Nothing to Everything (Roommate for Roommate Book 1)

by Maia Aaron

“I don’t think Fitz hates you, and I don’t think he’s as much of an asshole as you think he is. I think you hate him because your mother doesn’t, and that makes you feel bad.”

God, I envy him. I envy him because it was his choice. Because it’s simply something he does because he loves.

“Nah,” he shakes his head, “I love the piano, but only as a hobby. Something I like to do in my free time. If I made it into a career, I think it’d eventually lose its fun. It’d start to feel like an obligation. I only started giving lessons because I needed the money.” I snort. “Ah. So is that why you’re still dealing with my ass? Because you need the money?” I tease. A crease forms in between his brows. “What do you mean?” “Oh, come on. Why else would you still be giving me these lessons?” “I don’t… I’m not sure I follow,” he says. I roll my eyes. “You don’t have to pretend, Fitz. I know my mom is paying you.” For a moment, he doesn’t say anything in response. He just stares at the piano keys and licks his lips. Then, he tells me, “Your mom doesn’t pay me, Wendy.” Pause. “What?” “Well, I mean, I was supposed to take money for your lessons. That was the deal. But when I saw you for the first time… I just couldn’t do it. I didn’t take the money. I never took any money.” Something weird happens inside my chest at his confession. What the hell does he mean by that? “What? You’ve been doing this for free for six whole months? Why?” Fitz turns to look at me, his eyes serious. “You don’t need me, Wendy. You never did. Taking money to teach you nothing was unfair.” He takes in a breath, swallowing hard. “But I still wanted to see you. Wanted to spend time with you. Wanted an excuse to be around you. So I kept doing our lessons together even though I never believed you ...

“Hey, Wendy?” I squeeze my eyes shut and breathe harshly through my nose. Not now, James. Still, with another breath that’s meant to calm me a little, I turn to face him. “Yeah?” He scratches the back of his neck nervously. “This, uh… This is going to sound a little weird, but I just wanted to say thanks.” Huh? “For what?” “You know, for Fitz,” he says, like it’s the most obvious answer in the world. “It’s nice to see him come out of his shell with someone other than me.” James laughs, and my brows knit together in confusion. What does he mean? “In what way?” “Oh, you know,” James says with a wave of a hand, but I don’t know. It must show on my face, because he continues. “Fitz has always been the quiet type. Never really talks to anyone unless he wants to. Not for any bad reason, he’s just… shy. Gets nervous easily. I remember when we first met, I had to sit through ten minutes of one-sided conversation before he finally gave in.” He laughs again, fondness swimming in his eyes as he recalls the memory. He shrugs. “He’s always been a man of few words when it comes to most people, but with you, it’s like he can’t shut the fuck up. He jokes around and smiles a lot with you. It’s good to see.” Every part of me has gone still except for my heart and my mind.

How did we get here? Slowly, I walk back downstairs, and the sound of a beautiful melody reaches my ears. Fitz is still at the piano, currently playing something I’m not familiar with. I stare at him, and he’s completely oblivious to the fact that I’ve returned because his eyes are closed as he continues to play, making his long lashes brush the top curve of his cheeks. With his gaze off of me, I have free reign to stare at him, and I notice small things about him that I’m not sure I’ve ever noticed before. I notice the beauty mark dotted above his upper lip and the other one on his cheek under his eye. I notice the way his ears are a little pointed at the top and how his bottom lip juts out slightly in a pout as he concentrates on what he’s playing. I notice the way his brows furrow and the way his lean body sways with the music. God, he’s so beautiful, it hurts. And I hate him for it. Suddenly, the song Gorgeous by Taylor Swift starts playing in my head as I watch him, and that’s when I know I need to get the fuck out of here. It’s one thing to let myself think I might not hate him and that he’s not terrible-looking, but the fact that I’ve started to correlate Taylor Swift songs to him? Yeah, that’s how I know it’s bad. Really fucking bad.

It’s the song Lover. By Taylor Swift. The one I told him was my favorite that day when we played Twenty Questions after my panic attack. I can’t breathe.

