Constructing Us (New Adult Romance) (4 page)

Tragan saw little of Andy over the next few days.  His crew had to put in long hours to finish a remodel in Brighton, and late this afternoon he’d been able to hit Wallets.  They’d only stayed a few hours, because his friends had crapped out early, but Tragan didn’t protest because he’d had an insanely good night and made nine hundred bucks.

Now, a
s he arrived home, he was welcomed by an appetizing aroma and the faint sound of clanking utensils in the kitchen.  He was about to toss his keys and jacket on the sofa as he passed.  Then he remembered the fancy-looking coat rack that Andy had set in the corner at some point, and went back to hang his jacket next to hers.  He shoved his keys in his pocket as he headed to the kitchen, where he found his new roommate bent over the oven door.  Inadvertently, his eyes dropped for a moment.  Damn, that perky butt again.

“
Hey,” he greeted her as she reached for a rectangular glass pan inside the oven.

“Oh, hi
, stranger,” she said amiably, glancing up at him.  “How’s it going?”

“Good.  Here,
you need a hand?” he offered and didn’t wait for her to say yes.

“
Wait, it’s hot!” she warned, handing off the potholders as he took the pan from her.  “Thanks,” she said on a breath. 

“No problem.  W
here do you want this?”

“The table’s fine
.  I’m not in your way here, am I?” she asked, sort of looking around.  Tragan followed her gaze and for the first time noticed that the kitchen looked a mess with bowls, an open bag of flour, a jar of nuts, a bunch of spice jars spread across the counter, and a cookbook with the page being held by a wooden mallet.  He narrowed his eyes, curious. 

Last night when he’d gotten home from work
, her room had been dark.  But he’d found a new covered pan in the fridge.  Now tonight’s feast? He had to wonder what the point was of making all this food, and if Andy actually ate it herself.

Just then he noticed
that her eyes had fallen to the wad of cash he’d tossed on the counter before taking the pan.  “Good night?” she asked.

“Oh.”  He nodded.  “Yeah, I
killed it tonight.”  For some reason he felt an impulse to brag, to impress her by recounting the specifics, like how many times the manager had switched dealers on him, and how they’d tried and failed to rattle him.  But he stopped himself. 

“How did you
r friends do?” Andy said, pulling a metal spatula from the top drawer.

Tragan shrugged. 
“Enh.  Two of them lost their money and one of them only played the slots--then spent all his winnings on a steak.  Hey, all this cooking…are you trying to start a catering company or something?”

“
No, no.  This is my new thing.  Like a creative outlet.”

“Ah,
so you’re an amateur chef?”

“
Um, that’s putting an ambitious spin on it.  I’ll take it!” she said brightly.  Tonight Andy wore pink pajama pants and a yellow tee shirt, both mostly covered by her apron.  Until now Tragan had never realized how adorable a girl in an apron could be.  She really looked cute, especially with her hair in a ponytail and a streak of flour on her cheek.  He resisted the urge to move closer to her and brush it away with his thumb.  He wouldn’t even do that kind of in-your-face move to a girl in a club--just touch her cheek with no segue--so he wasn’t about to assume he should invade his roommate’s personal space after they’d only met a few days ago.

Andy said,
“I cook a lot, I should warn you.  You’re welcome to anything I make.  I usually give most of it away.”

“To who?”

“Mostly my sister, Emma.  She lives in Newton.  Of course it was easier to bring stuff over to her when I lived in Chestnut Hill.”

Tragan was still wrapping his mind around the first part.  “
So wait you go to all this trouble and don’t even eat it yourself?”

“
No, I have some.  You know, I taste it.  Make sure it’s okay.”

“That’s it?”
 

“Well, the truth is…”

For a horrible second he was afraid she’d tell him she was one of those messed-up girls who starved themselves to be thin.  Except she didn’t look skeletal or anything.  Instinctively, his eyes scanned her figure: five-three and slim, with some nice feminine curves. 

“
I don’t know if Ethan told you, but I’m participating in a drug study right now.  It’s kind of messing with my appetite.”

Not sure how to respond, Tragan said
, “Oh.  How come you’re doing that anyway?”

When Andy turned to open the fridge at that exact moment, it almost seemed like she was avoiding eye contact.  “Um, it was just something I heard about,” she said with a shrug as she grabbed a water bottle.  “A doctor I know is running the study and I wanted to help out.”  Before she closed the refrigerator door,
she looked over her shoulder.  “Want one?”

“Yeah, th
anks,” Tragan said, stepping closer to her.  When he took the bottle, his fingers accidentally grazed hers.  She seemed a little startled by it.  She sort of averted her eyes and then sidestepped, letting the fridge door fall shut on its own. 

