Until I Saw You (Until I Saw You #1)

by Dianna Roman

“Well, make him a sandwich, throw it in the fridge, and tell him you have plans with your best friend who’s been worried sick about you.”

“And you just got out of a shitty relationship and are super vulnerable, so I need to make sure this guy isn’t taking advantage.” “Oh, brother. How can he take advantage if he’s straight?” “Please. Straight is just one sexual encounter away from gay.”

amen

When he positions himself and starts to drop the waistband of his gym shorts, I realize in my shock, I’m staring. Oh my God. Don’t look at his dick. Don’t look at his dick. Turning my head toward the shower when he frees himself,

omg

I’m so close, if I step forward, any one of my naked parts might brush against him.

Why is it taking him so long to wash his hands? They’re clean! They’re clean! Leave. For the love of baby Jesus, please leave.

“Hey!” I greet cheerfully because it is good to see his obnoxious face. “Ready to go,” I declare, making to hustle out the door. Except, he claps me on the shoulder, shoving past me into the apartment. Dick.

Why does this feel like a kid bringing home their first date to meet their parents’ approval? Shit. Why do I feel like Riley is the date and Daniel is the parent? This is Daniel’s fault. He planted that seed in my head last night.

Great. I nearly forgot. What are Riley’s friends like? I imagine one throws knives, another rides motorcycles in those round cages at carnivals.

“Because I’d totally let him put his dick in my mouth,” he adds.

“You’re such a ho,” I snap, but it comes out chopped with laughter. Cackling, he gives me a playful shove in return as the elevator doors open. “Takes one to know one.”

“Holy shit. That was beautiful,” Jasper chimes in. “He’s going to break his pass record from last year. I swear.” To my left, Rob leans in and mumbles, “McCutchin just made a forty-yard pass to Treemont.” Good old Rob, always thinking about everyone but himself. Smiling, I give his thigh a fist bump in thanks for trying to keep me out of the dark.

rob>>>

“It’s all the food groups. I’m probably the most well-balanced person nutrition-wise in this apartment right now.”

I need to pay more attention to him and make sure he feels welcome.

“I’ll have a mocha-Frodo-baklavachino-frappe with two pumps of kryptonite and an extra shot of I-don’t-want-to-take-a-nap-later.” ​The anticipated silence follows, making me proud, but Harper ruins it with, “He’ll have an iced cappuccino with an extra shot of espresso and two sugars.”

“You’re fired,” I deadpan, getting a laugh out of him. “You two work together,” the barista asks. Nosey bastard. “Uh, yeah,” Harper answers. “Can we get an order of those toasted cheddar bites?” “They have cheddar bites?” I ask, perking up. Why is he just telling me this now? “Dude, give me an order too,” I tell barista guy. “No,” Harper corrects. I’m about to throat punch him and tell him both his employment and our new friendship is over, but he adds, “Just one please. The ones I ordered are for him.” Oh. He ordered me cheesiness of his own accord. Ten points to Harper. “You’re hired again,” I inform him. “Glad to hear it.”

The more I think on it, all I can come up with is this is my Harper. He can go get his own.

“So, are you going to call him?” “What?” “The glitter barista. Are you going to call him?” “Um, not likely.” Good. He’s smart. I knew I liked him for a reason.

“That wouldn’t exactly be good for my professional reputation.” “Exactly!” Integrity. He’s got integrity too. Yeah, glitter barista can go hit on someone else’s roommate.

“You have a nice day. Come back soon!” “Thank you,” Harper calls out politely. Come back soon? Ugh. Who is this guy? What if Harper ever comes here for coffee without me? I need to shut this shit down. I mean, the poor guy doesn’t need to be harassed by unwanted admirers.

Reaching for him, I catch his arm, smiling at the way he instantly stops for me. That’s right, glitter man. I’m priority number-one. Roommate El-Supremo. Slinking my arm around his shoulders, I angle my head toward the counter. “Yeah. Thanks. The cheese bites were cold though. They better not make my boyfriend sick.”

Whatever. I’m way cooler than glitter man. I wonder if Harper thinks so?

He starts tracking his way down the sidewalk in the wrong direction. Great. Just what I need, to get my patient killed.

