In this sensational New Adult debut by Alex Rosa, boyfriends are too much trouble. So what’s the harm in a little fun?
With an abusive relationship behind her, Skyler moves out of her Orange County apartment, changes her phone number, cuts ties with her friends, and moves in with her brother Josh, a talent agent with a spare room in his incredible house in Hollywood.
Josh is happy to take Skyler under his wing, but he has one rule: she can’t sleep with his roommate, Blake. That’s fine by Skyler. She doesn’t want a man in her life right now—and certainly not cocky Blake who’s with a different girl every night. But his all-American boy charm and his ripped model physique are difficult to refuse. Josh will never know if no one ever tells him. And a little secret now and then never hurt anyone…
"Tryst is rife with raw angst, delicious sexual tension, and toe-curling romance. It’s the kind of story that keeps you riveted from beginning to end."—Christina Lee, author of the Between Breaths series
“Brother’s hot best friend? A steamy friends with benefits arrangement? What more could you want? Tryst is a fun, tantalizing read!”—New York Times and USA Today bestselling author Cora Carmack
When Alex Rosa isn’t scouring city parks or cafes to write, she is most likely trying to convince her friends to join her on her next adventure. A sufferer of wanderlust, she is always looking for a new mountain to climb, a canyon to hike, or a plane to board. Her résumé consists of coroner, zoo worker, and most recently executive assistant, but she finds her home amongst words, whether it is in books or in film. Her obsessions are on the brink of bizarre, but that’s just the way she likes it.
Release date:
March 17, 2015
Publisher:
InterMix
Print pages:
336
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I watch my brother, Josh, burden himself with my belongings. His tall, lean frame scrambles by me, and his short black hair is damp with sweat. Why he chose to wear a tight V-neck sweater and jeans in the August heat is beyond me. I sigh as I swing my backpack over my shoulder. Josh is trying to manage a box and my luggage as we enter through the front door. He stumbles into the living room, and I remember that, though my brother is suave on the surface, clumsiness is genetic.
I love that Josh cares, but it can be overwhelming sometimes. It does make me smile that he’s so excited to let me live with him for a while. I should consider myself lucky. Sometimes I think he believes he owes it to me because he was gone so long for school, but it’s not as if we grew apart. He’s a twenty-seven-year-old business professional. Even the title makes me giggle, but he definitely has made a name for himself as an agent for some big-shot Hollywood talent agency. From what he’s told me, he has some famous clientele. He won’t tell me anything else about them, which I think is silly.
I set my backpack on the coffee table and finally turn my head to give this place a good look. Jeez, it’s nice in here, nothing like my shitty apartment in Orange County. His place is modern, minimal, and mostly white, with little contrast other than the large red sofa and love seat that face a large flat-screen TV. The place is not necessarily lacking in ‘bachelor pad,’ with a glowing red neon beer sign on the back wall, and black-and-white photographs of LA’s skyline.
I guess I knew my brother was never struggling for money. In a way, it makes me curious why he even has a roommate.
Josh interrupts my thoughts. He’s giddy, the corners of his mouth reaching from ear to ear, and it makes me smile, too. “I’m going to grab the last of your stuff, okay?” Before I can answer, he’s already out the door.
I’m glad my presence makes him happy. I feel like I am intruding on his bachelor life. Who wants to have their little twenty-two-year-old sister living with them?
I realize I’m parched. The large living room opens into the kitchen, where a dark granite island and counters greet me. The kitchen is spotless, with minimal kitchenware—a toaster, coffeemaker, and of course, a stainless-steel fridge. I wonder if this place is clean only because they knew I would be arriving. That would be something Josh would do.
I open cabinets, searching for a glass, and on the second attempt, a voice startles me.
“Cups are on the right, near the fridge.”
I turn around, and my breath catches in my throat at the sight. A barely dressed boy—er, man?—is standing there, idly watching me.
“Um, thank you.” I grab a glass and fill it with water.
He gives me this all-American-boy grin, seeming to enjoy my obvious discomfort. “No problem. Skyler, isn’t it?”
I take a sip and respond. “Yes. Roommate, I presume?” Getting those words out wasn’t so hard. As I wait for his response, my eyes drag down to his tan, toned physique, and I linger a little too long on the V at the edge of his navy-blue boxer briefs.
