2B or Not 2B (Roomies Series) (19 page)

"I don't know, Byron," I whispered, my throat closing up with the nervous energy growing up so fast that it was going to make me dizzy.

With two fingers on my chin, he tilted my head up, and I re-opened my eyes, zeroed in on his eyes of a blue so deep that I was sure I'd drown in them if I wasn't careful. "Why don't you call me Lord anymore?" he asked me softly, his voice embracing me. My heart stalled for a couple of seconds before it hammered again.

"I don't know," I repeated. My eyes were starting to sting as I was losing the last guard on the path to my heart. Just because he was there, in front of me looking at me like no guy had ever looked at me
―like he cared about me in a special way. But that was all a trick of my mind because I wanted some kind of reassurance that I wasn't the only one getting lost in this thing between us.

He brought his mouth to my right ear, his soft lips brushing the shell of my ear
, and I shivered. His fingers glided from my chin to behind my head, trailing a tingling path in their wake. Goosebumps appeared on my skin. Everywhere. Everywhere I wanted him to touch me and kiss me. "Does it bother you when I call you Bridge?"

I bowed into him as another shiver assaulted me. My breasts touched his firm chest
, and I had to bite the inside of my cheek to not sigh in pleasure. I shook my head. "I like it."

He brushed his whisker
s against my cheek, and I wanted to purr. I wanted to freaking purr like a cat! What had gotten into me? "Good." He kissed my temple, took a deep breath as if he was trying to imprint myself into him; another trick of my mind for sure. "Because for me you're my fucking bridge back to a life I thought I would never be good enough to have, a life I thought I shouldn't be the one living."

"Why shouldn't you be the one living it?" I pulled back just a little bit
, and the connection broke. The spell was forgotten as Byron was building back all of his walls, slamming me out. I could almost hear him building them back up and securing them with the best lock in the world. But I needed to know. I wanted to understand him and his words even if it was useless. And if I should be honest with myself, his words worried me. "What happened to you in Afghanistan?"

If I thought he was closed off before, it was nothing. He stepped away from me, putting enough distance between us that we could put a giant basketball player lying between us. He closed his hands into strong fists, lethal looking. "Ground rule number—‘’

I brought a hand up and silenced him. "I know these fucking ground rules, but you know everything about me, Byron. Why don't you tell me?"

"Because it hurts! Fuck!" he yelled, his eyes moist with unshed tears. He turned away from me
, and I faced his broad back. His labored breaths, and the sobs menacing to break free, broke my heart. What happened to him? What awful things did he have to go through?

"Byron
…"

He turned back around, his eyes so hard that I took another step back. But his eyes weren't just hard and dark, they were also red from the tears he forced back down with his unyielding determination that was
, at times, maddening; but I was also starting to envy it.

"You want to know? Fine!" he said in a cold voice ringing low in the apartment, but the tone of his voice and the rumble in it made it echo into me. I could feel his voice in every cell
of my body. "Our humvee was blown up by a fucking mine. Two of my friends died. The other one was executed in front of me." His breathing got even louder to the point that I was afraid he'd collapse. But I was underestimating him. At this instant, as he was laying it all down, so harshly and without embellishment, I was blown away by the nightmare he went through, and what he had to live with every day. "I had his fucking blood all over me, in my mouth, and my leg was broken. I couldn't move." He took a break and ran a finger along his scar, a scar I now knew exactly how he got. "These fucking crazies took me and kept me captured for two weeks." I shook my head. I didn't want to hear more. I … I didn't want to imagine that. No, not to him. But his eyes were still on me, not moving, not blinking. It was like he was challenging me to turn around and leave him as he was baring himself to me. "They tortured me and were about to kill me when I was rescued. My parents and my brother thought I was dead. Is that what you wanted to hear?" His last question was whispered with a broken voice. I saw the tremblings in his strong body that I had never seen betray him.

I took a step toward him when he shook his head. I froze before taking the second one. He didn't want me to comfort him or show him my support. He was on board whenever it was about a wicked game of seduction, but never when it was meant to
have a more emotional meaning. There was a breach between us I couldn't step over because I might be his bridge to some parts of his life, but I wasn't the bridge to his heart. Even when I was feeling so bad knowing what he was dealing with, I couldn't imagine the full impact of it all on his life, in his head and how he saw himself.