“What’s going to happen to me? I throw my back out? I never said I volunteered to carry your big screen TV.”

lol

“He’s what?” he hedges. “He’s mean. Okay?” “Like he’s an asshole? Yeah, I picked up on that already.” “No. Like…he’s violent.” Frowning, his gaze moves from the door to me. When he gets all serious like this, I swear it feels like he can see me. Reaching out, he cups the side of my jaw and rubs his thumb across my cheek. The simple touch cuts the anchor on the tension coiled around my spine, and I finally remember to breathe.

It’s a shot in the dark, but all my shots are in the dark.

Facing the closet, I ask the question I’ve been wondering all week, the one that’s making a pain twist in my chest that feels a lot like jealousy. “Did you love him?”

His hands are warm, grasping onto my shoulders. My spine is stiff as a board, but I realize it’s the first time I haven’t flinched from his contact. It’s a touch I welcome because it’s Riley. When an arm snakes across my chest, tugging me back against his, my body gives up all defenses, settling into the comfort with a shaky breath.

When I figured out how daunting it would be, I asked him to give me a page of numbers instead of letters. I started this because I wanted to know elevator buttons, so why shoot for the moon? The alphabet can wait.

His warmth is soaking into my skin from where he’s sitting next to me on the couch. It’s pacifying a protectiveness inside me, knowing he’s close by where no one can hurt him, knowing he can be free from worry here.

“If you get me a Braille phone, don’t expect me to be able to call 9-1-1,” I joke, eager to disrupt the silence. He doesn’t answer. Shit. Was that a bad joke? Did he ever have to call 9-1-1?

and watching me learn Braille is about as exciting as listening to Larry lick his nuts. That dog has issues.

I’ve been sitting here feeling up fabric swatches the last three weeks while he’s been having someone talk dirty to him. That’s so not fair. I mean, he could’ve put it on speaker. I can still feel shit and listen at the same time.

LMAOOOOOO

We’re never fucking going there again.

Harper deserves clever flirting and someone who uses normal pens.

Oh, shit! Dusty’s going down…downtown to P-town. Holy fuck. Is he still going to go through with the wedding?

I can’t take it anymore. Now he’s humoring me over my infatuation with gay romance novels. I’m just going to go find a place to die.

Stripping down to my boxers in my room, I plug my slutty-talking phone in on the nightstand, and then burrow my head under my blankets.

LMAO

“I wish people came with warning labels,” he offers when I trail off. “Or like a character trait menu on a video game.” Holding his hand up like air brackets, he accentuates, “Likes cheese. Has ugly dog. Weaknesses: pizza. Strengths: insatiable modesty.”

“We take chances on people, the same way they take chances on us. If we didn’t, everybody’d be alone.”

“Well, if you can’t sleep, we could listen to that story of yours.”

you thinking what im thinking?

His frustrated breath ghosts across the distance. Turning toward me, eyes wild, he gesticulates. “Does Dustin go get his man, or does he marry that chick his family’s trying to force on him? It’s fucking killing me not knowing! I swear, my brain’s going to explode!”

Holy crap. He’s…actually serious. I’ve created a gay porn monster.

Disbelieving, I shake my head and tap the play button for him where he left off earlier. And then I wait. I wait for him to get off the bed and go back to his room. He does neither. Instead, he leans back against the headboard, crosses his ankles, and folds his arms across his stomach, a disturbingly serene smile on his face.

After everything he did for me today, he can listen to all the gay smut that he wants.

“How can you sleep through this shit? It’s too intense!”

Maybe that’s what I really needed all along, someone kind and alone just like me because together, we’re not alone.

“You have no idea. Pretty sure she tried to give me away a few times. Once a year, she’d dress me up and tell me to go knock on doors for candy.” “Halloween?” he asks, sounding confused. “No, just a random day of the year. She said to tell whoever gave me candy that they had to let me live with them or I’d call the cops on them for giving candy to kids.”

“If I could still see, I’d come up with a way for non-sighted people to be able to figure out which clothes of theirs were which,” I complain. “Like old black t-shirt with mustard stain from the Superbowl on it, end quote.”

“Designing our clothes-reader app.”

Finding the back of my office chair, I pull it out and pat the seat for him to sit down. This will be the most exciting project I’ve ever worked on. I’ve designed useful apps before, ones that made things convenient for people, but this…this could change lives.