The American Roommate Experiment (Spanish Love Deception #2)(6)

He tilted his head, and I wished I could take back the last ten seconds of my life. Rewind, and say something else. Something smart. Flirty. Because was that too much to ask? I wasn’t even asking for the last ten minutes of my life. Or the last ten hours.

But then, he let out a laugh. It was a deep and happy sound. And for some strange reason, I knew it was genuine and not at my expense.

“Yes,” he said, shaking himself off his laughter. “That was the show I was talking about. And that’s him, the guy with the good hair.”

I stared at him—at his face, his upward lips, his beautiful eyes, his hair, which was far, far better than Ashton Kutcher’s ever was—and I felt myself smiling. I couldn’t help it.

Lucas’s gaze dipped to my mouth, though, and that kind of wiped the smile off my face.

“Okay,” I said, squaring my shoulders and averting my eyes. “This was fun.” It really hadn’t been. “But I think it’s time for me to go and leave you to… to it.”

Without wasting any time or considering the knot that had formed in his forehead, I moved in the direction of my belongings and kneeled in front of my two suitcases—one of which was open, and half unpacked—a filled-to-the-brim blue Ikea bag, and the box containing all my perishable groceries.

I heard a few steps to my right. Then, a pair of white sneakers came into view.

“You’re leaving,” Lucas said, just as I grabbed a stray shoe I couldn’t recall pulling out. “With all of… that.”

It hadn’t been a question, I knew that. But I answered anyway.

“Of course.” I snagged the stack of sweaters I’d also apparently taken out. “I was just dropping by Lina’s place to… to…” To occupy her clearly not vacant apartment while she was on her honeymoon because my apartment was uninhabitable at the moment. “To water her plants. Check on the mailbox. You know, that kind of stuff.”

A beat of silence.

“That doesn’t look like just dropping by, Rosie.”

“Oh.” I waved a hand, pushing the sweaters into the open suitcase with my other one. God, why in the world had I unpacked so much stuff? “This? This is all nothing.”

Just me, trying to not inconvenience a guy I might have had a teeny-tiny little online crush on.

He sat down on the floor in front of me. As if we were just hanging out.

My mouth opened and closed a couple of times until I came up with something. “What are you doing?”

Smart, Rosie.

Lucas chuckled, the sound light and unconcerned and not at all how I was feeling. “I was going to ask you what you’re really doing here, in my cousin’s apartment. I would have asked sooner but we were… busy.” A shrug of his shoulders. “I don’t think I’m owed an explanation. All of this”—he spun a finger in the air—“is clearly Lina’s fault. You didn’t have any idea I was coming.”

“I really didn’t.”

“Does she know that you’re here, then?”

I let out a sigh. “No…” I trailed off, even though I did think Lucas was owed an explanation. “But not for lack of trying. I called her—and Aaron—to check if I could use my spare key and stay the night.” Or more like a few nights, plural. “But neither of them picked up. Their phones must be out of reception.”

His eyes roamed around my face, as if he was trying to piece something together. Then, he moved his hand, pulling a small object out from his pocket. “Speaking of keys,” he said, holding it between his fingers. “I wasn’t lying. I do have one.”

My lips parted with another apology, but Lucas stopped me with a shake of his head. “Lina left it at the pizzeria down the street. Alessandro’s? She left instructions for me to pick it up from there.”

That made… sense. Although it didn’t change the fact that she’d never mentioned to me that Lucas was visiting.

“Good man, this Sandro,” Lucas pointed out with a nod. “I must have looked seriously beat, because he even offered me food.” Lucas’s face brightened impossibly, reminding me of an Instagram post where he’s staring at a steak as if that piece of juicy meat had just hung the moon and stars for him. “Probably the best pizza I’ve had in a long while.”

“Sounds like Sandro,” I told him, thinking of the dark-haired, middle-aged man. “And I’m not surprised. We’ve been ordering pizza from Alessandro’s at least once a week ever since Lina moved here a few years ago.”

Probably the reason my best friend had felt safe enough to leave a set of keys with him.

“I was told as much,” Lucas said, a twinkle in his eye, making me wonder what Sandro had said about us. Hopefully not that we always ordered enough to feed a small army.

We stared at each other for a long moment. And although it wasn’t as awkward as a few minutes ago, it wasn’t exactly a comfortable silence, either. Not when my secret infatuation with this man that sat on the floor in front of me seemed to be swelling like a balloon, taking all the space between us. And certainly not when all these facts and details I had collected over more than a year and kept hidden in a sealed cabinet in my mind started pouring out.

Like how I knew Lucas actually loved pineapple on pizza just because it was still food—something I’d never understand. Or how I also knew that he had gotten that tiny scar on his chin by tripping over the leash of Taco—his beautiful Belgian shepherd—and falling on his face. Or how I had learned that he prefers sunrises over sunsets.