Was it the reason why he didn't want love in his life? Was it because he felt like he shouldn't be the one alive when his friends died in front of him? Was it because he didn't think he was worth it? Was it because sex was easier
when it was void of emotion? Or was it even simpler? Because sex was a stress reliever, something that would ease his mind for a little while just enough to go further without losing his oh-so-dear control.

In that case, where did I fit?

"I just want to know you," I replied softly, my voice rougher than usual. Everything in me that was bubbly, and even carefree, vanished with his story, a story that wasn't retold from someone else or heard on TV. No, it was something someone I knew very well went through, and it crumbled something in me. Was it the last dumb teenager part of me that died? Maybe.
Damn it! He had been tortured
. I had a hard time swallowing the bile rising up and keeping down the chocolate cake I ate earlier.

"You know how I fuck. That's enough." And just like that, he switched off his emotions, showing just the cold jerk he could be when needed
, not showing everything inside him that was eating at him.

I snorted and walked past him. This talk was over. "At least now I really know why you want me to stay. Easy vagina access." I didn't look around because I didn't need to. He was complicated and dealing with his past wasn't something he wanted to do with someone else there to bear it with him. Fine. But he wouldn't bring me into an argument just to divert his attention and thoughts. I wouldn't be that girl.

I closed my bedroom door and leaned against it. This roller coaster of emotions was aging me. In the middle of all this mess, all this pain, what Byron told me finished the work. I was falling for him, hard and so very fast that it couldn't end well.

Then, I heard a loud sound. He punched the wall. Twice.

A tear fell from my left eye. And then from the right.
Two
.

Chapter Twenty-One

DAY 47

Waking up the next morning felt exactly like I had a hangover. Though, this time it wasn't with the perks of having had alcohol. Nope! I had an awful headache, my body was painful everywhere
, and my mouth tasted nasty just because I had barely two hours of sleep. I groaned for the third time in a row as I put on my favorite jeans—the kind I had worn so many times that the denim felt soft and holes were starting to appear on my ass.

The cold shower didn't do much for my foggy brain. I checked myself in the mirror
—I didn't trust myself at the moment—it would be so easy to end up in front of people with clothes put on upside down or with my underwear in full display as if it was some kind of invitation. And I wasn't ready to invite anybody. I was in dire need of a dry spell for a while.

I opened the bathroom door and froze when I saw Byron with Eliott. When they both looked at me, only one of the two was glad to see me. Byron glared at me and walked back to his bedroom. I shook my head and stepped to Eliott. Without hesitating, he hugged me tightly.

It was nice―after all, who wouldn't like to be pressed against a young and handsome soldier―but I was quite uneasy after everything that happened. I chuckled softly and hugged him back.

He released me with a sad smile and a spark in his eyes I preferred not to think about too much. From how things went downhill, I was pretty sure he wouldn't have been against giving a shot at a relationship with me, but I wasn't even able to sleep with him
. So a relationship …

My cheeks heated
, and he laughed at me, his drawl of a voice still as sinful as the first time I heard it. "I wanted to say good-bye."

My smile faded
. Even my cheeks lost the blasting heat I felt seconds ago. "What? Already? But I thought you still had a few days!" My voice was rising at an alarming decibel. Eliott was already leaving to go back God-knows-where. The day after Byron told me a tiny part of what he had to go through; and now Eliott was about to leave and maybe never to return? Seriously?

"I lied," he said with a shrug, a little smile tugging at his thin lips. He ran a hand in his short
, curly hair that would soon be buzzed like Byron kept his. "I didn't want all the drama that goes on whenever a soldier leaves. Today I'm saying goodbye, and tomorrow Byron will drive me to the airport. Easy, as painless as possible, and fast."

These guys were another species entirely. I never understood guys, but soldier
s were on a whole other level of weirdness for little old me. This reality check that started yesterday was beginning to rub me the wrong way. What would happen next? Macon will tell me he's leaving with his cowboy for a farm far-off in Texas? I snorted at imagining Macon on a farm. That would be quite hilarious. What wasn't though was Eliott standing in front of me, saying good-bye.

I opened my arms
, and he smiled, hugging me again. He put his shaved cheek against my temple, and I inhaled his outdoorsy smell, like he went to the ocean before stopping by. "You're really a different girl." Hearing the smile in his voice, made me smile, too.

