Seduced by My Hot Roommate Ch. 03

I try to sleep, but my head is swimming with emotions. My body is buzzing with adrenaline. Sleep seems like an impossible task. Eventually, I sit up, deciding to get the heck out of this apartment for a while. It's still early, especially for a Friday night, and I can't think straight knowing that Jeremy is just one thin wall away from me. A year, or even six months, ago I would have been out with friends, drinking at a bar, or dancing the night away at a club. When did I become the little old lady who's in bed by 10pm?

I'm going to see Chris. What I have to say to him can't wait until tomorrow. He'll be home from dinner with his parents by now. I need to get some things off my chest, and until I do so I'm not going to be able to sleep. Maybe he'll thank me for my honesty, and perhaps we'll work through this complication and come out a stronger couple. Maybe he won't forgive me and this will be the end of us. Either way, I have to come clean.

After stopping into my room to change into jeans, I slip on my sneakers and head for the door, taking care to be quiet so I don't alert my roommate to the fact that I'm leaving. I shake my head as I take the stairs down to the first level, muttering to myself, "So stupid. What the fuck. That was so stupid." I sigh, shaking my head again. I cheated on my boyfriend tonight. I am a terrible person. Sure, it was just a kiss, a very passionate kiss, but if I hadn't come to my senses when I did...I would have slept with Jeremy. I didn't, but I wanted to. So, what do I tell Chris? If he asks 'do you have feelings for him', what do I say? If he tells me to promise it won't ever happen again, can I make that vow? I'd be lying to myself if I said that kiss meant nothing to me, that I didn't feel anything, because I did feel something. I can admit that I did feel a spark, but is it worth throwing away a fourteen-month relationship for momentary lapse in self-control? I don't think it is.

At the end of the street, I descend the staircase onto the subway platform below. I scan my prepaid pass and quicken my pace down the remainder of the stairs as I hear the train approaching the station. I make it just as the doors are sliding open. I slip inside and take a seat, reaching into my bag for my phone to call Chris and let him know I'm heading over to see him. When I can't feel it, I pull the bag open wide and look inside. No phone. "Shit," I whisper. I must have forgot it at the apartment. It's too late to go back for it now, the train has already left the station. Oh well, I'm sure I'll survive without it for a few hours.

Chris' apartment complex is only one subway stop away from mine. Usually, weather permitting, I walk but I won't walk alone this late at night. His apartment is only one bedroom, but it is much nicer than my place. He has huge windows with gorgeous views of the city, a large walk-in closet in the bedroom, and a washer/dryer combo in the unit. I have to haul my laundry bag down three flights of stairs to the dank basement of my apartment building when I need to do laundry, plus it's pay-per-use. Chris has better water pressure, too. I love showering at his place.

The subway train starts to slow down, so I stand up and make my way over to the sliding doors. When the train comes to a stop, I'm the first to step off onto the platform and make my way above ground. I'm anxious to see Chris and get this conversation over with. As I approach his building, I think I see him, opening the door for a leggy brunette and walking in behind her. It was only the back of his head, but I'm almost positive it was Chris. I quicken my pace, hoping to catch up with him before he gets into the elevator.

In the lobby, I scan the room for Chris, but I must have just missed him. I push the button to call the elevator back down. He's on the ninth floor, otherwise I would take the stairs. On the ride up, I try to think of what I'm going to say. 'Chris, I'm sorry for coming over so late, but it couldn't wait.' No. It's true, but it sounds too urgent. 'Sorry for showing up like this, I forgot my phone. Can we talk?' Then what? 'I think we need to continue our conversation from earlier. I was so surprised that you wanted me to move in, I didn't get a chance to think about what that means for us.' Okay, but what about kissing Jeremy? Should I bring that up before or after we discuss what living together means for our relationship? If I start with that, he might not listen to my worries about moving in with him, or at least not take them seriously.

The elevator reaches the ninth floor too soon. I'm not ready. I still don't know what I'm going to say.

The doors glide open in time for me to witness Chris entering his apartment. Only, he's not alone. The leggy brunette is with him, and her lips are locked on his. I stare, too shocked to move. The elevator doors close again before I can snap myself out of my stupor. I hastily push the door open button, adrenaline hitting me like a slap to the face. When the elevator starts to move rather than release me, I start cursing under my breath, rapidly pushing the button again and again. I give up, riding the elevator down to the main floor and then back up to the ninth. This time when the doors open, I step right off.