His voice brings me back to his stark, forest-colored eyes that complement his dark brown hair. Those eyes are distracting.
“I’ve got a name. Blake. Blake Everett. Nice to meet you.”
Was that a hint of attitude?Without a second thought and no shame, he leans his half-naked body over and raises his hand to shake mine. I can tell he’s enjoying this, and it only makes me feel uneasier.
I shake his hand as confidently as possible, and my imbedded manners kick in. “Nice to meet you too, Blake. Thanks for letting me stay here.”
He smirks, and I notice him giving me the once-over. I suddenly wish I wore nicer jeans rather than a torn-up pair. I don’t like the feeling of being under his judgmental eyes, because I am nowhere near able to compare to this Greek god. I run my hands through my curly black hair, and wish I’d brushed it before leaving this morning. He’s so pretty it hurts.
I’m aching to hear some sort of response, but I’m not sure he has one. I worry that I’m not welcome, but as he opens his mouth to respond, a voice from a bedroom down the hall interrupts. It’s high-pitched and squeaky.
“Blaaaaaaakkkeee, I’m thirsty. Come love me now!”
I flush crimson, realizing the implications of the whiny girl voice and his attire. If I am not mistaken, he flushes, too, but the arrogant smirk remains. Why are his lips so distracting?
He laughs, no doubt over my shocked expression, and then shrugs as if that explains everything.
“You mind if I take this?” he asks. He snatches the glass of water out of my hand, takes a quick sip, and winks at me. With that, he turns on his heels and walks back toward his bedroom. I hear his door shut.
He has me fuming. What an asshole is the only thought I can muster. That water was mine, not for some floozy he’s bedding. I take a deep breath, annoyed with my body’s hormones and with myself.
I hear Josh coming in through the front door, and I try to gather my equilibrium. He appears in the kitchen and utters the same statement that Blake made moments before. “Cups are on the far right next to the fridge.”
I scowl. “I’m aware. Thanks.”
His eyebrows shoot up. “Whoa, what’s wrong with you all of a sudden?”
“Nothing. I just met your roommate. He’s kind of a character.” Be cool.
As if completely understanding what I mean, he nods.
I can’t help myself, and continue, “You know he has a girl in his room right now?”
Josh smirks, which is a response I wasn’t expecting. “I hate to say it, but you might want to get used to that.” He sighs. “I hate that I’m bringing you into this environment.”
Environment?“Josh, I’m not a child anymore. I’m an adult. This environment is fine. I’m a college student, for Christ’s sake. It just caught me off guard, okay?”
The thought of bringing a guy home with me seems so far out of reach. No matter what environment I’m in, my overprotective brother will probably throw him out. Then I wonder if he brings girls home, which is weird.
He raises his hands in mock defense. “I’d hate to have to witness you bringing dudes home, but”—he winces at his words—“you’re an adult, and it’s whatever.”
I laugh and raise an eyebrow. “It’s ‘whatever’?”
He shakes his head, laughing. “Yeah, whatever. Just do me one favor.”
This brother-sister powwow has me reeling. “What?”
“Just don’t sleep with Blake. Like, ever. I mean it.” He squints as he says it, as if it’s weird to ask, and he’d be right.
I let out a laugh at his request. “Please, Josh, that will never happen. Good-looking or not, he’s obviously not my type. What does he do anyway that he’s home midday on a Thursday? I’m assuming my GPA wouldn’t even consider him.”
Josh visibly relaxes, and I wonder why but decide not to ask.
“He’s an actor, model . . . whatever.”
“There’s that word again: whatever. Do you represent him?”
He shakes his head. “God, no. I mean, he’s my best friend, but I’m glad I don’t work with him, although his agent is from my firm. He does pretty well for himself, but he’s not my gig.” He shrugs his shoulders nonchalantly.
“Sometimes I forget how Hollywood you are.” I’ll stick to my MCAT prep and biology texts, thank you.
He rolls his eyes at me. “Let me show you where you’re staying. It’s not as private as you might like, but hey, it’s a free room, right?”