I released him, but kept one hand on his arm. I needed to feel him still there before he left. "And I'm proud
of it."

He put a hand over mine and squeezed softly. He shook his head and laughed. "You should be. I'm glad I met you."

It was hard to say good-bye. I never mastered it. The last time I said good-bye to someone was last summer when my Grandma Shelby went back to her place in London, and I was a blubbery mess for one hour afterward. Just like a three-year-old. "Me too, Eliott. Be careful over there." I choked, trying to diffuse his attention by punching him lightly on his shoulder.

"I'll be but
… I don't know what's going on between you and Byron, but be nice to him." He glanced at Byron's door still closed. "You don't know what happened to him in Afghanistan. He's not the same anymore. I don't know how you do it, but you bring back a part of him I thought was lost. So don't hurt him."

"He's a big guy," I said dismissively, not ready to let him know that, in fact, I knew what happened to him. I didn't want to talk about Byron with Eliott, not after the masquerade we made to let my roommate think that we had sex together. And
for what? Just because I was freaking jealous of the girls he was shagging just after he had me in his bed. Yeah, I was finally seeing the light, and I acknowledged that I had been jealous. That's not pretty, but that was the truth.

"London."

I waved him off. "Don't worry about him or me. In less than two weeks, I'll move away, so I don't see what can happen." Yes, new changes. I will move out, but I will wait for the end of my trial time here. That way, Byron won't be able to guilt me into staying. After all, he didn't need me.

Eliott chuckled and brushed away a lock of hair. "With you two? Way too much.’’

I groaned and let him hug me one last time before he called Byron to leave. They had friends to see. Byron walked out of his room, not even once looking at me as he followed his best friend out of the apartment. The last thing I saw of the two guys was Eliott slapping Byron behind the head.

My chest tightened.
Please, make Eliott come home safe.

* * *

DAY 47

I threw my laptop on my bed and put my head in my hands. I couldn't work on this any longer. I loved my law classes to pieces, but there was
only so much a girl could take. I worked on this paper for three hours straight! And the paper wasn't even due for a couple of weeks. I decided to work on it when I heard Byron was back and in the living room. I wasn't exactly ready to face him after what happened yesterday and how he must feel, as his best friend was about to go back to a place that held so many awful memories for him. I wasn’t a coward, but I wasn't made to deal with tough things. I would never know where to start or what to say or not say. Words could hurt, even when it wasn't your intent.

At one point, though, it was obvious that I couldn't hide in there for the rest of my life. For example, I was starting to
get hungry, and I never joked around about food. I straightened up, and left my hiding hole with heavy footsteps.

Two steps in the living room, he turned away from the TV
—
was he really watching Harry Potter and the Goblet of Fire?
—to look at me intently. There wasn't anger or resentment in his eyes. Seeing only nervousness blazing in his clear blue eyes, I relaxed. My whole body went almost limp. A little more, and I'd have to limp to the couch.

He nodded at the space next to him on the couch, so very close to his body always so warm and enticing. I fidgeted from one foot to the other until his scornful look convinced me to sit next to him. It wasn't like he was asking me to sit on his lap after all.

"How are you?" I wanted to slap myself. "I mean, with Eliott leaving and everything …" I trailed off. I squirmed and focused on Harry Potter swimming in the lake at Hogwarts for one of the tasks of the Triwizard Tournament. I might read some smut, but that didn't mean I didn't know my childhood classics.

He shrugged and turned down the sound. His eyes were on the TV, but I wasn't sure that he was truly watching it. "I want to re-enlist." His voice was so soft that I must have heard him wrong. My heart was hammering, though. I was freaking out.

"You want to go back? But I thought you wanted to graduate and try the FBI?" I asked in hurt words, barely articulating as many, so many, thoughts were colliding in my head. My hands shook on my knees. My feet tapped the floor nervously. And my eyes were deciphering his face that looked so pale that you would think he was ill. I grabbed his chin and turned his head toward me with force. I didn't care if I hurt him; I didn't care that I was breaking one of my rules―no touching―I was desperate. What was this thing with these guys who all wanted to take the big guns? If I hadn't seen Byron naked, I'd think it was an inferiority complex and he needed to prove his male status, but that wasn't the case. He was very well… oh, shit! His dick was big, thick, and made to pleasure women.
That was said. Or thought.
"Explain. Now."

