Fell In Love With My Roomy Chapter 112

It's probably Mark or Kyle; they might be back early for the new term. I'm unsure how to explain it to them – "Hey, your best friend and I broke up just when you were getting used to us dating. It's probably going to ruin the apartment vibe for a while. Sorry."

"Hello?" A pleasant, warm, deep voice echoes, and my heart skips a beat.

It's him, not Kyle or Mark.

Stay calm, Juls. You can handle this. You'll only be in the apartment for a few hours, and then you'll have a month to clear your head. "Who's here?" he inquires as he approaches down the hall, and I take a deep breath. When he sees that my room's door is open with light spilling out into the corridor, he halts.

I hear him slowly and hesitantly moving closer to the door, and my heart races. Even though we haven't seen each other in days, I can't seem to control my infatuation.

I stammer, "H-hi," and he clears his throat.

"I-I thought you were leaving today," he says, exhaling in a way that almost pushes him against the hallway wall.

I whisper, "No, tomorrow." I'm torn. I wanted space, but now, like a fool, all I desire is to leap into his arms. "Oh."

"Yeah."

We've done so many things together, and he's even seen me naked, but now I can't seem to compose myself.

"I'm back, but I just spent the afternoon doing laundry and running a few errands," he says, running a hand through his hair. I'd love to run my hand through it.

"Me too." I shrug. "Before I left, I needed my things from the apartment."

"Cool," he says, and I nod. My stomach is in knots, and my heart feels like it might burst. "I won't be in your way."

He hastily walks back down the hall, and I exhale deeply. Given the current situation, maybe I should have done this yesterday.

Not that I don't want him here, but that I want him here so much.

I get my headphones, plug them into my phone, and play some music to help me focus on packing. I need something to divert my thoughts.

It feels like it's been ages, even though it's only been a few days. Right now, there's a lot of tension between us, and I can't give in.

After loading most of my clothes into my suitcase, I pause to tie my hair into a ponytail. I'm not sure why I'm sweating so much.

A knock at the door and the voice saying "Juls" startle me. I jump and remove my headphones, and there's Kent standing at the door. He seems surprised by my reaction, but his voice always sends shivers down my spine.

"Yeah?"

He asks, "Aren't you that scared of me?" I clear my throat.

I try to stay composed and say, "No, not at all. What's up?"

He holds up a charger and says, "You left your phone charger in New York." I raise an eyebrow. I have so many chargers that I hadn't even noticed. "I was going to leave it on your desk, but since you're here..."

"No worries, Kent. Just put it on my desk." I shrug and go back to my things, biting my lip to keep from crying.

"Alright," he says, and I hear the charger being placed on my desk. "Need any help with packing?"

I shake my head and mumble, "No, Kent, I'm good. You're making this difficult."

Then silence fills the room, and I feel a tear trickle down my cheek. Thankfully, I'm not looking at him.

"Okay," he says quietly. "I wouldn't want to make this more challenging for you."

I hear him leaving, and I start to cry, wiping my face with my hands. What have we done? Of course, dating Kent was never on my mind before, but as soon as it became an option, I seized it. Because I liked him, because I forgave him too easily. As difficult as it was, I couldn't take him back until something changed. I couldn't spend a month with a guy who won't share what's going on in his head.

Can we even work this out? How can I ever live here again?

As I pack the remaining items, time slips by. I'll have to head home to retrieve the rest of my belongings, but the airport is conveniently on the way. Originally, I planned to stay overnight here, but I'm no longer certain if that's the best choice.

I grab my car keys, slip on my shoes, and make a mental note of the few things I still need to pick up before departing.

The journey home feels even more challenging than being in the apartment with him because my thoughts are consumed by everything I've left behind.

I gather snacks, Command Strips, and a box of fairy lights in a basket. Most of the other items I require are already in my apartment or house.

Once home, I sit in my car for an extended moment, unable to face returning to the apartment where we were alone.

I eventually pull myself together and reenter the house. Kent is in the kitchen, reaching for a plate from the cupboard. When I spot the pizza on the counter, I swallow hard and kick off my shoes.

"How was the trip?" I respond with a nonchalant shrug. "Fine, just picked up a few things," I mumble, tossing my keys on the ledge by the door. In the living room, the only light comes from the stove and the TV. Gazing at him, I feel unsteady on my feet.

"Kent," I attempt to sound casual, but my voice comes out gasping and somewhat hoarse.

He shrugs and replies, "Just laundry. I suppose I'm too lazy to cook anything."

In that silence, I sense that he shares my feelings, the sentiment that everything has become too difficult.

He motions to the box on the counter, saying, "Feel free to help yourself if you'd like." Then he places two slices on a plate.

He heads into the living room, switches on the TV to a football game, and I take a piece of pizza from the kitchen. I glance over at him.

Juls, don't do it.

I can't prevent my feet from moving, and I sit with him on the other end of the couch to watch the game. I keep my gaze fixed on the TV or my food, avoiding any eye contact. However, being so close to him makes me incredibly happy, even though it hurts in a good way.

I eat in silence because I'm not prepared to acknowledge that I need to mend relationships with others. This is something I won't compromise on.

After finishing my meal, I take my plate to the kitchen and place it in the dishwasher. When Kent observes me doing this, he gets up and follows me into the kitchen.

