I don't know why she's sneaking out so quietly. Maybe she's hoping to make sure she's alone. Maybe the girl's crazy. I like crazy. I'm just not sure about the type of crazy that nearly drills a hole through my hand.
I glance down at the spoonful of cereal halfway to my mouth. There's a bandage covering the space between my thumb and forefinger, but I don't plan to wear it long. The wound really is just a scratch, but it bled like crazy for the first few minutes until I covered it.
I'm still chewing when Julia comes into view, stopping short when she sees me.
"Oh," she says.
It's more of a sound than a word. The remnants of relief drain from her face and I know she didn't expect anyone to be in the kitchen when she left her room.
She's still wearing shorts and a t-shirt. Though, to my disappointment, she took the time to put on a bra.
"Good morning to you, too," I say. "And apology accepted."
"You mean for you barging into my room without permission? Because, no. Apology not received."
I hold up my bandaged hand. "I would apologize, but I think we're even. Though next time I'd appreciate a less violent resolution."
She crosses her arms over her chest. "Yeah, like maybe next time you can get over yourself thinking I need a penis to handle power tools. I put the curtains up just fine, by the way."
"Consider me impressed." Leaning back in my chair, I rub my bare stomach. "But I'm a little disappointed. I can't tell if you're cold or not, anymore."
Her eyes narrow right away, catching my reference. "Wish I could say the same for you. Did you lose your shirt?"
"Maybe," I say with an innocent smile. She holds my gaze a little too intently. I think she's resisting the urge to check me out. I wouldn't mind. I've been hitting the gym more than usual lately. I like appreciative looks. "Or maybe I got blood on it."
"And you don't own any other shirts?"
"I do. Just testing out a theory."
Her mouth half-opens before closing right away, and she resists taking the bait of asking me what my theory is. My shirtless state isn't really meant to prove anything, but I figured it wouldn't hurt.
She walks past me and heads farther into the kitchen. If she's uncomfortable, she hides it well. She moves through the kitchen as if she's familiar with the house already. Like she is staking her claim over living here.
Something about Julia makes it hard for me to take my eyes off of her. It's strange. She isn't the type I've been going after. She seems too defensive and not the sort to enjoy fooling around. Anyway, everyone knows that I've acquired a taste for blondes lately.
Julia thinks we met for the first time in the coffee shop, and while it's technically true, I noticed her around campus a few weeks before. She epically shot down one of my friends when he tried to hit on her. I'm not sure what he said to her, I was sitting a few feet away from her table in the library, but the testy way she responded to him was hilarious to watch. It was also pretty damn hot.
When she snapped at me in the coffee shop, I couldn't help but try to push her buttons. Once again, the look on her face was priceless. She gets a rebellious spark in her eyes. A feisty feline, that one, so easily combative.
Ava gave me just one warning about our new roommate. She's not into guys. I assumed she meant the girl coming to live with us was a lesbian. But when I walked in to see Julia standing in the living room that first day, I knew it wasn't true. I'm good at reading women and Julia's definitely into guys.
"Where's Ava?" she asks, out of nowhere. "Does she even really live here?"
Her tone is sarcastic, but there's something about the nervous glance she shoots my way that tells me she's worried it might be true. Worried she was tricked into living alone with me. I could only dream I'd have her to myself like that. She'd be in my bed, spread-eagle every night.
"Ava's working," I say. "She dropped to part-time classes this quarter to take on three jobs."
"Her mom," Julia says, under her breath. It's not a complete thought, but I know what she means. I'm surprised Ava told her about the expenses of my aunt's care.
Julia grabs a bowl from the cabinet, making a point to not look in my direction again as she takes the milk out of the refrigerator.
"What do you do, sweetheart?" I ask. "When you're not in school, I mean."
Her response is more like an instantaneous reaction. "Don't call me sweetheart. It's condescending."
I almost laugh. Man, she's testy. Does she not realize she's just making me want to mess with her even more? Just to see her wind up, tighter and tighter?
I watch her though she's still avoiding looking in my direction. I can't tell if it's because I'm shirtless or if just my presence annoys her. I can't help myself and ask, "So is your problem with me, specifically? Or do you just hate men in general?"
She hesitates as she sets down the box of cereal on the counter. I wonder if she notices the box is suspiciously light. Not answering me, she tilts the box over her bowl but only a few crumbs fall out. There's no cereal in the box. It's completely empty.
I'm chewing on another mouthful of that very cereal when she spins around to face me.
"I just bought this cereal last night. Did you seriously eat the entire box? You didn't think to leave some for the person who bought it?"
I take a moment to swallow, then run a hand over my mouth and chin, trying not to smile. "I'm a hungry guy. Thought you wouldn't mind, since you drilled a hole through my hand earlier." I lift my hand to show off my bandage.
"Oh right, because you nearly died," she says with an eye roll.
I flex the hand, as though testing it still works. "I had to practically sew it back together. It was gnarly."
Shaking her head, she grabs the empty box of cereal and stuffs it into the recycling bin. "You know, you're an asshole for putting the empty box back in the cabinet."
"Don't get your panties in a knot...Or, wait--do you not wear those, either?"
"Is this yours?" she asks, snatching up a box of Pop-Tarts from the cabinet. I nod and she adds, "Not anymore it isn't."
She tears open a pair of pastries and sticks them into the toaster.
I muse out loud, "Do you realize you've lived here less than twenty-four hours, we've been alone for less than two, and we've managed to bicker non stop?"
My question causes her to look up at me and narrow her eyes again.
"All right," she says, "what's the stupid theory you mentioned earlier?"
So, she did take the bait.
The corners of my lips twitch as I grab my empty bowl and head toward her. She stiffens when she sees me approaching and I don't miss the way her eyes drag over my bare shoulders, biceps, and down my abs. Down to where my underwear peeks out from the waist of my jeans. I like her looking. I like the shadow that flashes over her expression. Most of all, I like the little breath she takes when she catches herself and snaps her eyes back to mine.