He pushed my hand away, but didn't try to hide his eyes and face from my perusal. No, in fact he wanted me to see how serious he was. "I'm a soldier. I enlisted and because I got hurt I didn't finish my last tour. I want to go back."

I knew Eliott's impending departure would mess with his head, but I never imagined that it would lead him to think that his duty was to go back there. He got shot and tortured! That was enough for his duty in my book.

"Please, Byron! We both know you're not ready." I held up both hands in front of me. I was at a loss. What should I do to open his eyes? I would shake him senseless if only it would do any good.

"Because you know me so well." He snorted and went to turn the sound of the TV back on. My hand shot out and grabbed the remote before he blinked and even before I realized what I had just done. After all, my hand didn't have a mind of its own, last time I checked.

I leaned closer to his face, ready to punch him with my words. "I know you well enough to be aware of your insomnia, of your obsession
with the news, and to realize you're still a short fuse; it's dangerous. You could get yourself killed because of your temper."

"I've always been a short fuse." He dismissed it with a shrug.
Hearing him, you would think he was talking about the weather, and a sunny kind of weather at that, not a cloudy weather that announced a vicious and furious tempest.

"So
, you want to ignore the fact that you're still not ready to really face what happened to you?"

His lips turned up on one side of his mouth as his eyes took a harsher spark to them. I steeled myself, ready for him to turn around the table. That was what he did whenever he was cornered. "Just like you don't want to face what happened between us. Twice."

I pulled back and cleared my throat. I locked down all of my feelings, ignored my hammering heart, the butterflies in my stomach, and the boulder in my throat. "I don't see why I should if you're going back there. I'm not like my sister, ready to open my heart to someone who is about to leave for months and might never come back. I'm too selfish to take that risk." I wanted to make it sound resolute, strong and unyielding, but it ended by sounding weak and sad. Almost pleading.

"Does that mean that you actually feel something for me?" he asked me, his voice serious
, cautious even.

I shook my head vehemently. I betrayed myself. "What I mean is that I don't see why we should talk about something so insignificant if you're going back there."

His face hardened, and he stood up. He looked down at me, his eyes not disclosing what he was thinking, and it was for the best. My lies were shattering me on the inside, and one word from him could squash me more. I might have hurt his male ego by talking about all of this that way, but it couldn't go deeper. Granted, he cared about me as a potential friend, as his roommate, but that was all. He would not settle down any time soon, and when it did finally happen, it wouldn’t be with a girl like me.

"Would you miss me?"

I stood up and nodded, my eyes downcast. "Do you really want a pussy kind of talk now?" I tried to joke, but my heart was heavy in my chest. I didn't sound like myself. Just a few weeks ago when I was with Byron, I could talk that way and bounce away. Today, I wouldn't be able to bounce. I was devoid of my buzzing energy, and left with only a shell of sadness and fear. I felt almost like how I felt when Ryan told me off at my high school graduation ceremony. But this time, my heart wasn't getting numb. It was more alive to feel every painful hit, and it hurt badly.

"You didn't just say that," he replied with a small laugh before he hugged me, taking me by surprise. Every time, his hugs
did things to me, made me feel things that I knew I shouldn't feel, that I knew would hurt me in the end. Maybe what they say wasn't that far off. The heart wanted what the heart wanted. Love couldn't be mastered or disciplined. Love was untamed, passioned and overtook even the most reluctant people. I was a prime example, and unfortunately, I would soon be the next victim of the consequences. "Tell me you understand that I have to re-enlist."

With my head in the crook of his neck and my lips on his skin, I felt him shiver
, and goosebumps appeared all over my body in reply. I didn't try to put some space between us. I didn't want any space, not when he might be going back in the army and I would not see him for a while, or ever. I needed to remember what it felt like to be so close to him, to be against him, and have his heat embracing me. I had to remember how I felt safe in his strong arms and yet very much so vulnerable. And frightened.

"I can't. Nobody is asking that of you, not after what you had to go through. You did enough for this country and abroad."

His arms around me tightened, and I was so plastered against him that my feet almost left the ground. His hand was on the small of my back, treading dangerously close to my ass, and the other one was behind my head to keep me there. I was as close to him as I could be while still fully clothed. "Eliott is going back. My brother will go there." He brushed his nose along my jaw, and I shivered, shook even in his arms. "I know people that are still there."