He’s going to kiss me. No no no no. I can’t do this. I can’t let him kiss me. I just can’t. Because if he does, I’m so sure I’ll kiss him back. In fact, I don’t think I’ve ever been more sure of anything in my life. And once my lips meet his, once I can feel them against my own, then this will all be real. There’ll be no going back after it, and I don’t know if I’m ready for that. Actually, I do know. I’m not ready for that at all.

“Fitz, I… I just… What are we… What are we doing?” He frowns, too. Furrows his brows. Tilts his head. “What do you mean?” “I mean we hate each other! We’ve hated each other from the minute we met. We bicker and you try to antagonize me and I roll my eyes when you talk. That’s just what we do. So… what are we doing?” Fitz still doesn’t seem to understand. He shakes his head, slides off the bench, and stands next to the piano, right across from me. “What are you talking about, Wendy?” “I’m talking about this, Fitz!” I unclasp my hands from behind my back and use them to gesture between us. “I’m talking about you leaning in to kiss me like it was the most natural thing in the world. I’m talking about you looking at me like you can’t even remember a time when you hated me, when it was only two months ago that you did!” He’s still shaking his head, and now he’s taking slow steps forward. One. Two. “Why do you keep saying that? Where did you get the impression that I hate you?” Is he serious? I can’t help but scoff. “Two months ago, Fitz, you could barely even stand to touch me. You’d jump any time we made even the slightest contact. What else is that supposed to mean? What else am I supposed to think?” He pauses, brows furrowing. Parts his lips, shakes his head. “You don’t get it, do you?” I blink, and he shakes his head. “The reason I couldn’t touch you was never because I didn’t want to. I didn’t touch you, Wendy, because I wanted to so badly that I was sure you’d notice. I d...

God i love these moments

“Fitz, I… I just… What are we… What are we doing?” He frowns, too. Furrows his brows. Tilts his head. “What do you mean?” “I mean we hate each other! We’ve hated each other from the minute we met. We bicker and you try to antagonize me and I roll my eyes when you talk. That’s just what we do. So… what are we doing?” Fitz still doesn’t seem to understand. He shakes his head, slides off the bench, and stands next to the piano, right across from me. “What are you talking about, Wendy?” “I’m talking about this, Fitz!” I unclasp my hands from behind my back and use them to gesture between us. “I’m talking about you leaning in to kiss me like it was the most natural thing in the world. I’m talking about you looking at me like you can’t even remember a time when you hated me, when it was only two months ago that you did!” He’s still shaking his head, and now he’s taking slow steps forward. One. Two. “Why do you keep saying that? Where did you get the impression that I hate you?” Is he serious? I can’t help but scoff. “Two months ago, Fitz, you could barely even stand to touch me. You’d jump any time we made even the slightest contact. What else is that supposed to mean? What else am I supposed to think?” He pauses, brows furrowing. Parts his lips, shakes his head. “You don’t get it, do you?” I blink, and he shakes his head. “The reason I couldn’t touch you was never because I didn’t want to. I didn’t touch you, Wendy, because I wanted to so badly that I was sure you’d notice. I d...

🛐🛐🛐🛐🛐🛐🛐🛐🛐🛐🛐🛐🛐🛐🛐

This girl. This beautiful, gorgeous girl is laying down on my bed, blessing me with the sight of her, the feel of her, the sound of her. There are so many inches of her and I want my mouth on every single one until I’ve committed the taste of her every part to memory. I want her in my bed every second of every goddamn day if this is what it feels like to have her there. To see her soft hair spread across my sheets and her eyes raking my body from top to bottom like she can’t fucking wait to have me on top of her and under her and on my knees for her, because I have no doubt in my mind that there’s not a single part of me that wouldn’t cave under her touch. I fucking need her. In any damn way she’ll have me. “Fitz,” she says my name, again in that fucking voice of hers that any man would die for. But it’s a good fucking thing that it’s not for any other man to hear because no man is even close to deserving it. Maybe not even me. She lifts her hands up, motioning for me to come back to her, and that’s all it takes. I’m a goner. There’s not a single thing in this world I wouldn’t do for this girl when she looks this fucking gorgeous asking it of me. If she asked me to kill a hundred men for her I’d kill a thousand. Just to please her, to see her look at me like I’ve made her proud, made her happy, because that’s all I want to do.

