Nothing to Everything (Roommate for Roommate Book 1)

by Maia Aaron

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.

“You don’t get it, do you?”

“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 didn’t touch you because I was afraid that if I did, you would know just how much of an effect you have on me. That you’d see the way my cheeks turned red and my breathing quickened and I’d stop being able to form coherent fucking sentences.”

“Stop saying that.” “Saying what?” Six. Seven. “That you hate me.” Eight. “Because God knows, Wendy, that I’ve never, not even for a second, hated you.”

He’s always seen right through me. Like he was born with eyes made specifically for the job.

“No,” I whisper, so quietly I’m not even sure he heard me. “I don’t hate you, Fitz.” That’s all it takes. That one answer, and suddenly his fingers are weaving themselves into my hair to pull my head back so he can cover my mouth with his own.

His lips are moving against mine with urgency and familiarity, like this is a piece he’s spent years memorizing and now knows exactly every which note to play. Like we’ve done this a million times before and it’s just muscle memory at this point.

He’s kissing me like he’s thought about doing so so many times, and maybe he has, because he’s kissing me like he can’t control himself, like he’s finally being fed the one thing he’s been craving for so long. And I’m loving every minute of it.

“Jump,” he orders, and the word cuts through the hazy fog enough to ring alarm bells in my head. “Fitz, I can’t. I’m too h—” “I said,” he interrupts with a hiss next to my ear, his hand tightening around my thigh while the one in my hair makes its way down to latch onto my other thigh. “Fucking. Jump.”

it's always the quiet ones

“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.”

Everything about her is so damn radiant I’m surprised I’ve managed to look at her this long without going blind.

“Hi there, pretty girl.”

From now on, my lips will forever feel empty unless they’re kissing a part of her.

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.

“What are you thinking about?” “You,” he answers instantly. “Always you, love.”

“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,”

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

That everyone around him seemed to love him just for existing and I had to spend my whole life working, changing, begging for crumbs of love that I never even received in the end?

Winning a trophy is never going to be more important than winning over my girl.

College really is a scam.

I know Wendy likes to read romance, so that doesn’t surprise me. I decide to pick it up and flip through it, and I land on a page that she’s got tabbed. Based on the cover, I’m assuming it’s some cute romantic comedy where the… Oh. Oh.

Smirk

“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?”

Is that possible? Can a man die from a case of too-gorgeous-woman?

“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.”

She’s perfectly perfect to me.

Normally, I would be self-concious that I was too heavy and worry that he was struggling to carry me, but Fitz is hiking up this hill like there’s not a whole person on his back. He’s breathing completely normally, like carrying me is exerting him zero effort. And damn if that doesn’t turn me the fuck on.

Although I don’t believe showing emotion is a sign of weakness, I do think people will use that emotion for their own personal gain even if that means hurting someone else in the process. People can be horrible, terrible, selfish beings, and that’s just the truth. But that doesn’t mean they’re all like that. Does it?

The hand that’s covering mine picks it up and slowly places it on his chest, and then he flattens my palm on the space over his heart. The thudding of his heart is right against my hand, and it startles me how fast I can feel it beating. “This is why, Wendy,”

I’ve always loved the sky. Sunsets and sunrises and stargazing have always been some of my favorite things, and I always loved the feeling those things gave me. I loved the reminder that the world is so much bigger than the things that are happening around me, and that it’s so much more beautiful than all the bad that taints it.

I guess I could never see myself having that with anyone.” He pauses, and then I feel his finger under my chin, lifting it so that I’m looking up at him. “But then I met you,” he places a soft peck on my lips,“and I could see everything with you, Wendy.”

“Are you trying to ask me if I’m a virgin, Wendy?”

“Yes, I’m a virgin,”

“But it…” I lick my lips nervously. “It kind of felt like you knew what you were doing last night.”

“Kind of?”

“Okay, it really felt like it.” I pause. “Lots of porn?”

“God, no. I hate th...

“I, um… I… God. This is emb...

“Don’t laugh, but I’ve… I’ve read a few how-to books on…” he clears his throat, “the subject.”

“Yup,” I respond. “And yes. I’m a virgin.” He flushes and coughs once, and it’s comical how awkward he’s being. And I thought I was nervous. “Cool.”

I figure out why I like the pictures so much. It’s because I look happy in them.

Actually, I’ve never done something like this in my life. But I’ve read a lot of books with this exact scenario in my lifetime, and I figure it can’t be too hard.

He posted it, tagged me, and there’s also a caption at the bottom. It reads: My pretty girl. Holy shit. Holy shit. I click on his account, and it dawns on me that this is the only post he has on his account.

A part of me thinks it’s really fucking sweet that he’s this excited to be with me and that he wants to show me off. I’m so used to not being wanted, and it’s strange; feeling like someone is actually happy to have me. Like someone is proud to have me.

But sometimes, unfamiliarity is a good thing.

“Why haven’t you thrown them out yet then?” “You gave them to me,” I shrug. “It didn’t feel right to throw them out.” His eyes and smile soften at my response. “Don’t worry. I’ll get you new ones every time the ones you already have die. That way, you’ll never have to have dead flowers on your nightstand.” I feel my heart flutter in my chest. How is he so perfect? And how is he mine?

Did I really think Wendy wanted to use a sock as a condom? I know she said she wants me, but I highly doubt she wants me that badly.

“You know, sometimes, I would think you were made for me, Wendy Marin.” I take her hand in mine, lifting it up to kiss the backs of her knuckles. “But now? Now I’m fucking sure of it.”

“You can’t control how someone feels about you. You can do your best to show them things could be different, but that’s the most you can do.”