The corners of my lips rise and I follow him into the living room. There’s a staircase to the left. I follow him up the stairs to a generously sized loft that overlooks the first floor. I can see what he means about privacy. There’s a skylight in the high-vaulted ceiling, and it’s my only view of the outside world. There’s also a large bed with a stark white comforter and pillows. It looks comfy, kind of like a cloud. Then there’s a dark-wooded chest of drawers. A misplaced-looking desk is against the same wall with a vanity mirror above it.
I smile at Josh as he looks to me for some sort of response.
“It used to be the office, but to be honest, we never used it. I bought the bed and the dresser, and kind of put everything together quickly. I hope it’s okay. Oh, and check this out . . .” He walks past me to the far wall and pulls at a string holding back a maroon-colored curtain. He tugs at the curtain, pulling it toward me, and it becomes similar to a wall.
“I couldn’t have my little sister out here in the open, ya know?”
I can’t help myself. I lean in and hug my brother. He’s helped me more than he’ll ever realize. He hated my ex-boyfriend, and after what happened, he’s done everything possible to make the situation better. I’m lucky that I didn’t have to switch schools. Moving and finding a new job was easier to do with his support. I have absolutely no idea what I would do, or where I would be, without him.
He hugs me back. “Everything will be okay, Sprout.”
I smile at the endearment and let him go. “Thank you so much, Josh. I don’t know how I will ever repay you.”
“Finish school. That’s all I ask.”
“You sound like Dad.”
At the mention of one of my parents, we both sigh inwardly, missing them instantaneously.
Cutting through the tension like the knowing older brother he is, he wraps his arm around my shoulder. “Let’s bring your stuff up now.”
***
I watch Josh place the last box in my bedroom.
“Have you applied to med schools yet?” he asks.
“Yeah, I have. I submit a few more applications in a couple of weeks, too.” There’s no way I’d miss those deadlines. I have worked too hard to give up now.
“Good.”
Jeez, always the responsible brother.
I fidget in my seat. “Are you coming to my game this Saturday? It’s against Cornell.”
“I’ll be there.” He smiles.
I relax. I don’t want to swamp my brother with my soccer game schedule, but I figured he would at least want to see the game where we play his alma mater. I play for UCLA’s women’s soccer team, and because of soccer, I’m on nearly a full-ride scholarship for my bachelor’s degree. It’s my senior year, and my last season.
I sigh, realizing the time. “I have to get to work.”
“Ya know, Skyler, you don’t have to work. I would be willing to help you out while you go to school. I know you only have to pay for textbooks and all, but still.”
I shake my head. “I will not burden you more than I have to, Josh. I should work. It keeps me busy and gives me some extra cash. I was working before, you know?”
“I know. I just want you to focus on school. It’s not every day that someone in our family will be a doctor. I just want to make sure you’re successful.”
I give him a playful jab in the arm. “Like you?”
He shoves me back and rolls his eyes. “Your way is a whole hell of a lot more honorable.”
“Stop it,” I say, and get up to get ready for work.
Chapter 2
I thought working at a twenty-four-hour coffee shop might make the most sense since I could pick up hours at any time of day, and maybe squeeze in some studying here and there. Remembering how to make which latte this way and that coffee another has been more complicated than memorizing my medication chart for class. You would be surprised at what kind of concoctions some people order when they are trying to burn the midnight oil.
The only enjoyable part of my job is my barista counterpart, Tucker. He helped me fumble through my first week of mocha debacles.
“Tucker, tell me something funny.”
He raises a brow at me as he refills the milk carafe. “Rough day? I thought you were moving in with your brother today?”
“I did. I met his roommate today, too.”
“Oh, the mystery friend?”
I roll my eyes. I’d told Tucker that it was strange that I had never met my brother’s best friend, and that in light of the situation, I hoped he was pretty to look at.
“Yeah, mystery solved,” I spit out.
“He must be a looker for you to be so upset.” He snickers.
I pick up a dish towel and throw it at him. “How do you know?”
“The one thing I have learned about you is that you rarely mean what you say when it comes to boys. You’re looking for a distraction, but you don’t want too much of one. He must be cute.”
“And a slut,” I say with emphasis.
“My favorite. When am I invited over?” His smile practically oozes seduction.
Tucker loves men, and for him, the cuter and crazier, the better.