Some possessive urge inside me is obsessed with the fact that I’m the one doing this to her, that I’m the reason she looks kissed out of her mind and her eyes are hazy and she’s writhing beneath me because she needs me to touch her. “You’re so goddamn beautiful, Wendy,” I tell her, because I need her to know. I need her to know that there hasn’t been a single moment, from the minute we met, when I’ve looked at her and didn’t lose my balance at how perfect she is. “Sometimes it’s so hard to look at you because I’m scared if I do for too long, I’ll never stop. Because God knows I never would if I could.” I lean down again, burying my face in her neck and kissing her there, over and over. She smells so damn sweet. It’s taking everything in me not to bite down and leave a mark, right there for everyone to see. But I don’t, because this is only the first time we’ve been like this and I can’t risk scaring her off. I need more times. I need every single time she’ll give me until she can’t give me any more. She lets out a sound, a whimper that I feel directly against my lips and it makes my dick so hard that I’m lightheaded. Before Wendy, I didn’t even know it was possible to be this hard. But I’ve come to find out that not only is it possible, but it can happen so many goddamn times in a day that it hurts. Wendy wraps her legs around my waist, using them to pull me right against her and she gasps when I push up against her core and I swear I’m going to pass out. I can feel th...

“You… You’re… You’re–” “Hard?” I finish off Wendy’s breathless, sputtering sentence for her, lifting my head from the crook of her neck to look down at her. She’s looking up at me with hooded eyes, looking drowsy and intoxicated and fucking angelic. “Is that what you were gonna say, love? That you can feel my cock fucking throbbing against you? Because it’s been that way for eight months because of you, Wendy.” I thrust against her once, both of us groaning at the contact. “Does this prove just how much I want to touch you? How much I’ve wanted to touch you for so long? Does this show you why I could never let myself touch you before, baby?” Wendy doesn’t say anything to respond; she just whimpers, closing her eyes and throwing her head back like even my words are too much for her to handle. And it’s making me fucking feral. “Fitz,” she moans, putting her hand on my chest and looking at me again with those beautiful clouded eyes. “Let me help you. Please. I want to help you with it.” Holy fucking shit. I can’t help the guttural groan that crawls up my throat and escapes my mouth at what she’s just said to me, and I understand completely now that even words can feel just as good as actual touch. Skimming my nose across her cheek until my mouth has reached the shell of her ear, I answer her directly against it in a low, deep voice. “Yeah, love? You want to help me jerk off my cock? Make the pain go away?”

I AM FLABBERGASTED

“Will you let me touch you, lovely? Please? I need to make you feel good, too. Please.”

THE PETNAMES AND THE BEGGING IM GONNA FUCKING DIE

My pretty girl’s

Please thats all i want to call someone 🙏🏽

“Fitz,” she moans my name into my mouth and that’s the final straw. Her mouth, her heat, her eyes, her voice, her touch, her breath mingling with mine, it’s too much and not nearly enough because I want every fucking piece of her and once this ends I can never go back to only wondering what this would feel like with her because now I know for sure. I’ll have to spend the rest of my days knowing for a fact that she feels like the best thing I’ve ever known and no matter how many times I have her like this it’ll never be enough. I want to bury myself beneath her skin and leave a permanent print of my touch on her waist and record a song on her lips and live through every day from now on just for her, only for her. It’s too much. Too much. “Oh, God, Wendy,” her name leaves my lips and I repeat it like a mantra as I finally finish in her hand, my body jerking forward and my breath catching. I feel Wendy spasm around my fingers at the same time, letting me know she’s finished, too, and I slow down my pace to make sure I’m not hurting her before removing my fingers completely and taking my hand out of her panties. She’s still breathing fast, and I leave soft kisses on her lips to help her calm down, but also just because I can. Now that I’ve finally kissed her, I don’t plan on stopping for as long as she’ll let me. After she’s finally caught her breath, she opens her eyes to look at me, and I can physically feel my heart plummet to my stomach. Her eyes are half-lidded and she...

