I hate, hate, hate that I want it to be.
“Make yourself at home, and if you want to lock the door go ahead. I’ll be back in a couple of hours,” he says and disappears through the door, closing it tightly behind him, without telling me where he’s going. I sit there for a minute, my brain racing, trying to figure out what’s going on, when my phone pings.
I slide off the bed, grab my backpack, and fish it out to find a text from Kaitlyn.
Call me when you get a chance. I want all the deets on his room, mainly his bed.
I can’t help but expel a somewhat nervous laugh as I hit the video contact for a face-to-face chat. She comes into view, her eyes wide, excited.
“Tell me everything. Actually, show me.”
I grin at her enthusiasm, and while I should be mad, I’m in this predicament because of her—and Christian—I can’t seem to muster up the anger.
“There’s nothing to tell,” I say casually. “I came here, fell asleep for a bit, and then iced my ankle.” I set the phone beside me, and tug on my sock. I reach for my boot, pull open the liner, and pump the balloon to the proper tension. Once it’s secure, I snatch my phone back up. “Christian isn’t even here.” I’d never hear the end of it if I told her Christian iced my ankle, or describe in detail what his touch did to my body.
“Did Hot Stuff nap with you?”
“Really, Kaitlyn, we’re going there?”
Her face goes serious. “Are you okay, Maize? You look…I don’t know…upset about something.” She puckers her lips, her eyes narrowing as she brings the phone closer to her face.
I frown at her. “Of course I’m upset. I can’t run anymore. Broken ankle, remember?”
She goes quiet, pensive, and I almost reverse the camera because I don’t like the way she’s studying me. “No, there’s something else. You and I both know running was a means to an end, and that’s been taken away, but with Christian, your tuition is covered, so what’s up?” She taps her chin, and continues to study me.
“I’m not used to such luxury,” I tell her. “This place is posh with a capital P. I don’t think I belong here.”
“I’ve been in Wolf House before, but I’ve never been upstairs. Never say you don’t belong. You belong in a castle, my friend.” I grin, loving how she always has my back.
“I’m not Cinderella, Christian is no Prince Charming, and this is no fairy tale.”
She shrugs me off. “Show me around his room.”
“No, I’m not snooping.”
She makes an irritated tsking sound. “How is it snooping if he brought you to his place and left you there to fend for yourself?”
“Fend for myself? I haven’t been taken to the forest and left to survive on my own.”
“Like Snow White?”
“You need to live in this reality, my friend.”
“Still, he left you in a house full of wolves. You’re prey, Maize.”
I laugh. “No worries, I’m tucked in his room. It’s not kill or be killed.”
“Do you mean eat or be eaten, like Little Red Riding Hood,” she says with a sassy smirk that makes me laugh out loud.
I cover my mouth, hoping no one burst in to see what the excitement is all about. “Do you have to make everything about sex?”
She angles her head. “Ooh, who says I was?” She points a finger at me. “I was simply making a point, you’re the one who put a sexual spin on it.”
Maybe she’s right. Maybe my brain is thinking about sex because I’m in Christian’s bedroom, and the scent from his blankets on my skin, turning me into a hormonal teenager lusting after the star of the football team. “Goodbye, Kaitlyn.”
“No, wait,” she says quickly. “I want to see around.” I glare at her, and she hurries on with, “Look at it like you’re on a familiarization quest of his space because you’re going to be staying there, nothing more.”
“Only for a week. I doubt he’ll get the landlord to do anything.”
“So that’s a yes?”
I hesitate and glance around. “Fine,” I say, and reverse the screen so she can see what I see.
I do a slow circle to show her the entirety of the room. “Big, huh?” I say, and instantly regret my word choice. I shake my head and brace myself for a sexual response.
“You make it too easy, girlfriend,” she laughs.
“Yeah, yeah, I know. Maybe because I’m not always thinking about sex like you are.” Okay, that’s a lie, I’ve been thinking about sex ever since Christian brought me to this room last night, removed his robe and put his hand on my shoulder.
I walk along one wall, cataloging his dresser and closet, which are beside the door to the hall. The wall behind the bed has a shelf with numerous medals and trophies. Across from me is a great big window with the curtains drawn for privacy and the fourth wall to my right has a door to the bathroom, a big comfy chair, a small two-seat table and a TV on the wall. It’s quite nice and comfy.
“Not much blackmail material here,” Kaitlyn says, and I laugh, hard, remembering how he teased me about my snoring. “It wasn’t that funny.”
“Yeah, I know. I think I’m nervous. This feels like snooping.” I glance over my shoulder. Maybe I should have locked the door.
“Open his nightstand.”
“No,” I say in a hushed voice. “That’s his private space.”
“Do it,” she insists. “You have to make sure you’re not sharing a room with a serial killer who keeps weapons or body parts in his nightstand.” I cock my head, and stare at her, incredulously. “What?”
“Are you for real?”
“Yeah, do it.”
I turn the screen back to me. “You’d say just about anything to get me to do it, wouldn’t you?”
She blinks dark