“Never at this rate. He had a girl over when I was there. He came into the kitchen, wearing just his underwear, and then I heard this chirpy voice down the hall beckoning him to love her. It was just gross.”
He laughs. “Jealous much?”
“Shut up. I don’t even know the guy.”
“Just because someone is getting some doesn’t mean you have to hate on him.”
I look for something else to throw, and he continues to laugh at me.
“Whose side are you on, Tucker?”
“I’m on the side of getting you laid!”
I guffaw. “I got only one rule from my brother, and that is to not sleep with Blake.”
Tucker leans against the counter, practically swooning. “Even his name is hot.”
“You’re not helping.” My voice goes into a high-chirp tone.
He regains his composure. “Strange rule.”
“I thought so, too. Did you get the large latte with an extra shot of espresso?”
“Are we talking about coffee now?” He sighs as if the topic of boys is way more palpable than work.
Ding.
The front door signals an incoming customer, and I’m thrown as I see the person stroll into my coffee shop.
I whisper “Tucker” forcefully as he turns around to walk up to the register to greet the customer.
Tucker puts on his best smile. “Hello, how may I help you?”
“Can I get a large caramel mocha with soy, please?” The voice is crisp and beyond cool.
“Absolutely, sir, it would be my pleasure. Your name?”
The customer swivels his view to behind the counter and makes eye contact with me. His wry smile forms as his eyes dart over me again, and my heart quickens its pace.
“My name is Blake.” He looks amused. “Hey, roomie.”
I can’t stop staring, but neither can he. “Hey, Blake.”
“Nice to meet you, Blake,” Tucker cuts in. “I think I want to be your new best friend.”
“TUCKER!” is the only thing I can manage. I watch as Blake laughs.
I feel my face flush bright red. What is the appropriate reaction here?
Cutting off my outburst, Tucker can’t even help himself as he extends his manicured hand to Blake. “I’ve heard so much about you.”
It seems even Tucker isn’t immune to Blake’s looks.
Blake shoots me a deadly smirk as he looks back to Tucker. “Uh-oh, am I in trouble?” His voice is inviting and has a wonderfully deep timbre.
I find my eyes dragging over his tight black, fitted V-neck shirt and think idly, I know what he looks like underneath that. I’m mildly distracted by the memory of his hips.
“Big trouble with this one.” Tucker raises his eyebrows, signaling toward me.
Blake, without missing a beat, says, “I’m not too good with first impressions. Maybe I can make it up to you, roomie.”
He annoys me. Do I look like some bimbo who will drop everything for him?Because I’m not.Just because he’s good-looking doesn’t mean he controls me with those distracting looks of his. He needs to be put in his place, at least for the sake of all girl-dom. A boy should not be allowed to have that sort of power over women and their hormones.
I can see Tucker opening his mouth to respond for me, and I just can’t have that. I give Blake a stern expression as I purse my lips and shake my head. “That really won’t be necessary. It was a caramel mocha, wasn’t it?” I exaggerate my movements as I make my way to the coffee machine.
He squints in disbelief. “With soy milk, please.”
I nod. “With soy. Of course you would want soy. Let me get that for you.”
Is my voice dripping with disdain? Because I want it to.
Blake muffles his laughter and turns to Tucker. “Is she always like this?”
Tucker leans on the counter, joining Blake in observing me as I make his drink. “Nope, you seem to be the first person I’ve met to rile her up so much.”
I whip my head around, shocked. “Tucker Mitchell, would you stop it? You are supposed to be on my side.” I walk up to the counter, stomping my feet, and hand Blake his drink. “Here’s your caramel mocha . . . with soy.” I fake a smile and bat my eyelashes.
His catlike eyes, which are flicked with a wicked gold gleam, watch me as he sips the drink. “You’re kind of cute when you’re angry.”
Did he really just say that?
“She is, isn’t she?” Tucker butts in.
I go wide-eyed at both of them, darting my gaze back and forth. I want to scream.
When did I lose control of my life?
Seeming proud of himself, Blake nods his good-bye to Tucker, who is still staring dreamily, and then looks at me. “I’ll be seeing you around, roomie.” I swear he’s laughing at me behind that beguiling hot half-smile.