No longe
r up so close to one another, Tragan felt an almost imperceptible coil of tension in his chest dissolve.

Leaning against the cou
nter now, Andy seemed at ease so apparently the subject of the drug study didn’t bother her.  But she obviously didn’t want to mention her condition--or to admit that participating in the study had anything to do with her health, in particular. 

Going along with that, Tragan nodded casually.  “I understand.”  Then, o
ut of a sudden curiosity--as well as the fact that he didn’t want to leave yet, but wanted to keep talking to her--he asked, “So what do you have to do in the study?”

“Not much,” she answered
after a sip of water, and re-screwed the top.  “Just go three times a week, answer a bunch of questions, sometimes give blood, do a stress test.  It’s pretty boring.”  He pulled a kitchen chair out and sat down.  “Anyway, I’m told appetite loss is a side effect of the drug.”

“
But you love to cook,” he remarked idly.

“Well, it works out
anyway, because my sister’s kids love when I bring them food--they are literally the best taste testers.  Emma has two little boys,” Andy explained.  “Jake and Ben--they’re four and six--and they have loved everything I’ve made so far, even the mistakes.”

“
Hey--
I
could be a taste tester,” Tragan blurted.

“
Yeah?”

Now he grinned at her.  Clearly he was winning in the deal, and
anyone could see that.  “Sure, why not?” he went on.  “I love to eat and I never cook. Boom, done.  Perfect partnership right there.”

“
Okay, well…”  She stepped closer to him, came up beside the table, her legs--he noticed--were only inches from his.  “Would you like to try
this
?”  As she asked, she pulled back the foil covering the hot glass pan he’d set on the table for her. 

“Hell,
yeah.  I just need a fork--”

“And a plate,” she pointed out with a wry look, as if to say,
You weren’t really just going to eat it out of the pan, were you? 

“Right,” he agreed
, turning his chair more toward the table.  “What is it?  It smells awesome.”

“Pecan-crusted trout over orange-scented black rice.”

Tragan paused, jerked his head back.  “Ohh…” he began, trying not to grimace.

“Perfect pa
rtnership hitting a snag already?”

“
It’s just…see, Andy, it smells great and I’m sure it is, but I hate fish.  Literally hate it.  Always have.”

“Really?  Okay, I
didn’t realize.”

Of course not, how could she have? 
Come to think of it, his friends might not even know that about him.  Fish was just something he never ordered when they were out.  Tragan added, “It’s actually a sore point in my family, because my dad was a commercial fisherman for years.”

Andy tilted her head as if she might tease him, and c
rossed her arms, which caused her apron to press tighter against her chest.  That brought Tragan’s attention instantly to her breasts, pushing against the fabric.  Soft, enticing curves…

“I see,
so you were one of those difficult kids growing up, huh?” she said, squinting her pretty blue eyes.  So she
was
teasing him.  In his experience, when men and women teased each other they were often only a step or two away from outright flirting. 

“No, not me,” he said with a grin.  Holding her eye contact, he added, “D
idn’t I already tell you?  Andy, I’m a nice guy...”  Damn, what was he doing right now?  Flirting with her?  Was he really trying to go there? 

She gave a
little laugh, which only made him notice her lips, her whole mouth.  He ignored a sudden bolt of lust and forced an easy smile.  Roommate or not, Andy was very appealing, but it was most likely a bad idea to even contemplate--

Just then
a song began playing.  It startled them both and took a second for Tragan to recognize the tune, though he didn’t know the name of it, off hand.  It was a love song that had been on the radio a lot a year or two ago. 

“Oh, that’s my boyfriend!” Andy yelped suddenly, as if just remembering the ring tone she’d programmed for him.  “I’d better get that,” she ad
ded, flashing a smile at Tragan before darting out of the kitchen.

As he heard Andy’s bedroom door shut and her muffled voice in the background, Tragan sighed to himself--more annoyed than
anything else.  Of course Andy would have a boyfriend.  Why hadn’t he considered that?  She was prime “girlfriend material,” after all.  Friendly, pretty, loved to cook.  He should’ve seen that coming, and all the more reason why attempting to flirt and vibe with his female roommate was a terrible idea. 

Maybe he’d assumed Andy was single because of
basic logic: if she was moving out of her mom’s house, wouldn’t she rather live with her boyfriend than a random guy like him? 

Either way,
Tragan was relieved the issue was settled once and for all. 

Now he stood, went to the counter to scoop up his wad of cash
, and headed toward his room.  Sure he might feel a physical attraction to Andy--and would be prone to flirting if he let his male impulses take over--but now that he knew she wasn’t available, he wouldn’t even let his mind go in that direction.  He barely knew her anyway.  She was good-looking, but so were a lot of girls.  So, done.  Topic over.  It was good to know.

