Everyone loves a hot, broody jock, right? The kind who’s stare sets your body on fire and all common sense flies out the window?
Well, not this girl.
Sure, Keith Montgomery has the looks, but in his case, beauty is only skin deep. He’s egotistical, obnoxious and the most shallow person I’ve ever met.
And I’m his new roommate.
Turns out we were both desperate.
But that’s where our commonalities end. He’s indecisive where I’m sensible, chaotic where I’m organized. So why do I ache for those minutes alone with him?
I’m not the type of girl who likes to get burned, but suddenly the idea of playing with Fire is getting harder to resist.
Sunday morning rolls in with bright sunlight beaming through the open blinds of the far bedroom window. My new bedroom. It’s fairly sparse, with a beat up dresser, a nightstand and desk tucked into the corner by the closet. Not a single one of them match and likely came from a consignment shop, but rather than curl at distaste, I beam brightly at the opportunity to refinish these and make them look brand-spanking new and make a mental note to stop by a hardware store sometime this week to pick up some supplies. Of course, I’m on a limited budget, so I’ll need to do some serious penny pinching to get the project done.
Before I pull back the solid black comforter, I take a moment to just sit and revel in the ensuing silence of the small place. It was never this quiet at the sorority house. Girls were up at the crack of dawn and the house would bustle with the sounds of hairdryers and heels clicking against the hardwood floors. I never needed to set an alarm when I was there. But, here, it’s so peaceful you could hear a pin drop, needless to say, living in a house full of people is incredibly overrated.