He strolls his hot body out of my coffee shop without looking back.
Once I hear the door shut, I scream, “Tucker! What the hell?”
Tucker looks at me, and with no shame or remorse, says, “I’d hit that.”
I close my eyes and slump my shoulders, exasperated.
There’s no hope for me.
Chapter 3
As I drive down my new street at close to one in the morning, I’m on my blue tooth with Tucker. It’s our ritual so we don’t fall asleep on the drive home.
“Tucker, please stop.” I say, exasperated with the topic. When Tucker sees fresh meat, he can’t be stopped.
“I’m just saying, rules-shmules. He seems interested.”
“But what if I’m not?”
“Oh, you definitely are.”
“I don’t want anything to do with him. You can have him.”
“I would gladly take that one off your hands.”
“I don’t know what I’m even talking about right now. I haven’t been their roommate one full day and I already have you telling me to break all the rules for one cute guy. There are plenty of fish in the sea, and I would really rather have my pick of some other fish.”
“See, that’s what’s wrong with you. Stop comparing your men to fish. They are oh-so much more, hon.”
My problem with men goes far beyond comparing them to fish.
Even though his tone makes me laugh, I sigh. “Good night, Tucker. I’ll call you tomorrow.”
“Good night, Skye.”
With that, I toss my phone onto the passenger seat and pull up to the condo, but my eyebrows furrow at what’s in the driveway.Three cars. There should only be two considering I’m just now getting home.
Aggravated, I realize I need to park a block away now. Who the hell could be taking my spot?
***
Stumbling up the steps to the front door, tired and annoyed from working so late at night, I put my key into the lock.
I open the door as if I do it every day, and hang my keys on the wall next to it. I am so ready to crawl into bed. Midnight mochas would exhaust anyone.
I hear giggles, and my head shoots up at what’s going on in the living room.
The lights are off but the TV is on, and there on the couch is Blake in a mildly compromising position with a brunette. Does that guy ever let up?
I guess I know whose car is in my spot now.
Normally my reaction would have been shock and embarrassment for myself and the other individuals, but I find myself annoyed,so annoyed,and in no way shocked. This guy is unbelievable.
I make eye contact with Blake, who is straightening himself out and shushing the girl. His eyes even glitter in the dark as they meet mine. His stare is hauntingly sexy in the shadows.
The moment is getting too awkward for my liking, and the pretty brunette won’t stop her annoying giggle. I decide to scurry by them, and I have to bite my tongue hard to avoid saying something snarky.
I glance at Blake as I walk by, and he actually looks a little embarrassed. Or am I making that up?I feel his penetrating stare on me all the way up the stairs. It’s unnerving.
I pull the curtain to my little loft, making it into my personal room. The curtain is staying that way, as far as I’m concerned. I peel off my clothes in the darkness and crawl into my new bed. I sigh, wondering how much my voice will carry into the living room, and then wonder how much the sounds below will carry into my room. Ew.
I listen closely and I am disgusted with myself. What am I listening for? Moans and groans? No. I am hoping they take it somewhere else.
Sure enough, after a bit of muffled whispers, I hear the duo make their way down the hall and hear Blake’s door shut.
I wonder if that was the same girl from earlier. Probably not.
Tucker, no doubt, will find this story even more amusing than the last. It has me realizing that Blake and his escapades already make me angry, and he and I have only spoken a handful of words to each other.
I close my eyes and eventually drift into an unsettling sleep. All I can think of are those haunting green eyes and that annoying smile.
***
My eyes flicker open due to the bright sun shining right above me through the skylight. I am going to have to do something about that. Then I wonder if the sunlight isn’t what woke me, but instead the wafting smell of freshly brewed coffee.
Working in a coffee shop, I thought the smell would make me hurl, but the truth is, Tucker is a terrible influence. I swear that if it were allowed, I would have a coffee IV installed in my arm.
I climb out of bed, hoping that it’s my brother downstairs. I slip on a tank top and a pair of shorts, eager for some sibling chitchat. I need to mention last night to my brother, though he probably won’t find it surprising.
I look briefly in the mirror, running my fingers through my midnight black curls as a haphazard attempt to tame the lion’s mane before walking downstairs to the kitchen.
