As soon as she says ‘roomies’, her face drops like she’s just made a blunder.
Yeah. Right.
My eyes narrow and I shoot her a dirty look that makes her look instantly guilty.
“Uh huh,” I say, folding my arms over my chest. “I see.”
“Ally…”
She has the decency to look contrite.
I trudge on. “And I can just hear you and Aiden talking about me and Jude becoming a thing because now we’re sharing the same space. Newsflash: every girl-boy roommate sitch does not pan out as a happily-ever-after, girlie.”
She laughs nervously behind her coffee cup, takes a sip, then shrugs. “No, of course not, but Austin and Jada would totally work. I can see it. And you were completely into Jude when you met him, so…what happened?”
“Was. I’m no longer into him. I was blinded by the whole picture and then I started to see what color his aura really is.”
“Huh?”
“He’s become a pain in the ass bordering on stalker. Wait. Not bordering. Full-on stalker level achieved because that infuriating man finagled a way into my apartment! What is his game?”
“I honestly don’t know. Aiden could very well be trying to do for you two what I’m hoping happens for Austin and Jada. He didn’t say much but made it seem like it wasn’t a big deal. Said he was just doing ‘ a solid’ for a friend.”
“Make it stop. Please.”
“It’s out of my hands. But what’s the deal? Really? There’s nothing creepy about him. He’s gorgeous, he’s smart, he’s successful, and-”
I shake my head. “I don’t want to be tied down. He’s giving me tied down vibes for one.”
“Weird. Seemed like you were all about rope play when you first met him.”
I do my best to look confused.
“You were talking about all sorts of whips and chains stuff with him.” Her eyebrows wiggle. “And you talked about him a lot after you met him. Then you were backpedaling and seemed like you weren’t interested, and you don’t even mention him for ages and now suddenly he’s the bane of your existence?”
I swallow down a lump. “I’m hung up on shit because of my ex. I’m nowhere near ready. And he’s being pushy. And I can’t believe you’re refusing to help me with this.”
I hate lying to Carly, but technically it’s not a total lie. It’s down to my ex that I can’t get serious with anyone, can’t be one hundred per cent honest with anybody. Because it’s too dangerous. I can’t subject the people I love to the Steele brothers.
Carly’s asked me about my pre-San Diego life. I’ve only ever told her I’m an only child, my father died, and I don’t really talk to my mom, waving it off like we don’t get along (when in truth, I miss her so much it hurts) and I made myself sound like a free spirit who likes to bounce around and travel, be promiscuous, and have fun.
In reality, I haven’t traveled much, am the opposite to a free spirit because I’m living a lie that forces me to be ultra-guarded, and I have only had sex with three men. My first one, at eighteen, my high school boyfriend. He wanted to wait until we got married; I didn’t and finally gave him an ultimatum about sex or The End. He picked sex and then we ended shortly after anyway. The second one was a long-term college boyfriend that I was with for three and a half years. The third was Jonah. Well, four now that I’ve had sex with Jude. And I haven’t told a soul about that one.
And disappearing was easy because beyond Mom, I had some friends, but I kept my circle small. My best friend from high school moved to England for love. My closest friends from college were sprinkled around the country for jobs or relationships, and the rest of my friends had been people I worked with. As an assistant manager of a busy restaurant I mostly socialized with the people I worked with. I quit on the spot with a lame excuse about getting a dream job opportunity for a resort and would be traveling all over the Caribbean and said I’d be in touch soon. I didn’t, couldn’t stay in touch. And the boss was furious about me quitting with no notice over the phone on a day they’d needed me to come in early out of being short-staffed. But, what could I do? It was run away or get dead, probably.
“It’s the corporate apartment, Ally. I don’t have any control over who stays in the second bedroom. But what happened there?” she asks. “What was your ex’s name again?”
I glance at my phone. “Too long to get into right now. It’s 8:20. We’d better get upstairs. So, basically, you can’t help me get Jude out of my apartment?”