Yet, as he entered hi
s bedroom and tossed his cash on the dresser, he couldn’t quite shake a lingering feeling of disappointment.

Tragan was watching baseball the following evening when he was surprised by a knock at the door.  Andy had been in her room with the door closed since he’d gotten home from work.  When she didn’t emerge, he muted the game and rose to answer it. 

A
blonde guy stood on the other side, wearing a v-neck sweater with a stiff-collared shirt underneath.  He’d been in the middle of scrolling on his phone when Tragan swung the door open. 

“Yeah?” Tragan said.

Obviously finishing a text, the blonde guy finally glanced up.  “Hi,” he said, offering a brief smile.  “I’m here to see Andy.”

Tragan
stepped back, opening the door wider so he could enter.  Was this her boyfriend?  Maybe he was just a friend, like Ethan.  For some reason Tragan hoped that was the case, but didn’t really believe it.  This guy was tall, probably around 6’2”, and looked kind of like a mannequin.  His face was almost too smooth, his expression blank. Was this what Andy went for?  This pretty boy?

Just then
Tragan heard Andy’s door open.  When he saw her step out, he felt an instant pull of attraction and couldn’t help staring for a moment.  She looked especially pretty tonight.  Her hair was almost shiny and looked like soft gold, hanging loosely past her shoulders.  She wore a light blue stretchy top that curved around her breasts and lit up her eyes in the sexiest way. 
God, what’s with me?
Tragan thought, irritated, trying to ignore his reaction to her. 

Except…

Her black pants were form-fitting enough that for an instant he flashed an erotic image of those lean, shapely legs wrapping around him. 

Now her face beamed into a smile
--a smile for Brad.

“Hi!  I’m ready,” she told him
breezily. 

“
Hi, gorgeous,” Brad said, leaned over and gave her a peck on the cheek.  “I was just meeting your roommate here.”

“Right, hi.  Tragan,” Tragan said,
introducing himself.

The blonde guy shook his hand. 
“Dr. Brad Trewell.  Nice to meet you.  So, Tragan, Andy says you’ve been very easy to live with.  I have to thank you for that.”  He spoke affably enough so Tragan didn’t want to dislike him.  Still, he found himself sort of bothered by the guy.  Maybe it pissed him off that he felt the need to introduce himself as “Dr. Brad.”  That seemed pretentious as hell.  Or maybe--more likely--Tragan felt a stab of envy.  Everyone knew doctors were rich and beating off the ladies with their stethoscopes.  And this one got Andy.

For some reason, Br
ad felt the need to add, “I’m a resident at St. Catherine’s Hospital--vascular surgery.  What do you do?”

Andy
interrupted.  “Brad, I told you, Tragan works in construction.  He builds things, right?” she said, smiling warmly at Tragan. 

“Oh, that’s right,
” Brad said, touching his forehead with reproach, then giving a smooth smile.  “I must have forgotten.”

Bullshit he forgot. 
Tragan figured that Brad just wanted to call the cards on the table, right here, right now.  To lay it out in front of Andy how the two men measured up.  Asking about Tragan’s job was certainly a subtler way to go about it than asking what kind of car he drove or how much he banked last year. 

Brad’s phone chimed;
he held up a finger.  “Just a second.” He read, scrolled and typed--then read, scrolled and typed.  Finally he slid the phone back into his pocket.  “Sorry about that.  Well, Andy we should get going.  I have eight o’clock reservations at
La Vie En Rose
.”  Amiably he asked Tragan, “Ever been?”

“No.”

“Oh, it’s terrific.  On Newbury Street. The duck is phenomenal.”

“Great,” Tragan replied flatly.

“Okay, we should go,” Andy spoke up. 

Brad nodded, taking her hand.  “And the movie starts at ten.” 

As Brad led her to the door, Andy glanced back at
Tragan, gave a short wave.  “See you later.  Have a good night.”

“I’ll get the door.”  He followed close behind and
caught a trace of her scent as she reached up for her coat.  Her perfume was so enticing and feminine, it almost made him hard. 

Just g
reat
, Tragan thought, shaking his head as he turned the lock and went back around to the couch.  Now he was getting horny over his female roommate who already had a boyfriend.  Just effing great. 

He shook the feeling
off, picked up the remote and un-muted the game.

~

Andy turned her key and pushed open the door with a sigh.  She felt a headache coming on, but hoped it would level off with some Advil and not explode into a migraine.  She was home much earlier than she expected, having bailed on the movie, figuring it would only make her headache worse.  Brad was very understanding, of course.  She was constantly impressed--and a little confused, to be honest--by Brad’s even-keeled and sanguine approach to her. 

They’d shared a tender kiss outside her building when he’
d dropped her off and now she fully planned to rest.

