Thinking I must be going crazy and am hearing things, I press my ear up against the door. I hear nothing for a moment, but then a grunt echoes from the bathroom and I hear my name once more. Knox sighs, and a moment later, the water turns off. Holy shit. Was he just doing what I think he was doing? Oh, god. I’ve got to get out of here before he catches me. Shit, shit, shit. I scamper down the hallway, leaving the godforsaken list behind, and I run out the front door and to my car. I don’t even take the time to put on my seatbelt before I start the car and peel out of the driveway, praying to anyone who will listen that he didn’t catch me.


IT’S BEEN four hours since I nearly caught Knox masturbating, and I’m still in shock. I swear I heard him yelling out my name, but when I realized what he was doing, it made no sense. Well, then again, maybe it did. He did tell me this morning that he liked me in his clothes, but I figured that was just another one of his hot/cold moments. I’m pretty sure Katy Perry wrote that song just for him, and I can’t help sing the lyrics in my head.

The thought of him actually thinking about me while jacking off… It makes me want to race back to his place and throw myself at him, but I refuse to do that. Instead, I headed to the gym to work off some steam, thankful I had workout clothes from Lucy’s already in my car.

Sparring with Kale did nothing to calm my nerves. I was too on edge to concentrate. He kicked my ass twice and even commented that I seemed off. I just can’t stop thinking about what I heard. There’s something seriously sexy about hearing a man groan your name when he’s working himself over, but I have to wonder, why me? Obviously there’s an unspoken attraction between us, but is he really that into me that he’s thinking of me while he’s doing it? And if so, why doesn’t he just making a freaking move already? All I know is that I’m more confused than ever, so I try not to think about it anymore. But I know that until I get home and take care of myself in the same fashion he did, I’m not going to be able to get it off my mind.

I’m now wandering around the local supermarket, trying to remember what was on that damn list when I suddenly hear my name, and I freeze in my tracks.

“Charlotte,” a deep voice behind me calls. Turning around, I spot Drew, and to be honest, he looks terrible. Other than random sightings on campus, this is the first time I’ve seen him since that day in his office, and it’s the first time I’ve seen him up close. His black hair is unusually long, and he looks tired, with dark circles under his eyes. He’s always been lean, but his cheeks look sunken in, as if he hasn’t been eating enough. The part of me that loved him wants to reach out and stroke his face, but the other side keeps replaying the vision of him fucking another woman. I bet you can guess which side wins out.

Ignoring him, I try to make myself look busy as I inspect the cantaloupe, trying to find the perfect one to take home and cut up. His hand touches my arm, and I yank it away, glaring up at him. His sad expression cools me down, and I stand up straight, bagging the fruit.

“Hello, Drew,” I tell him in a monotone voice that makes him grimace.

He nervously fingers the oranges in the produce section in front of him, and I raise my eyebrows at him. I know it’s produce and you’re supposed to wash it, but people touching every piece of fruit has always bugged the shit out of me and he knows it. He places his hands in his pockets and just looks at me.

“Umm, I’ve tried getting ahold of you. I even called your dad,” he says, looking forlorn, and I notice that I no longer feel the pull towards him like I used to. Just a few months ago, I’d find myself searching campus just for a glimpse at him, but now that he’s in front of me, I want nothing more than to be anywhere else.

“Oh, well, um, I’ve been busy. You know, work, volunteering, moving. It’s been a crazy couple of months, you know.”

Wincing, he takes his hand out of his pocket as he moves towards me. He slides the free hand around my waist and to the small of my back, pulling me into him. In a moment of weakness, I allow him to press his forehead to mine, and I can feel his minty breath on my skin. The familiarity of this embrace sends a shot straight to my heart, and I want to wrap my arms around him yet push him away at the same time.

“Charlotte, baby, I love you. I fucked up so badly, and I wish I could take it back. I’m lost without you. Fucking lost. Please, let me show you that I mean it. I can’t live without you. Say you’ll give me—give us—another chance,” he whispers, his eyes pleading into mine.

Shaking my head, I break away from his embrace. I could easily throw my arms around his neck, declare my love, and go about planning my wedding. But it wouldn’t be real. I love Drew, I really do. But I will never trust him, and I can’t build a relationship, let alone a marriage, without trust.

Looking into his eyes one last time, I pull myself away from him completely, but it’s not easy. If he’d have said these things to me before, I might have relented and let him back in, but at the time I was too angry to even look at him. Angry that he took what was supposed to be a life-lasting bond built on love and trust and threw it away for a quick fuck. Angry that I spent years with a man who turned out to be nothing but a disappointment. Angry that I came so close to making the biggest mistake of my life. Now that I’ve had the time to process the emotions of his betrayal, the anger and hurt have faded, leaving me feeling thankful. I know that sounds weird, but you know the old saying, “A leopard never changes his spots”? I’m not saying I think Drew will always be a cheater, but there was a reason, whatever the hell it was, that I wasn’t enough for him. He did us both a favor when he decided to sleep with someone else, and even though I’ll never forget what he did to me, I do hope that he finds someone who can be his everything.

“It’s too late for excuses, Drew. Besides, I’m kind of seeing someone.” I have no idea why I just lied to him, but maybe he’ll leave me alone if he thinks I’ve moved on. Wishful thinking, right?

His jaw tightens as he frowns at me. Leaning down, he gives me a kiss on the cheek. “I’m not giving up on us, Charlie. I never will.” And with that, he turns around and leaves me alone and slightly flustered in the aisle to process what just happened.


