Total pages in book: 118
Estimated words: 112892 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 564(@200wpm)___ 452(@250wpm)___ 376(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 112892 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 564(@200wpm)___ 452(@250wpm)___ 376(@300wpm)
“No. The treatment center said it would be at least a week or two before she can have phone calls.” I flopped down, trying to avoid the gravitation pull of the massive divot in the mattress, and sighed in the direction of the ceiling.
“I’m sorry. That’s rough. Want me to come over so we can both test our strength against the mattress?”
“No, thanks. It’s not important. Even the saggy side is more comfortable than some beds I’ve been in.”
“Seriously, can’t you just sleep on the other side?”
“No. It’s next to the wall, and that would make me feel kind of trapped.” It was hard to explain, but I liked knowing my exits were free.
“I understand.” But she didn’t give up. “Could you ask one of your hot new roommates to help?”
“No.” I suppressed a sigh. I didn’t even know if I was allowed to change anything up in here—I sure hadn’t been at some of the foster homes I’d lived at.
It was time to switch the subject to something more pleasant. “Speaking of hot men, how are your guys doing?”
“Really good.” Her voice warmed.
And then she was off and running, telling me about all the kind and thoughtful things that Kyle, Jayden, and Lucas had done for her lately—along with a few things that were less on the kind side and far more on the steamy side.
Was I jealous? Yes. Especially with Jayden, whom I’d met at the beginning of the semester. He was a smart, funny, and thoughtful man—exactly the type I’d never dated. But I was happy for both him and Tori. All of them, in fact. Somehow, the four of them together seemed to work.
As for me, I had a job. I had classes. And that was enough for now. It was all I could handle, in fact.
When we finally hung up, I sat down heavily on the bed, only to spring up again when I sank into the body-shaped dip. I swore, and then cut myself off guiltily, hoping no one outside of my room had heard. It was going to drive me nuts if I couldn’t get this mattress turned.
The sudden knock at the door startled me, and I jumped to my feet. Opening the door, I found Aaron there. Had he heard me cuss? If so, I was glad it was him and not one of the others. He’d seemed friendly and open last night. A little like Jayden, only less sarcastic.
He had on faded blue jeans and a white t-shirt that hugged his chest. He smiled and lifted a hand to place it on the doorframe, causing his sleeve to ride up. To my surprise, I spotted the bottom of a tattoo on his bicep. He struck me as the rather clean-cut type, so I hadn’t been expecting that.
“Hey, Mia.”
“Hi,” I said, a little shyly. I wasn’t this shy at my job—I worked as a barista at a small coffee shop on campus—but having handsome men show up at my room was a lot different from preparing a cappuccino.
“I heard…” he trailed off, looking over my shoulder at the mattress askew on the box spring—not that I’d been able to move it much. “Need some help?”
“No thanks, I’m just making the bed.” The lie came quickly, for reasons I didn’t entirely understand.
His eyebrows rose as he surveyed the room. “Making it or moving it?”
“I—well, you see, there’s this dip in the mattress.”
“And you were trying to flip a queen mattress by yourself?” The disbelief in his voice made me see how dumb I’d been to think I could do it on my own.
“I was just going to turn it. I, um, didn’t know if we were allowed to change anything in here.”
He studied me, his hazel eyes intent. “It’s your room.”
“Yeah, but…” I’d had my own room before, but it hadn’t meant I was allowed to change things. I’d learned that the hard way in the past.
His smile was gentle. “Want a hand?”
A sigh of relief escaped me. That I wasn’t in trouble. That he was going to help. “Thanks, that would be great.”
He took a step forward and then stopped. “Okay if I come in?”
I bit back a smile. Tattoo or no, he was a very polite guy. “Of course, but honestly, it would be more impressive if you could turn the mattress from where you are.”
Aaron laughed, entering the room as I moved back. “I’ve heard Diego’s speech on consent so many times that it’s getting in my head.”
He strode over and surveyed the heavy mattress, still chatting. “What’d you think of him?”
I hadn’t been able to stop thinking of him—and that night at the party—but I just shrugged. “He seems like a good guy.”
“He really means what he said. If you have any problems, you can go to him.”
“Good to know.” Except what would I do if he was the problem? I still couldn’t believe he didn’t remember me. I sure remembered what he looked like. That dark, shiny hair. Those soulful eyes. That sad mouth, his lips—wait. Why did I think he looked sad? I couldn’t remember exactly why, but somehow that impression stuck with me. What would a good-looking guy like him have to be sad about?