he’s told me, he has some famous clientele. He won’t tell me about them, which I think is silly.

I set my backpack on the coffee table, and finally turn my head to give this place a good look. Jeez, it’s nice in here, nothing like my shitty apartment in Orange County. His place is modern, minimalist, and mostly white with little contrast other than the large red sofa and love seat that face a large flat screen TV. The place is not necessarily lacking in “bachelor pad” with a glowing red neon beer sign on the back wall, and black and white photographs of L.A.’s skyline.

Well, I guess I knew my brother wasn’t struggling for money. In a way, it makes me curious why he even has a roommate.

Josh interrupts my thoughts. He’s giddy, the corners of his mouth reaching from ear to ear, and it makes me smile too. “I’m going to grab the last of your stuff, OK?” Before I can answer, he is already out the door.

I’m glad my presence makes him happy. I feel like I’m intruding on his bachelor life. Who wants to have their little twenty-two-year-old sister living with them?

I realize I’m parched. The large living room opens into the kitchen, where a dark granite island and counters greet me. The kitchen is spotless, with minimal kitchenware—a toaster, coffeemaker, and of course, a stainless steel fridge. I wonder if this place is clean only because they knew I would be arriving. That would be something Josh would do.

I open cabinets, searching for a glass, and on the second attempt, a voice startles me.

“Cups are on the right, near the fridge.”

I turn around, and my breath catches in my throat at the sight. A barely dressed boy—er, man?—stands there, idly watching me.

“Um, thank you.” I grab a glass and fill it with water.

He gives me this all-American-boy grin, seeming to enjoy my obvious discomfort. “No problem. Skyler, isn’t it?”

I take a sip and respond. “Yes. Roommate, I presume?” Getting those words out wasn’t so hard. As I wait for his response, my eyes drag down his tan, toned physique, and I linger a little too long at the V at the edge of his navy blue boxer briefs.

His voice brings me back to his stark forest-colored eyes that complement his dark brown hair. Those eyes are distracting.

“I’ve got a name. Blake. Blake Everett. Nice to meet you.”

Was that a hint of attitude?Without a second thought and no shame, he leans his half-naked body over and raises his hand to shake mine. I can tell he is enjoying this, and it only makes me more uneasy.

I shake his hand as confidently as possible, and my imbedded manners kick in. “Nice to meet you too, Blake. Thanks for letting me stay here.”

He smirks, and I notice him giving me the once-over. I suddenly wish I wore nicer jeans, rather than this torn-up pair. I don’t like the feeling of being under his judgmental eyes because I nowhere near compare to this Greek god. I run my hands through my curly black hair, and wish I’d brushed it before leaving this morning. He’s so pretty it hurts.