I approach Chris' apartment door slowly, a sense of dread washing over me. I can't believe he's cheating on me. Who knew karma worked so swift and deliberately? I didn't suspect a thing. How long has this been going on? Is this a one-time thing or has he been seeing this girl for a while? Why did he ask me to move in with him if he still wants to fuck other people? I feel so unbelievably stupid.

I raise my right hand, curling it into a fist and I'm about to knock when hear something inside that makes me pause.

"Ooh...yes!"

The breathy moan is followed by words of encouragement, too quiet for me to hear, and met with a deep groan on Chris' behalf. My hand falls limply to my side as I listen to their loud, wet kisses, and I am overcome with a strange feeling, like I'm imposing on something I was never meant to know about. I shouldn't feel guilty. I should be angry. I'm too stunned to move, let alone work up the courage to knock and interrupt the pair inside the apartment.

"Yes, baby, yes," The mystery brunette cries out, "Don't stop! You lick my pussy so fucking good, baby. S-so good!"

My stomach turns and a sour taste rises up the back of my throat. I stumble backwards, away from the door. I can't be here. I can't do this. I came to confess that I fucked up, but instead I got way more than I bargained for. It's one thing to discover your significant other has cheated, but another thing entirely to overhear your boyfriend sloppily eating some chick's pussy. I think I'm going to be sick. I get back in the elevator, praying I can keep my shit together until I exit this building.

By the time I get outside and inhale a few deep breaths of fresh air, I no longer feel the urge to vomit. I am, however, shaking like a fucking leaf. My legs feel like gelatin, but I force myself to keep walking, to put more distance between myself and the unfaithful asshole that lives up in apartment 9E. Once I put a couple blocks between me and Chris' apartment building, I start having regrets. I should have pounded on that door and confronted him. I should have told him thanks, because up until that moment I wasn't sure if moving in with him was what I wanted, and now I know it's definitely not what I want. I should have at least told him we were done and to go fuck himself. Instead, I ran away, like a spineless coward.

I decide I need a drink.

There's a bar a few more blocks up this road, close to my apartment. Shannon and I used to stop in almost every Tuesday, since they do a Taco Tuesday promo with buy one get one free margaritas. I haven't been since before Shan moved; Chris prefers to buy from the liquor store and drink at home, and Jeremy is in AA so obviously we don't go out to the bars. It must be after eleven o'clock, if I had to take a guess since I don't have my phone to check, and it's Friday, so that explains why the bar is so packed. I make my way through the crowded room to the bar-top to order a drink.

When one of the bartenders points to me and asks for my ID, I hand it over without hesitation, asking, "Can I get a shot?"

The girl raises her eyebrows as she returns my ID card to my hand. She prompts, "What kind of shot?"

"Right," I internally roll my eyes at myself. "Uh...tequila? Make it a double-shot." It's rare that I order a shot. Generally, I like to have a mixed drink and I take my time sipping it. I don't have time for all that. I just want the alcohol to hit me quick and numb my still-quivering nerves. A tequila shot should do the trick.

"Sure thing." She grabs a bottle from the shelf behind her, salts the rim of the shot glass, and pours the amber-liquor in the small glass, sliding it across the bar towards me, along with a wedge of lime. I lift the shot glass to my lips and down the tequila in one quick gulp, sucking on the lime immediately after. When I look to the bar again, I see the bartender standing in the same spot, watching me. She smirks, asking, "Want another?"

I nod, not quite able to bring myself to smile back just yet. "One more. Thanks." I reach into my purse for a twenty-dollar bill. I place it beside my empty shot glass, which is soon replaced with a full one. I pick this one up, lick the salt from the rim, and gulp down the tequila in one swallow before sucking the wedge of lime dry.

While the bar-keep is retrieving change for my twenty, I glance down the length of the bar to the only TV in the joint, currently broadcasting a hockey game. My gaze drops from the television to the bar-top, where I stare off into space until a movement distracts me. I blink, my eyes refocusing on the arm of the man at the other end of the bar, just below the TV. He wraps his hand around the glass in front of him, lifts it off the bar ever so slightly, and then places it back down. He does this two more times before I notice the anchor tattooed on the inside of his forearm. I know that tattoo.