AFTER SEEING Drew, I made a special trip to the wine section and loaded up. Hey, if you buy a case, they give you ten percent off. Why pass up a good bargain? I’m finally heading back to Knox’s place—or well, I guess our place now. I don’t have to be out of Lucy’s apartment for another week, but she’s been getting her fill of Kale before she leaves, so I’ve decided to go ahead and start staying with him so she can have her privacy. And so I don’t have to wear earplugs every night.

At this point, I’m just ready to throw my things in the guest room and settle in on the couch with a huge glass of wine. I’ve been sexually charged from the moment I woke up with Knox, and after hearing him groaning my name in the shower, I felt like I could explode with one touch. But now, after seeing Drew, I’m feeling a jumbled mess of emotions I don’t even want to begin to explore. Tonight I’m just going to relax and not think about any of it. At least that’s what I keep telling myself as I gather up the bags and make my way towards the house.

This time Knox doesn’t come outside, which is fine since I only have a duffel bag, a couple of grocery sacks, and the two six-divider bags that are holding the wine. I have to lean my shoulder against the door and try to open it with my knee, but it’s not working. As soon as I’m about to set the bags down, the door opens and the duffel bag is pulled from my arms.

“Dammit, Charlie, I still have one good arm, you know. You don’t have to do it all on your own,” he says, scowling at me. Oh great, Grump Con 2013 is again in full effect.

I roll my eyes at him. “I’m not a willowy, wimpy woman, for your information. I think I can handle a few grocery bags. Jesus, what is it with you thinking I’m so weak?” I ask him, but without waiting for an answer, I head towards the kitchen to put the perishable items away. Everything else can wait as I scour his kitchen for a wine opener, finally finding one in the last drawer I look in.

I uncork the red wine, and after finding a couple of wine glasses, I pour an ample amount for myself. I take a sip and relish the dry, full-bodied taste on my tongue. Swallowing, I moan, more than happy to feel the liquid flow down my throat after this very strange day. I hear a throat clear, and I open my eyes to see Knox leaning against the refrigerator, wearing nothing but a pair of low-rising basketball shorts. He’s watching me intently before he surprises me by closing the distance between us. I’m backed up against the counter, and he places his hands on each side of me.

“I thought we were going to talk, roomie,” he whispers, one finger brushing the bangs out of my face. I shudder under his touch.

Gulping, I take a huge drink of merlot. “Umm…talk? About what?” I ask him, my mind drawing a blank, even though the thought sounds familiar.

He chuckles as his hand moves from my hair and traces my jawline. “Are you really that forgetful?” And it comes back to me. Oh, right. Remembering that he wanted to have a conversation about being roommates, I groan before taking another drink of my wine.

Grinning at me, he pushes off the counter. He moves to the island where I left the wine and a second glass, and he pours himself one. After opening another bottle, he grabs his glass and the two open bottles and motions for me to join him in the living room. I follow silently, knowing we have to get this over with.

For once he sits on the couch and not in the recliner, and when I look at him, he motions to the spot next to him. I follow, placing my wine on the coffee table next to his.

He turns off the TV and looks at me. “Here’s the thing. If we’re going to be roommates, we probably should get to know each other a little bit, don’t you think?” he asks.

I nod, agreeing.

“Adult twenty questions? We can both ask each other any question, and we can either answer or take a drink to plead the Fifth? Sound good?” he proposes.

I nod. “Sure, that works fine for me. You go first,” I tell him, taking a big gulp of wine, trying to flood my veins with liquid courage.

“We’ll start out easy. How old are you, Charlie?” he asks, and I let out the breath that I was holding, not having expected such an easy question.

“I’m twenty-seven. I’ll be twenty-eight in December. How about you?”

“Twenty-nine. Closing in on thirty,” he says, his brows furrowing as if turning thirty would be some horrible disaster. Do guys actually care about things like that?

I giggle as I take another sip of wine before setting it down on the coffee table. “Oh, yes, Knox, you’re getting soooo old,” I tease him, poking him in the arm.

He grabs my finger and grips it, holding it tight. Bringing it to his lips, he gives it a soft kiss. I’m momentarily dazed at his tenderness, but then he winks at me and opens his mouth. “Now you’ll always be able to say you’ve been kissed by an old man.”

I snatch my wine back up and take my finger back from him, but not before I let my fingernail scratch his lip, causing him to swear.

“Okay, let’s talk about personal stuff later. Let’s get this rent business out of the way, okay? I feel guilty already staying here without having an agreement.”

“Here’s the thing, Charlie. I really don’t need your money. You’re already helping me out, so I wouldn’t feel right charging you rent. Now, if you want to do other favors, I can think of a few forms of payment that are deemed acceptable,” he tells me, winking.

Grabbing the pillow next to me, I throw it at his face. I have no idea if he’s teasing or if he’s serious, but when he knocks the pillow away, his gorgeous smile greets me playfully and I can’t help but smile back at him, not able to hold the fake glare I was trying to muster.

“Jesus, woman, I was kidding! But seriously, just chip in for groceries and we’re even.”

I shake my head. “No freaking way, Knox. This started out as a volunteer assignment. If I move in here and you don’t let me pay because I’m helping you, then that would mean you’re basically paying for my services and I’m not just volunteering them. Even though you’re not exactly paying me in cash, you’re still providing something in exchange for my help, and that just doesn’t sit well with me. I can’t and I won’t do that. I’m probably already crossing the line by even agreeing to do this. So if I’m going to stay here, you need to figure out what you want to charge me or else I can just leave now.” I’m wishing I’d used a different choice of words, but he surprises me when he lets my services comment go.