She’s real and now she’s giggling and smiling and looking at me like I might mean to her what she means to me.

“Hi there, pretty girl.” I watch the blush spread out across her cheeks and I can’t help the urge to bend down and kiss them, so I don’t even try. I can’t get enough of her. From now on, my lips will forever feel empty unless they’re kissing a part of her. “Come lay down with me,” she tells me, and she doesn’t need to do it twice. She scoots over until there’s just enough room for me to slip in next to her, and once we’re situated, I pull my covers out from under us and tug them until they’re on top of us. Wendy and I’s heads are on the same pillow and I’m on my side facing her, and she’s on her side facing me, but she’s still not close enough. I lift my hand and plaster it to the small of her back and push a little until she’s moved into me. She puts her head on my chest and my arm wraps around her waist and she fits into me perfectly, like she was made for me. Sometimes I think she was.

Opening my eyes fully, I skim them over the broad expanse of his covered chest until my gaze has settled on his face, and I’m startled to see that he’s already awake, staring down at me with the softest look I’ve ever seen. It straddles the line between contentment and sadness, and I want to know everything he’s thinking right now. I want—no, need to know where he wants us to go from here. “Morning, pretty girl,” he greets, and the contrast between his deep morning voice and the softness of his tone and his words sends a shiver down my spine. His hand is on my back, and I feel his thumb rub back and forth across the skin hidden beneath my shirt. It’s like he touched me for the first time yesterday and now he can’t get enough. I’m not complaining, though. I like his hands on me. I like his lips on me even more. I can’t help but smile up at him. “What are you thinking about?” “You,” he answers instantly. “Always you, love.”

“I really need to pee.” Fitz groans, bending down enough to burrow his face into my neck. “Do you really have to?” “Yes. So unless you want a puddle of my piss in your bed, I suggest you let me go.” “Maybe that’s exactly what I want,” he murmurs suggestively against my neck, his breath tickling my skin. “You don’t know what I’m into.” My eyes widen and I scoff. “Gross! Please don’t tell me you actually have a piss kink, Fitz Higgins…” “Asking about what gets me going, are we now, baby?” He tsks. “Aren’t you just a naughty, naughty girl.”

“I can tell when you’re having a silent crisis in your mind, you know,” his voice breaks me out of my thoughts. He’s staring at me with an unreadable expression, like he can’t quite figure out how I’m feeling so he doesn’t know what emotion to display to me in response. “Tell me what you’re thinking, Wendy.” I want to. God, I want to. But I’m scared. No one ever used to ask me what I’m thinking. I grew up being told exactly how to think, what to think, and when to think it. I was never given the option to speak my mind without consequence. And now here I am, in bed with Fitz Higgins, a man I used to think was my worst enemy, asking me to talk to him about my deepest fears and anxieties. And the scariest part is that when I look at his face, I know in my bones that he only wants me to tell him so that he can be there for me. To soothe my worries and whisper promises in my ear that will lift some of the heaviness off of my heart.

I take a deep breath in. I scoot over a little until I’m sitting next to where Fitz is sitting with his back resting against his headboard, and then I put my head on his shoulder. The minute I do that, Fitz’s hand is reaching for mine so he can intertwine our fingers and rub his thumb back and forth along the back, and he’s placing a soft kiss on my hair. He likes to do that a lot, I’ve noticed. And I love it. I want these small acts of affection to be mine forever. I want his touches to belong to me and only me, and I want to give him mine whenever I want to. Would it be so bad to believe that I could? We sit in silence for a moment, and Fitz doesn’t push me to talk. He doesn’t force me to tell him what I’m thinking and he doesn’t get angry with me for seeking his comfort even though I’m being short with him. He just lets me be, and I realize, in this moment, that I want this every single day. I want him every day. Everything that he is. And if that means having to talk about things I’d rather keep buried, then so be it. “We need to talk,” I break the silence, lifting my head off of his shoulder and turning to look at him. “I know that. But talking isn’t… It’s not easy for me. It’ll take time for me to give you everything you want from me. But I’m… I’m willing to try. If that’s enough for you.” Fitz’s eyes soften, and he gives a small nod. “It’s more than enough, love. In the meantime, I can do all the talking for us.”