Forgetting about my change entirely, I get up from the stool I'd been perching on and slip past the other bar patrons as I move towards the television. My suspicions are confirmed as I approach the dark-haired man with the anchor tattoo, broad shoulders and well-toned back. I tap him on the shoulder.

"Jeremy?" His muscles tense up at the sound of his name. "What are you doing here?"

Jeremy sighs, not bothering to turn and look at me. "Couldn't sleep," He replies just when I think he's not going to.

I'm struck with guilt when I realize that Jeremy must be here because of me. He pretended my rejection didn't mean anything to him, but clearly it did. He must have heard me leave the apartment, knew I was going to see Chris, and couldn't fight the urge to drink. There's a reason he swore off not only booze but women, too. He's in a vulnerable spot, right in the middle of the road to recovery, and I'm a giant fucking pothole he just crashed into. I was so busy worrying about myself, about cheating on my boyfriend, I completely overlooked the fact that Jeremy is supposed to be staying away from women as a part of his sobriety. If I hadn't been so selfish, neither of us would be here right now.

"I couldn't sleep either," I say, squeezing between Jeremy and the man seated beside him so that I can look him in the face. His brown eyes stare past me, at his drink on the bar-top. Assuming the least judgmental tone I can muster, I point out, "You really shouldn't be here. How much have you had?"

Jeremy shakes his head, warning, "Don't do that, Lexi. I'm not your problem to worry about. I don't need you checking up on me, and I sure as hell don't need you running your mouth to my sister about my business."

"Hey," I protest unflinchingly, "Don't get mad at me because you got caught doing something you know you shouldn't be doing." I put my hand on his shoulder, squeezing gently as I urge, "Let's just go."

"No," Jeremy refuses.

"Come on," I try and reason with him, "It's late. I want to go. Don't make me walk alone." Jeremy sighs deeply through his nose. I drop my hand from his shoulder to the back of his hand, which is sitting atop his thigh, adding softly, "Please."

"Fine." He reluctantly agrees as he shrugs my hand off his. The stool scrapes along the floor as he gets to his feet. He gestures for me to lead the way. "Let's go."

I stride towards the door, hoping Jeremy is actually following right behind me. I abruptly pause at the door, trying to remember if I paid for my tequila shots or not. Someone bumps into me before reaching over my shoulder to push open the door.

"You forget something?" Jeremy questions close to my ear. His warm breath sends a shiver down my neck. A wave of desire rolls over me. I blame it on the tequila settling in my stomach.

"No," I step away from him, through the open doorway and out into the cool night air. I remember that I did pay after all. Left a decent tip, too.

"Where are you going?" Jeremy asks after I've walked a few paces away from him. "Our place is this way."

I spin back around in surprise, nearly tripping over my own feet. "I know," I state stubbornly, "I was just distracted." My cheeks are red from embarrassment, but hopefully it's too dark for Jeremy to see that.

"Sure you were," He says smugly, "And how much did you have to drink?"

"I'm not drunk," I roll my eyes, "I had two shots. I wasn't paying attention to where I was going, that's all."

Jeremy waits for me to catch up to him before he continues along on the sidewalk beside me. For a few minutes, neither of us speaks. We have sat in comfortable silence together before, but this isn't one of those times. This silence is heavy with unspoken words, unasked questions, and it's uncomfortable as hell. I want to ask Jeremy why he went to that bar, but I know if I press him for answers it's only going to piss him off. It's not my place to scold him or be disappointed in his actions, and that's not what I want anyways. I just don't want to be the reason a struggling man turns to alcohol for comfort. Jeremy has come so far, nearly six whole months sober, and I hate to think he might have to start back over at day one.

"What made you go to that bar?" Jeremy asks me the very question I couldn't ask him. "I thought you would've gone to your boyfriend's."

Chris. I shudder as my brain flashes back to the noises I heard as I was standing outside his apartment. "I did," I admit. Out of the corner of my eye, I see Jeremy look at my face, maybe for the first time since the incident that occurred between us earlier this evening. I panic - I don't want to tell him about Chris cheating on me - so I lie, "He wasn't home."

"So you went to the bar?" Jeremy sounds confused, and I don't blame him.

"I have a lot on my mind, okay? I thought a drink might help." I try not to sound too defensive.

Jeremy seems contemplative. "I hear that."

