The Grumpy Roommate Gamble (Heroes of Huckleberry Creek #1)

8. Felicity

EIGHT

FELICITY

I stood at the kitchen window staring out at the moody gray day as rain drummed against the glass. Once upon a time, I’d loved rainy days. Staying cozy inside while mother nature had a good cry and thinking about how good it was for all my plant babies.

But that had been Before.

My fingers restlessly kneaded the fabric of my sweater, as if that would somehow release some of this bubbling anxiety.

“Hey, you okay?”

Startled, I turned from the window to find Gabe with one hand on the fridge door.

“Uh, yeah. I’m fine.”

He just continued to study me with that deep, impenetrable stare. “Why don’t I believe you?”

Busted. I wasn’t used to having a roommate at all, let alone one who was observant.

Feeling more than a little foolish, I shrugged. “Rain makes me nervous.”

“Why?”

“Because it makes me think of flooding. I know it’s not rational. It wasn’t a thunderstorm that flooded my house, but this is just what my anxiety does. I haven’t really rested well anytime it’s rained since everything happened.”

And given it was Sunday, I didn’t have a day full of work at the shop to keep me occupied.

Gabe just nodded, matter-of-fact. “Well, seems like you need a distraction. You wanna watch a movie?”

I blinked at him, not sure he’d really made the offer. “Don’t you have something else to do today?” He’d been on the go pretty much constantly since he’d returned from deployment. Other than meals, our paths actually didn’t cross all that much—a fact that I both loved and hated.

“No. I’m waiting on materials. And I need to take an actual day off to rest here and there, or I’ll burn out. So, how ’bout it?”

Spend a couple of hours one on one with him? I doubted I’d be able to pay a lick of attention to whatever we watched, but he definitely fit the bill for a distraction. “I could go for a movie.”

He ducked into the fridge and grabbed a Coke. “What about Mad Max? ”

My heart gave a happy thump. “I love Max Max! ”

“I’ve never actually seen it.”

Abandoning my post at the window, I moved around the table toward him. “Oh, my God. How have you never seen Mad Max? It’s a classic.”

“Don’t know. Just never did. It’s kinda old.”

“Why did you pick it?”

Jerking those broad shoulders in a shrug, he twisted open the bottle. “I saw some of the books at your place. Had to move them for the work I’ve been doing. I had no idea you were into post apocalyptic and dystopian stuff.”

I laughed. Yeah, I knew I didn’t seem the type. “It’s something I got from my dad. I grew up on Max Max , The Terminator, The Matrix, The Hunger Games. I guess I got into the books because I’m a big reader. After my mom left, I needed to read stuff that was about tough things but that still had a happy ending.”

One dark brow winged up. “Dystopian shit has happy endings?”

His expression said I was full of shit, and that had me laughing again. “Dystopian romance does.”

Gabe considered that and nodded. “Fair point.”

Setting the Coke aside, he opened a lower cabinet. “You like popcorn?”

“Are there clouds in the sky?”

“I make pretty good stovetop popcorn.”

“I won’t say no.” Drawn in by him, I slid onto one of the stools to watch as he placed a massive heavy-bottomed pot on the stove, added oil, and dumped in popcorn kernels.

“I noticed some of the books were signed by the authors.”

His back was to me as he dug out the lid to the pot, so he didn’t see me clutch at the pang in my chest. It gave me a few moments to get myself under control. “Yeah. Dad got them for me.”

“Ah.” He covered the pot and set the heat, leaning back against the counter beside the stove. “The flood jacked them up, didn’t they?”

Because my throat had gone thick, I just nodded.

“I could tell they were pretty important to you. Man, I’m sorry. That’s clearly a good memory of your dad.”

I shoved down the emotion and shrugged again. “I still have the memories.” Because I desperately needed to get the conversation off the negative before I embarrassed myself by crying, I teased him a little. “I’ll enjoy indoctrinating you into the genre.”

“You wanna to figure out which service it’s streaming on while I finish this?”

“Sure.”

By the time I had the movie queued, Gabe came into the room with the biggest bowl of popcorn I’d ever seen.

“Snagged you a Diet Coke.”

“Perfect.”

He set the bowl in the middle of the sofa and dropped down to one side, kicking his sock feet up on the coffee table. I pressed play and lowered myself more carefully on the other, not wanting to upset the bowl. As the familiar opening credits began, I was grateful I knew every second of this movie because I couldn’t focus on it at all. I was too aware of the size and heat of the man beside me.

For heaven’s sake, girl, it’s just a movie. Eat your popcorn.

But when I reached for a handful, my hand brushed the back of his. A zing of electricity seemed to shoot right up my arm.

Gabe glanced over. “How is it?”

“What?”

“The popcorn.”

“Oh.” I tossed a few kernels in my mouth. As the delightfully salty taste hit my mouth, I closed my eyes and hummed in appreciation. “Oh, that’s delicious.”

When I opened my eyes again, I would’ve sworn I caught him staring at my mouth. But then he looked back at the screen, and I told myself I’d imagined it.

Watch the movie.

Gabe watched with an intensity of focus that made me wonder what it would be like to have all that focus dialed in to me. The idea of it made me shudder, as I did every time our hands brushed in the popcorn bowl. By the time the credits rolled, every inch of my skin felt electrified.

“Well, how did you like it?”

“That was awesome. Isn’t there a sequel?”

“Two of the old school and some new ones my dad refused to acknowledge as part of the franchise.”

“You up for a triple feature?”

He seriously wanted to spend the rest of the day with me?

“Sure.”

“This requires more snacks.”

We replenished the supplies, and I queued up Mad Max 2: The Road Warrior.

Gabe stretched his arm out on the sofa behind me, and my stomach did a shimmy. Was this a move? What was happening here?

But he made no attempt to touch me. He seemed to just be trying to get more comfortable.

Right. He’s just your roommate. Chill out and watch the movie.

And somehow, I did.

The afternoon wore on, and the rain continued. But inside, we were warm and cozy and highly entertained by old-school Mel Gibson badassery.

I don’t know how it happened, but by the end of Thunderdome , I found myself sprawled on a pillow in Gabe’s lap. His fingers idly played with my hair in a soothing rhythm, and I was no longer worried about the rain.

As the movie ended, I rolled to my back and looked up at him. He looked down at me, his fingers tangled in my curls. Suddenly, whatever I’d been about to say evaporated, and a fresh tension sparked as my gaze fell to his lips. How would he taste? What could he do with that mouth that held just the faintest hint of a smile?

He wasn’t moving, wasn’t speaking. He was probably waiting for me to move, and I was misreading whatever signals I thought he was throwing off.

Swallowing hard, I sat up, and whatever spell I’d been under effectively shattered as his hand fell away from my hair. “Thanks for a really great day. I appreciated the distraction.”

“You feel better?” His voice was a rasp, as if he had to work to clear something out of his throat.

“Yeah. And it was nice not to spend the day alone.”

“Same.”

At that, my eyes tracked back to his. In the reflected light of the TV, I couldn’t read the expression there.

“I’ve got an early day tomorrow. I’m expecting a specialty shipment for the shop first thing. I should head up to bed.”

“Yeah. I should probably do the same.”

As my brain started waving pompoms and shouting that we should invite him to come up with us, he switched off the TV.

“I’ll clean up down here. Goodnight, Felicity.”

Right. Just roommates.

“Goodnight, Gabe.” I didn’t let myself look back as I headed up the stairs, regrettably alone.