Inseparable

Inseparable Book 2, Chapter 3: My New Roommate

Daphne

I was eager to get settled into my new room. I wasn’t totally OCD, but I definitely had a clearer mind when everything was neatly put away in the correct place. I arranged my books on the bookshelf, set up my laptop on the small work desk, and then I turned and started making up the twin bed. A bamboo fiber, antimicrobial cover put a nice layer between me and the suspicious stains on the mattress, and then my soft, purple cotton jersey sheets, with an even darker, almost indigo comforter. I finished it off with a fluffy lavender pillow.

“That’s a very purple bed,” I heard the now-familiar deep voice of Nathan Straight grumble from the doorway. Just the sound of it made the hairs on the back of my neck tingle. He was leaning casually against the door, his thick arms crossed over his chest as he gave my bed a dispassionate look.

I couldn’t help the smile that stretched my lips. “I went through a purple phase as an adolescent,” I explained, even though I knew the man probably couldn’t care less. “I outgrew it, but my brothers didn’t. They still buy me purple everything.” Thankfully, they had given up on buying me clothes, otherwise I’d probably have a whole closet full of purple cardigans. It was annoying, but also sweet, and every time I looked at my purple bed, I felt the warm, cozy feeling of home.

Nate grunted in response and pushed away from the door, crossing the room to the opposite bed. He sat down, and his bulk made the bed frame groan in protest. He leaned down to unlace his sports shoes. Since he was looking down, I allowed myself to stare openly. My eyes feasted on his broad shoulders and the ropey muscles in his forearms. All I was doing was looking, but I felt like butterflies were dancing in my belly.

Good Goddess, what kind of college guy was this? And why did he smell so enticing?

“So,” I started, hoping my tone was light and conversational, “What did you say your major was?”

He glanced up, and I felt the impact of his gaze like a punch to my solar plexus. He was quiet for a few seconds too long before he answered, “Philosophy.” Just the pause was enough to make me suspicious.

“Philosophy?” I squeaked after him.

His serious face split into a grin. If his Stoic expression was giving me butterflies, his grin was like an elevator dropping ten floors with no brakes. “What’s wrong with a philosophy degree?”

“Um,” I tried to gather my thoughts, which had just scattered all over the room like I had dropped a handful of marbles on the hardwood floor. “Nothing at all. But what exactly do you do with a philosophy degree?” I composed myself and raised an eyebrow. “Teach philosophy?”

He looked a trifle offended. “What’s wrong with that?” He asked, like he really did have great ambitions to take his hard earned degree and become a professor.

I scoured his side of the room for any evidence of a philosophy major. Nathan's side of the room was suspiciously bare, but maybe that was purposeful. Maybe as part of his life philosophy he subscribed to minimalism. There were only three textbooks on his bookshelf. One was a thick tome entitled The Law of Thought. The second was Kant’s Critique of Pure Reason. And the third one was backward, with the spine facing the wall, so I couldn’t read the title.

What kind of philosopher doesn’t arrange his books with all the spines facing outward?? Clearly, he was some kind of savage.

There was no laptop on his desk. There was only a ballpoint pen. His mattress was bare, but there was a rolled up sleeping bag on the foot of the bed. When I leaned back, I could see something like a duffle bag stuffed under the frame.

“Nothing wrong,” I said, straightening up, and pasting a smile on my face.

“Right,” he narrowed his eyes. “If you are going to be a shrink, you might want to work on your poker face.”

My smile melted into a frown. “Who said I’m going to be a shrink?”

“You did,” he said. He had finished removing his shoes. He lay back on his bare mattress and propped his feet on the rolled up sleeping bag. He laced his hands behind his head.

I tried to think back in my head to our previous conversation. It wasn't like we had said that much. Had I told him my major? “No I didn’t.”

Nate closed his eyes. “Someone must have mentioned it,” he said. “Do you mind if I get some sleep?”

My mouth was already opened to argue with him, but I snapped it closed. Then, just as quickly, I opened it again. “What about dinner?”

He peeled his eyes open and turned his head toward me. “Huh?”

“Well, do you normally cook something for yourself here, or do you eat at the university canteen?” Personally, I wasn’t much of a cook, and since I was on the full-room-and-board tuition plan, I usually took advantage of the free food from the school cafeteria. The food wasn’t that great, but it held me over until I went home for my long weekend visits, when my sweet sister-in-law and my former beta’s wife always made sure to load me up with all the delicious home-cooked food I could eat.

Just the thought of Bella's pancakes made my stomach grumble in protest.

“Neither,” came Nate’s flat reply. “I’m a fast food junkie. I’ll grab a burger on my way to work tonight.”

“Oh? Where do you work?”

He pushed up on one elbow to glare at me. “You ask too many questions.”

“I’m just curious,” I said defensively, feeling a little hurt. I wanted to be friends with my new roommate, and it didn’t seem like we were getting off to a very promising start.

He sighed loudly and lay back down, this time throwing one arm over his eyes like he was trying to block me out. “I have a third shift security gig,” he said flatly. And I could tell by the way he shut his mouth that he had no intention of saying anything more.

I wasn’t sure I believed that he was a philosophy major. Nor did I believe that junk food fueled that perfect, masculine physique. But somehow, the fact that he was working a security job at night seemed like the most truthful thing he had said to me so far. I realized not everyone had the luxury of having twin alpha big brothers with copious financial resources to finance their education. I kind of respected the man more, knowing he was working his way through school.

For one more, luxurious moment, I gazed at his body. He seemed to be relaxed and about to sleep, but I still sensed there was some coiled tension in his core, like he would leap out of bed at the slightest provocation. His chest began to rise and fall in shallow, even breaths, and his exhalation became louder. Not quite a snore, just an exaggerated exhale.

Well, I guess Nathan Straight would make a good roommate, especially if he worked third shift. I should have the room to myself most nights. I quietly slipped on my shoes and moved to the door. I was equal parts hungry and restless, and the half-mile walk to the main campus sounded like a good way to clear my head.

When I reached the doorway, I could swear I felt eyes boring into the spot right between my shoulder blades, but when I glanced back at the sleeping man, he hadn’t moved a muscle. His arm was still thrown over his eyes, and his mouth was slightly open as his jaw slackened with sleep. I shrugged off the eerie feeling and slipped out the door.