The moment my bare feet make contact with the wood floor, my breath catches in my throat. Blake swivels his body around to greet me. “Morning, roomie.” His voice is like a shot of caffeine that ignites my body. How does he do that?
My eyebrows furrow, and I think turning around and running back up to my room might be considered rude. “Good morning.”
I take a few steps toward the kitchen and worry that I’m intruding. His eyes make their journey up my body, and I feel extremely underdressed. My skin heats as I peer down at my thin tank and short shorts. I’m an idiot.
“Hungry? I made you food.” He puts his pantie-dropping grin on. Is he always like this? What is he playing at? Or is he just being nice?
Maybe I should give him the benefit of the doubt. Plus, what would he want with someone like me when he looks the way he does? Seriously.
I tiptoe to the counter, and he moves across the kitchen to dispense scrambled eggs onto the empty plate sitting in front of me. I’m watching the eggs, but realize that Blake is watching me. He has this smile, as if he is experiencing some private joke, and it makes my insides clench. How is it possible for a person to have this effect on anyone? It’s just downright unfair. Do other girls get like this in his presence?
Maybe I’m just a dime a dozen.It’s an unsettling thought.
I pretend he doesn’t affect me, and I run my hand through my hair while taking in a breath.
He chuckles, and I want to crawl out of my skin I feel so embarrassed. I’m so at the whim of my hormones, it’s ridiculous. No one should have to witness this. Maybe Tucker is right. Maybe I should just get laid and get it out of my system, and then maybe I wouldn’t be having issues controlling my libido. But Blake can’t be the one to solve these issues. I must remember rule numero uno!
He places the pan back on the stove, and as if the whole thing was timed, the toaster erupts. He snags the two wheat bread pieces and spins around gracefully to put them on my plate. His muscles ripple underneath his shirt when he moves.
I wish it were the food making my mouth water,but that would be a lie.
Before he says anything after his entertaining dance around the kitchen, I catch his eyes scanning my body again as I lean over the counter. Does this guy have any manners?I reflexively stand, straightening my posture.
“Ta-da!” He holds his hands up like a practiced magician.
I smile. “Ta-da?”
He shrugs, and it’s another adorable maneuver. “Yeah, ta-da. I made you breakfast. I wanted to show you that I’m not such a bad guy.” He turns around, maybe to avoid a judgmental stare as he opens the fridge. “And I’m sorry about last night. I probably should have been a little more courteous.”
Finally deciding to commit to the meal he’s made me, I grab a fork and lose my mouth filter along the way. “Yeah, you could probably be a bit better at that.”
As the fridge door slams shut, the sound catches my attention, and I look up to see Blake eyeing me. I feel tense under his scrutiny, and I decide on a subject change. “Is Josh gone?”
Shocking me and not asking permission, he grabs for my fork and eats some eggs.
“Hey, I thought those were mine?” I watch his sculpted lips slide over my fork. Deep breaths.
He hands me back the fork, grinning boyishly.
“Josh usually leaves around eight or nine in the morning.”
I stick my fork back in my eggs, bringing it to my mouth, remembering where this fork has just traveled. I didn’t realize I could be jealous of silverware. “Oh.”
“When do you have school?”
This encounter has sexual tension written all over it, but how is he still managing to treat me as if he has known me forever? My stomach is still in knots with his close proximity. I better get used to this. He is my roommate.
“I go to school Mondays and Wednesdays from eleven to five, and have soccer practice once a week too, along with fitting in working when I can.”
His eyes have this way of captivating me, and it takes everything in my being to tear my eyes away from his. “Your brother talks a lot about you.”
I finish off the last bit of eggs and take a bite out of my toast. “I hope it’s all good.”
“Mostly.” That wry smile is back.
“Well, I have some stories about him, too.” I decide I can’t eat anymore. I’m not hungry for food.
He sips his coffee, and I want to probe into his life now. “When do you work?” I worry that my tone comes off sarcastic.
He chuckles. “Eh, the life of an artist really doesn’t go according to a schedule. I just finished a cologne ad campaign, and next week I have some auditions.”
An artist? Who is he kidding?
My eyebrows shoot up. “Busy boy.”
He chuckles again. “I wish I were busier.”
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