Oh, there’s no denying that at all. The images of me are crystal clear. As are the ones of Roan.
What the hell?
What.
The.
Freaking.
Hell!
Shaking my head, I try to make sense out of what I’m seeing. But I can’t. “Um, we’re partners for a business ethics project. And we worked on it yesterday.”
She raises a brow before looking pointedly back at the photos. Holy mother of Christ. There are five of them in total.
Finally I snap, “You’re the one who sent him to pick me up from the studio yesterday.” I glare at her before announcing, “I blame you for this!”
Quickly she shakes her head in denial. “I sent him over so you wouldn’t have to walk home,” she waves her hand around at the computer screen, “and this looks like way more than working on some class project.”
Reluctantly I admit that she’s right. It does look like way more than studying.
The first picture is of us walking out of the dance studio together. He’s holding the door open for me. Okay. No big deal. Moving on…
The second picture is of him handing me a smoothie. Again. Nothing to see here, folks.
The third is of us sitting in his SUV. It looks like we’re having a serious conversation. But so what? People sit in trucks and talk all the damn time. Give me a break.
The forth is of him holding my hand, dragging me through the library. Which okay… maybe it could be misconstrued as something it’s not. But who the heck cares?
And the fifth… well, that’s when we were watching that couple and he was doing his whole lip reading parlor trick.
Except… we aren’t looking at the couple.
Nope.
We’re staring at each other and even though Roan has a ball cap pulled low over his eyes, his clothing is the same as in the earlier pictures that were snapped making it completely obvious that it’s him. Our faces are so close. Like we’re just on the verge of kissing.
Oh my god!
Is that really what we looked like?
All heated up like that?
With a little too much force, I slam the screen of her laptop shut. I don’t want to look at those stupid, not to mention intrusive, pictures anymore. And I sure as hell don’t want to read all the comments. Because there have to be about three hundred of them.
Seriously? Do people have absolutely nothing better to do with their time than sit around trolling the Roan King website for up-to-date info on him? Or posting pictures?
Well… yeah, apparently so by the ridiculous number of comments that have already been posted and shared and tweeted...
“Well, if it makes you feel any better, they don’t know who the mystery girl is,” she pauses before adding, “yet.”
Yet...
Great.
My eyes arrow to hers.
Very gently, she asks, “Are you sure there’s nothing going on between you two?”
Rather emphatically I shake my head. “I told you- we have a class together and we’re partners for a project. That’s it.”
Technically I’m not lying to my best friend. Then I remember Saturday night and the kiss we shared in the elevator. You know… the one where he all but crushed those amazingly talented lips down on mine, giving me the best damn kiss I’ve ever experienced in my life, right before I went on a date with Finn?
Yeah… that kiss.
Which, FYI, ended up being a complete dud. Finn couldn’t seem to move on from the fact that Roan and I are partners for that damn business project or the fact that he lives right next door to me. As ridiculous as it sounds, Roan King wasn’t even on that date and yet he dominated the entire freaking evening. By the end of the night, I was relieved to be dropped off at my apartment where I quickly baled from his Jeep before he could get any ideas about walking me to my door.
Plus… I couldn’t stop thinking about that sexy-as-all-hell kiss Roan laid on me.
So yeah… maybe there is a little something going on between us. But it’s not like anything serious is going to happen because I’m not going to let it. He wants a hook up. I need a real relationship. Those two things are never going to mesh.
No matter how many sparks are flying between us.
Plus, who said I even wanted a relationship with Roan?
Ummm… no one, that’s who.
Apparently everything that’s just been rolling around in my head has been flickering across my all-too-expressive face because as Lexie’s eyes hold mine, she says rather seriously, “Just be careful, Ivy. Roan is a major player. He’s the king of one night stands. I’ve never seen him with the same girl more than once or twice.”
Heat floods my cheeks because I’m well aware of this. For god’s sake, he told me himself that he doesn’t do relationships. I believe the word he used was- fluid. As in- I like to keep things fluid. Even thinking about that comment has everything within me solidifying. “There’s no reason for me to be careful because nothing is going on between us.”