In our apartment, the kitchen was compact and mostly enclosed, except for one side with a peninsula.

As he approaches and places his plate beside mine, I freeze. We're near, perhaps too close.

He straightens up, and our faces are almost inches apart. The look in his eyes conveys so much, like a storm brewing beneath the surface.

I watch as his hands slowly descend to my waist. I startle slightly, and he takes a deep breath. One of his hands moves up my body, over my ribs, to my shoulder, and continues until it cups the side of my face.

What am I even doing? It feels like I can't breathe anymore.

He presses his forehead against mine and whispers, "I miss you."

If I could, I would say something, but my longing for him outweighs everything else. For days, all I've wished for is to be near him.

When his lips meet mine, I shiver. When he kisses me, I gasp, and he draws me closer.

The first thought that crosses my mind is that I wish I'd popped a breath mint after the pizza, and the second is that I don't give a damn.

He knows how to kiss.

Then, a moment later, I have a third thought.

"Kent," I say, taking a breath and stepping back. "We can't."

"So what?" He retorts.

I say quietly, "This isn't right for either of us while we're on a break," even though I'd prefer to wrap my arms around him.

"You're leaving for a month, and I won't last that long without this," he whispers, gazing into my eyes. "Damn it, Juls. When have we ever done something right? I want you."

I whisper, "No," and shake my head, even though it's almost painful to say it.

His hands trail down my back, and my breath becomes shallow as he slips them under my sweater, his thumbs gently caressing my stomach.

He whispers, "Then tell me to stop," and I lick my lips. "Tell me you don't want this, and I'll go."

His fingers find the strap of my bra and quickly undo the clasp. He pushes the strap upward, cupping my breasts under my sweater. I moan, close my eyes, and lean my head back against his.

I haven't touched him yet because I know that once I do, it'll be impossible to stop.

He continues to fondle my breasts, making it hard to concentrate. When I feel his thumbs glide over the sensitive tips, I grab onto his shoulders, needing something to hold onto.

Then I lean in and kiss him back, craving his closeness. I realize it's a mistake, but it couldn't feel any better. His hands slide down into my leggings, squeezing my rear until I can't think. I moan and wrap my arms around him more tightly, and he carries me down the hall to his room.

He places me on the bed, and before I can think, he's crawling back over me. He lifts my sweater slightly and kisses my stomach, then moves up to push up my undone bra and caress my breasts.

I'm a mess, moaning and writhing, unable to stop telling myself that I've missed him and I want this. One more time before I leave won't be the end of the world.

His hands hook into my belt loops, and as our chests rise and fall together, I look at him.

"Tell me you want me to," he whispers, kissing the spot just above where his fingers are. I nod silently, and he lowers my pants and underwear, tossing them away. He pulls my legs over his shoulders and asks, "Are you sure, baby?"

I whisper, "Yes," and he places his face between my legs.

We haven't been intimate since before Christmas break, so it doesn't take me long at all, not even close. Despite the anticipation and time apart, it's over quickly.

As soon as he withdraws and I barely catch my breath, he reaches for a condom on his nightstand and undoes his pants. I sit up on my elbows, taking the condom from his hand. He appears confused until I sit up, removing the rest of his pants.

"Lie down," I whisper.

There's too much going on for me to feel like myself.

He complies, and as he does, he pulls off his shirt. I place the condom on the bed and feel hot, confused, emotional, and brave.

I grasp him, and he furrows his brows. I offer a quick smile, then slowly run my lips over him.

I hadn't had much experience with this before, and I wasn't particularly skilled, but I didn't mind. Lust was taking over, and he didn't seem to object.

"Damn, baby," I say. He grunts, and I go a bit deeper.

I don't think I'm doing a great job, but the way he's responding keeps me going. Kent was typically in control when we had sex, so it's nice to seize control for a moment.

He says, "Okay," shakes his head, and says, "Stop."

I don't pay attention. Instead, I continue, feeling his fingers in my hair.

"Damn it, Juls! Stop!" He yells, and I pull back my head and retreat a bit.

"Why did you stop?" I ask quietly, and he struggles to catch his breath while retrieving the condom from earlier.

"Because I want you," she says. "Not your mouth." He rolls his eyes and says, "No."

He grabs my waist, and as one of my legs is thrown over his, I press my lips together and try to descend onto him, but he holds me up.

"Kent-"

He whispers, "Tell me you missed me," and I groan.

"Screw it, Kent, come on-"

"Juls, tell me the truth," he says, and I feel one of his hands move between my legs, brushing that sensitive spot. I moan, relishing the sensation, and then he withdraws and says, "Say it."

"No," I reply.

He resumes his movements, and I seal my lips, but he pulls out once more.

"Dammit, Kent"

He says in a firm tone, "Tell me you missed me, Juls." His hands release their grip on me, and I feel him entering me. "Say it."

I place my hands on his chest, feeling him deep inside me, gazing into his bright green eyes, and I feel vulnerable.

I whisper, "I missed you," and he groans, grabbing my butt.

"What did you say?" He asks.

"I thought of you!"

"Fuck!" I exclaim as I feel him moving me against him.

"I've missed you, too, honey. I've missed you a lot," he grunts, and I offer him a faint smile.

I love him. I really do.

I need to figure out what we should do next.