But will you let me do something first?” I tilt my head to the side. “What?” “Will you let me take you out on a date tonight?”

“You can’t laugh like that for me and expect me not to kiss the everloving shit out of you, Wendy Marin,”

Reluctantly, I pick up. “Fitz—” “No, Wendy,” he interrupts, his voice stern. “Look, if you really don’t want to do this, then I’m not going to make you do something you’re uncomfortable with. But if there’s something else, if it’s what I think it is, I have to ask you to please try and put it aside. Just for tonight. I don’t know what’s going on in your head, but whatever it is, I want to help you through it. You said you have questions, and I’m going to give you all the answers you need and then some. I’ll do whatever you need, but please… I can’t let you shut this down without giving me a chance to show you what we could be together.”

“Wendy, please. Please. For me,” he pleads, and it sends an ache directly to my heart. In the past few months, Fitz has been nothing short of amazing to me. He’s been there for me in a way not even Elle has. He gives and gives and gives and what have I given him in return? I decide then that I can’t do this to him. That it’s unfair to deny us both what we want. That I owe myself a shot at something real. At being cared about the way I’ve always wished. At being loved. I take in a deep breath. “So,” I start, making my voice as light as possible. “What’s the dress code for this date of ours?” Fitz lets out a short, relieved laugh, and my chest immediately feels lighter at the sound. I may not be totally convinced that this is all a good idea, but there’s this small part of me that hopes Fitz will change my mind by the end of the night. Maybe things don’t have to be so black and white. Maybe there’s a gray area where Fitz and I can make this work. I pray there is. Even if I think Fitz deserves better than the me that I am now, there’s a small voice in my head that keeps saying that after everything I’ve been through, I deserve the kind of good that Fitz is. And I’m willing to work at becoming the best version of myself—the version that both Fitz and I need—in order to keep him.

Winning a trophy is never going to be more important than winning over my girl. I need this date to be good for her. I need to have her ready to give herself to me by the time the night is over, to soothe her fears enough for her to trust me. I need her to go home tonight thinking she never knew it was possible to feel the way I make her feel. I need to make her feel for me what I feel for her.

But I’ll be damned if I let that stop me from doing everything I can to make sure I deserve her.

🛐🛐🛐

College really is a scam.

I’m going to shove whatever worries that are festering in my mind into a box and lock them away because this is Wendy, my Wendy and I want her so badly it’s all I think about. I want her body, her mind, her heart all to belong to me, and there’s nothing I won’t do if it means she’ll give me those things and more. I can’t and won’t let a single thing go wrong tonight.

I can’t help the fucking grin that splits across my face at the sight of her. Now that I’m finally looking at her, every worry I ever had disappears into thin air. All I can think about is my girl and how fucking beautiful she looks right now.

She’s stunning. There’s not a single part of her I don’t want my hands on right now, and if I were any less of a gentleman, I’d shove her inside and have my way with her all damn night long. But as much as I want my lips on every inch of her, that’s not all I want from her. If last night was any indication, I already know I have her body. But I need the rest of her, too; the more important parts of her. I need her thoughts and her fears and her concerns. I need her to kiss me with not a single worry in her mind.

We have to start somewhere, though, and that somewhere is right here, right now. “You look…” I start, and I realize there’s not a single word that exists in the English language I could use to describe just how fucking perfect she is. “You look incredible, love.” Her smile widens with a blush overtaking her full cheeks, and my heart doubles in size. What is this girl doing to me? “Thank you. You don’t look so bad yourself,” she tells me, and I almost sigh in relief because now I know that she doesn’t think I look like a complete fucking idiot.

I completely forgot about the flowers in my hand. I was so distracted from seeing her that they totally slipped my mind. Once I’m in the room, I turn around to see her shutting the door before turning to face me. “I got you these, by the way,” I say, pushing the bouquet out towards her. Her face immediately lights up at the sight of them, and she gives me another one of those earth-shattering smiles that I can’t get enough of. I’m assuming that means she likes them. Thank God.