However, as she walked through the entry way of the apartment, a sudden image
stopped her short.  Literally, jerked her to a halt.  Made “rest” the farthest idea from her mind.  Her breath quickened, her mouth fell open.  Diagonally across the living room was Tragan’s open bathroom door.  And Tragan, standing in front of his sink, stark naked.  Clearly he’d just come out of the shower, as he was rubbing his hair roughly with a towel, unaware that Andy was home and watching him. 

Her heart began to pound. 

If she’d been thinking about it, she would have been ashamed by how blatantly she was checking Tragan out.  But for now, she couldn’t seem to tear her eyes away.  Her gaze wandered down his body, taking in every detail.  His shoulders, his arms, his smooth back, his muscular, hairy legs…  But the most entrancing feature right now, which her eyes kept returning to, was Tragan’s smooth, firm, perfectly proportioned ass.

Licking her lips, she swallowed against the tightness in her throat, trying to understand her overreaction. 
Of course she’d been attracted to men before, particularly Brad, but she didn’t recall ever feeling this instantly turned on by the sight of a naked male body.  Even as heat swelled between her legs, she forced herself to stop looking--and to hurry quietly back to the entry way.  This was crazy; he could turn to leave the bathroom any second.  If he caught her silently ogling him, how mortified she would be!

She
opened and loudly shut the front door.  Then she made a point to rattle her keys and click her heels hard on the floor as she walked, giving Tragan plenty of warning. 

When she passed the entry way, she saw that his bathroom door was now closed over. 
Relieved, she put a hand to her heart, which was beating crazy hard and fast.  That was close! 
What has gotten into me tonight?
was her first thought. 

Her second was:
Wait, my headache is practically gone
. She hadn’t even taken anything for it yet.  Could the endorphins caused by acute, spontaneous lust cure a headache?  Was that medically possible?  Well, she wasn’t about to ask Brad that one.

Admittedly, she’d thought
Tragan was sort of cute when she first met him.  And maybe she’d felt the
faintest
stirrings of something the other night when he’d swaggered into the kitchen with his casino winnings and they’d begun talking.  But it was all very innocent, just boy-girl stuff. 
This
was different. This was sexual attraction--strong and undeniable.

N
ot
literally
undeniable, of course, since she didn’t plan to do anything about the feeling except ignore it.  

Suddenly the bathroom door opened and Tragan emerged
, now with his towel wrapped around his waist.  Now that he was facing her, she had the full view.  She tried not to stare as her eyes coasted over his shirtless upper body.  Black hair lightly fanned across his chest and trailed down his stomach.  His arms were muscular, and the tattoo on his right bicep seemed more prominent when he was naked.  She still couldn’t make out what it was a tattoo of, though.

The lust she’d just vowed to suppress sprung back. 

When she realized her mouth was running dry, she swallowed hard, nervously licked her lips.  He looked strong and solid, but not rippling like a gym-rat with washboard abs.  No, Tragan’s whole body looked thick and powerful, but in a natural way that probably came from his line of work, not as part of a vanity project.

“
Hey,” he said to her across the living room, “you’re home early.  Do you feel okay?”

“Oh, yes, I’m fine
,” she managed.  “Just have a slight headache.”  As she started walking toward her room, she realized…Wait.  He’d asked if she felt okay.  Did that mean he knew?  She stopped, turned toward him.  “Ethan told you, didn’t he?”

Tragan paused, looking momentarily unsure. 

“About the Bronsteg,” she stated bluntly.

“Oh.  Yeah
, well, he mentioned that you’ve had some medical sh--stuff.  He didn’t get into detail or anything.” 

She didn
’t quite believe him.  Damn it, she wanted others to see her not as a sick person but just as a regular girl.  And she hadn’t even felt sick for almost three months now.  “I feel fine,” she told him.  “Plus, Brad thinks this new drug could be the answer,” she added, trying to sound convincing.  So far her work with the drug study hadn’t done anything to help, but whatever.  “Please, I don’t even want you to worry about me, okay?”  Only after she said that did she realize how abrupt and defensive it sounded.

Tragan
gave a nonchalant shrug, which oddly reassured her.  “No worries,” he said casually, before continuing to his bedroom, adjacent to the bathroom.

Andy let out a sigh as she slipped off her heels and carried them to her own room.

Hadn’t Ethan told her that Tragan only cared about himself?  At this point she could see her friend was exaggerating.  Tragan Barrett was obviously not a heartless guy.  However, if Ethan was at least half-right, it would actually be just as well.  The more self-centered Tragan was, the less Andy would have to deal with his sympathy or concern.  And the last thing she wanted was his pity, because she liked him--as a potential friend, that was all.