I am about as confused at his reasons for being in that bar as he is of mine. "Why didn't you call someone, your sponsor or whatever, before you went and ruined your-"

"Lexi, wait," Jeremy interjects, "You don't know what you're talking about, okay? I'm going to say one thing about what happened back there, and then I don't want to ever talk about it again. All right?" I nod. "I went to that bar, and yes, I ordered a drink. Then I sat there for close to an hour and talked myself out of drinking it. I wanted to, believe me, but I didn't."

"But..." I have questions.

"I'm done talking about it." Jeremy stays firm.

"Okay." I concede. "I'm not going to ask you anything, I just want to say...you should be proud, Jeremy. I'm sure it takes a lot of self-control to stare down your weakness and not allow it to break you." Much more self-control than I have demonstrated tonight, that's for sure. "I don't know that I'd be able to be as strong as you."

"Right," Jeremy agrees sarcastically.

"I mean it," I insist, "Let yourself have the win. You made progress tonight." My shoulder bumps into his arm, the back of my hand brushes against his, and it feels kind of nice so I allow my touch to linger for a moment longer.

"Are you sure you're not drunk?"

"I'm positive." I'm a little annoyed he doesn't believe me. "I didn't realize you were one of those people who can't accept a compliment."

"I don't deserve your compliments," Jeremy tells me, "I'm an asshole."

"Cut the self-deprecating bullshit, Jeremy. I know you can be an ass, but you're a good guy. You work hard, and you never go out to reward yourself after work. I've seen the sacrifices you've made to avoid temptation and stay sober. Maybe you don't hear it enough, but you're doing a good job."

"Please shut up, Lexi." I frown at his refusal to accept any of the positive things I've said about him. He reminds me, "I've been a real dick to you, I baited you all week because I was bored and I knew you were horny. You should be pissed at me."

For some reason, this makes me laugh. I shake my head, but still the giggles persist. I guess it's the idea that Jeremy thinks by my giving into temptation and making out with him there has to be some kind of consequence, but in reality, it led me to the discovery that my boyfriend is cheating on me. So, I guess the only one being punished is me. Jeremy has nothing to lose. Still, he feels sorry for me, and that makes me pretty pathetic.

"What's so funny?" Jeremy looks genuinely confused.

"My life," I sigh as the giddiness rushes out of me like air from a popped balloon, "It's such a joke."

"It is not. What are you talking about?" We pause at a stoplight, waiting for the light to change and the crosswalk signal to come on.

Sure it is. "I have a job that bores the hell out of me. I hate my boss. My best friend lives hours away. My social life is dead. I don't even know where I'm going to be living three weeks from now. I think that stupid kiss is the least of my worries."

"Okay," Jeremy frowns, "If you say so."

He adds as we cross the street and our apartment building comes into view, "Just so you know, everyone hates their boss, Lex."

"Shannon loves her boss," I remind him.

"Shannon got lucky," Jeremy says, "What she has, it's rare. She won the lottery with that job."

"She's always lucky," I comment wistfully. "I wish she was here. I need her to tell me what to do."

"You don't need my sister to tell you what to do with your life." I think I detect annoyance in his tone. He thinks I'm being childish; I just know it. "Sorry to say it, but you're being overdramatic. You had a bad week at work, so what? Your boss is an asshole. Guess what? So is mine. You choose to have no social life, Lexi. You have friends. Go out with them instead of complaining."

"Oh, be honest, Jeremy," I accuse, "You just don't want me to say anything to Shan about your failure to seduce me. You know she'll give you shit for it, and you don't want to hear it."

"She gives me shit for everything. What else is new? What is it you're so worried about, Lexi?" He hesitates at the main door of our apartment building, punching in the door code, before taking a guess, "You don't want to move in with Chris, but you don't know how to tell him. You know you have another option." He swings the door open and waves me inside.

I actually know exactly how to tell Chris I can't move in with him, now that I caught him cheating on me, but I'm too ashamed to open up to Jeremy about it. It's embarrassing. The other option, though... "Is it really an option? I thought we ruled that out as a really bad idea? I mean, I thought it was pretty clear, especially since you were just in a bar with a beer in your hand. What happens next time you're bored and horny? Because let's face it, Jer, I'm not the only sexually-frustrated person in our apartment, and if I turn you down again, are you going to be back in that bar? I won't be the reason you lose your sobriety. Don't put me in that position."