The more I learn about Elle, the more convinced I grow that she’s just the female version of James.

And i bet they're together rn too

“No, you don’t. Actually, I think you like me so much that you’d like me to do all those dirty things you read about to you, no?”

Fucking christ

I need to know she wants me as badly as I need her.

She doesn’t say anything, just stares at me with those eyes that could make any man bow down to her. She looks flushed, like she just finished running a marathon and hasn’t had a drink of water in over five miles, and the knowledge that she looks like that all from a few simple words does nothing to put out the fire burning in my belly.

I’ve always preferred savory over sweetness, but that was before I knew what Wendy tasted like.

I extend my right hand to her, which she stares at stunned for a second before intertwining her fingers with mine. I bring both of our hands up to my mouth and place a soft kiss on the back of hers, and the blush that explodes across her cheeks is my favorite color out of all the colors in the world.

shock. This girl, this divine woman who is by far the most beautiful girl I’ve ever seen, has never had a boyfriend?

I laugh. “Trust me, baby. I’m nowhere near confident. I have no idea what I’m doing or if any of it is working. The only thing I’m confident about is you, and I’m going to let that lead me the rest of the way.” Wendy seems stunned by my confession at first, but that’s quickly replaced with a shy smile as she turns to look at me. Her eyes are soft and warm, and when she lifts my hand up to her lips to kiss it, I almost swerve off the road. Every small gesture from her that shows me that she’s slowly growing more and more comfortable with me feels like I’ve just won a gold medal. I want everything from her, but until we finally get there, I’ll take every little thing I can get.

“Barnes and Noble?”

Bro this is pissing me off at the point 💀

I love seeing her get excited about the things she loves. I’d buy her the whole fucking romance section if it meant seeing her this happy.

PLEASE SOMEBODY IM BEGGINGGGGGGGG

Pulling out a book with a pastel-yellow cover that’s decorated with white daisies, she squeals and turns to me, showing it to me. “This is my favorite book,” she tells me. “The same one you told me about during Twenty Questions?” “Mhm,” she nods. “It’s… amazing. Reading it made me feel really happy. Like… Like I was the main character and was experiencing falling in love for the first time.” I take a step forward and grab another copy of the book she’s holding from the shelf, and she cocks a brow in confusion. “What are you doing?” I smile at her. “I’m buying myself a copy to read. I want to know about everything that makes you happy.”

It only intensifies when she turns back to the shelves and continues skimming over the books, her eyes sparkling. I want to capture how beautiful she looks like this, with nothing but pure joy ridden across her features, so I pull out my phone and quietly snap a few photos. Perfect. Putting my phone away, I lean against one of the shelves and shove my hands in my pockets. She’s pulling out a few books and reading over the synopsis of each one before she decides whether or not to keep it, and I count around five books in her hands in the span of about seven minutes. Five books—and counting—that she doesn’t know I’ll be paying for.

Her eyebrows furrow. “What kind of activity?” “You pick out a book for me from here, and I pick one out for you. But, it has to be one of the ones that have absolutely preposterous covers and titles, and we each have to read and finish the book picked out for us no matter how absolutely terrible it probably is. Whoever finishes theirs first, wins.”

I can't do this anymore

Wendy likes that, and I can tell from the mischievous gleam in her eyes that I better pray she doesn’t win.

The only thing that could make her even more perfect is if she was mine, and I hope more than anything that by the end of the night, I’ll be able to make that happen.

He sighs. “You’re right. It is my fault, and I should make it right.” He walks over to me, and I straighten when he turns around and gives his back to me. He pats himself on the back and says, “Get on.” What the fuck? He can’t be serious. “You can’t be serious,” I blank. “You’re gonna carry me all the way up there?” I watch the back of Fitz’s head as he nods. “One-hundred-percent serious, lovely.” He turns to look at me over his shoulder, one corner of his lip turning up in a smirk. “Wouldn’t want my princess to be in any pain, now would I?”

Wow

“You sure this wasn’t just a ploy for you to get to grab my ass?” I tease into his ear, and he laughs, turning to look at me. “You know me so well.” Not being able to help it, I smile at him