The American Roommate Experiment (Spanish Love Deception #2)(4)

Air seemed to barely get in my lungs as I took in a head toppled with wavy chestnut locks. It didn’t match the image neatly kept in my memory. Memory, or the screenshot I secretly kept in my phone. I’d only seen him with a buzz cut.

“It’s really you,” I heard myself mumble as I stared at him. “You’re really here. And your hair is different. Longer and—”

I clasped my mouth shut, feeling an intense blush covering my cheeks.

The handsome face I had looked at through the screen of my phone more times than I’d ever be ready to admit twisted with a puzzled look. But just as quickly, chocolate-brown eyes twinkled with a smile. “Have we… met before?”

“No,” I rushed out. “Obviously. I meant you look different from what I expected. You know, from your voice. That’s all.” I shook my head. “And I’m—God. I’m sorry. For all of this. I just—”

You just what, Rosie?

The blush spread to the tips of my ears, and I thought that if the ground under my feet were to open and swallow me right this moment—something I knew now was not that unlikely—I’d go willingly.

“I’m just so sorry,” I breathed out. “Can I help you up? Please.”

But he—the man who didn’t even know I existed, but whose features I was able to summon in my mind if I closed my eyes—didn’t give any indication of being in a rush to stand up. Instead, his gaze inspected my face, taking his time, as if I were the one that had just popped out of nowhere and dropped at his feet.

And just when I thought I’d collected myself enough to say something else—hopefully marginally smart—his lips stretched. That puzzled look dissolved completely, giving way to a smile, and whatever words had climbed to my mouth crumbled.

Because he was smiling. And it was big and bright and, quite frankly, beautiful in this blatant way you don’t really know what to do with.

Possibly more than the smile he wore on the one screenshot I had allowed myself to keep and might still look at occasionally.

“In that case,” he said through his sunny and upside-down grin. “If we don’t really know each other then, hi. I’m Lucas Martín. Lina’s cousin.”

Yes.

I knew that. I knew exactly who he was. He wouldn’t believe just how well I did.





CHAPTER TWO


Rosie


Lucas looked up from his position on the floor, probably wondering what the hell was wrong with me.

“I…” Ugh. This was not how I’d pictured meeting Lucas. This wasn’t even in the same galaxy of how I’d constructed this moment in my head. And I’d had time—over a year of it—to come up with dozens of different scenarios.

“Hello, Lucas,” I said. “It’s… It’s nice to finally meet you.”

Finally?

Yep. I’d said finally.

Lucas’s brows drew together, and I felt the tips of my ears grow even warmer. My face was probably flashing red, too.

“You’re definitely not a burglar!” I blurted out to veer the conversation away from that stupid, stupid finally. “And I’m also so, so very sorry I assumed you were. I’m sure this was not how you imagined arriving in New York. Or Lina’s apartment for that matter. Anyway, can I please help you up?”

But Lucas remained on his back, brandishing that grin that had taken shape minutes ago. As if all of this was okay. Normal. Which wasn’t. It really wasn’t. Because Lucas Martín was here. On my doorstep—or, well, Lina’s doorstep. And I was making the worst first impression ever.

“Yeah, I didn’t exactly see this coming,” he said as he stretched his arm up, letting his hand hover above him, right at the height of my stomach. “But either way, it’s really nice to meet you, Rosalyn Graham.”

I stared at that hand, taking in the long fingers attached to it. Then, my eyes jumped to the tan skin of his wrist, which was swathed by a worn leather cord bracelet.

A small part of me wondered how his skin would feel against my fingers, but both my arms remained glued to my sides.

“How do you… know my name?” I asked.

Because Lucas had said my full name.

His hand remained in the air, waiting. Just like his smile.

“I heard it earlier,” he answered casually. “You know, when you told the emergency dispatcher. Right after you called me deranged.”

I winced. “Oh God, I guess I did that, didn’t I?” I blew a breath out of my nose. “I’m so sorry about that, too.” I blinked some more. My eyes now fixated on the section of skin on his forearm that had been gradually revealed as the sleeve of his sweatshirt slid down. But I still didn’t reach for his hand and he let it drop down to his side. “I swear I had no idea you were arriving tonight. Lina never said anything. Otherwise, I wouldn’t have called the cops. Heck, I wouldn’t even be here if I had known you were coming.”

Lucas tilted his head with what I assumed was curiosity. Probably wanting to ask why. Why the hell are you here, then?

“But you can call me Rosie,” I continued. “Everyone does. You can, too. If you want, of course. But Rosalyn is also fine.”

A soft chuckle escaped through his permanent grin, followed by a simple, “Rosie.”