Rm w/a Vu

  Rm w/a Vu

  Copyright © 2016 A.D. Ryan

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form or by any electronic or mechanical terms, including information storage and retrieval systems, without permission in writing from the author, except by a reviewer, who may quote brief passages in a review.

  This book is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events or locales is entirely coincidental.

  Ryan, A.D.

  Rm w/a Vu / A.D. Ryan

  ISBN 978-1523496914

  Text and Cover design by Angela Schmuhl

  Cover Image: Shutterstock, © Stokkete

  Back Cover Image: istock, © mocker_bat

  Acknowledgements

  Here we are again. Book six. Can you even believe it? I can’t. These last two years have been quite a journey, and there are so many people to thank.

  First, to my incredible husband and my amazing littles. You guys inspire me each and every day. The support I feel from all of you is immeasurable and will forever be appreciated. You all deal with my special brand of crazy, even joining in whenever a new book is finished and arrives in the mail. I couldn’t ask for a better family. Thank you for being awesome humans.

  My parents and siblings, who are always asking questions about what I’m working on—this often leads to awkward pauses between my parents and me as I find a way to skirt the naughty storylines. I appreciate all you guys do from silent support, to sharing my work with others, and even the brutal honesty.

  Speaking of that honesty; Marny, you’ve inspired me since the early days of my writing “career.” You were always straight with me on when my story direction sucked, and I’ve always valued that. I love you, and I miss hanging out with you. We really need to stop having lives so we can, like, do nothing with our chother, mkay?

  Tiff and Lynda, who saw this story before anyone else, you’ve given me so much guidance over the years, and while life has gotten in the way of us talking as often as we used to, your help has been invaluable. This was the story that brought us together, and I’m so grateful that you’ve both stayed with me all this time.

  My pre-readers and street team; you guys ate this story up and had such lovely things to say. I can’t lie and say I never doubt my writing, and this book is so quirky and goofy that there were a lot of doubts along the way. It was your constant support that kept me from working on something else entirely.

  And finally, to the ones who’ve been anxiously awaiting the phoenix that has been born from the ashes: my fandom friends. I hope you love the changes this story has gone through since I first wrote it several years ago.

  Thank you all for standing by me and supporting this crazy dream I had.

  Chapter 1

  Ugh. My neck is positively aching, and I let my heavy, book-filled backpack fall from my shoulder to relieve it as I prepare to exit my last class of the day. Why I chose to take on such an intense course-load is beyond me—I guess my anxiousness to finish college and start my career as soon as possible could have factored in at some point.

  Regardless of my reasoning, it’s what I chose, and I am suffering the repercussions now in my sophomore year at Arizona State.

  As I stumble down the last few steps, my English prof, Professor Drayke, calls me over to his desk and hands me my latest paper. I groan when I see the giant red “B–” that’s written at the top of the page as well as all the little notes and comments. Considering I want to get a job in publishing, I can’t exactly afford my grades to keep declining the way they have been. I already know I’m going to have to study my ass off for midterms coming up right away, which is going to piss Ben off since I’ll be locking myself away more than I already have been.

  “Not your best work, Miss Foster,” Drayke tells me, pushing his thick-rimmed glasses up his nose. He’s looking at me, his dark eyes boring into me, waiting for some kind of explanation.

  I refrain from rolling my eyes at him, nodding solemnly instead. “I know.”

  “What happened?”

  It’s clear that he doesn’t really care, but I decide to answer him anyway. “I guess I’m just feeling overwhelmed by my courses this semester. I’ll work harder, I promise.”

  Drayke acknowledges me with a nod, a few strands of his greying hair flopping over his forehead, and then waves me away dismissively.

  Shoving the paper into my bag and throwing it over my other shoulder, I think about what I’m going to tell Ben. He isn’t going to be happy that I’m cancelling our movie date tonight—especially since it will be our first one in weeks, and I took the night off from my job at the coffee house so we could spend some time together.

  His patience with my additional studying is starting to wear thin, and it’ll only be a matter of time before we have a huge fight about it. On the plus side, this also means I won’t have to put out. It’s not that I hate sex; I just don’t get what the big deal is. It isn’t all fireworks and revelations like the movies lead you to believe. I often wonder why we’re even together. I really should just end things. Set him free to do whatever he wants. Maybe after finals, when I have time to actually sit down with him.

  After the inevitable fight, Ben will come crawling back—he always does—and he’ll have with him flowers or a gift of some sort. Instead of just acknowledging the argument, Ben always throws money at the problem in hopes it’ll go away, but it really only insults me. Then we wind up in bed together. That sex isn’t usually so bad. He’s usually a little more tender and giving. Not always, but on occasion.

  As I make my way, I pull my cell phone out of my pocket and dial Ben’s number. There’s no answer, leading me to believe he’s probably on his way over and I’ll have to cancel our date face-to-face. With a sigh, I enter the building that my room is in and trudge down the hall. The closer I get, the more clearly I make out what sounds like breathless moans coming from this year’s roomie, Delilah, inside. This isn’t new; Delilah has a reputation, and apparently she feels the need to uphold it.

  A flare of annoyance rises in me because I can’t just walk into the room. Well, I suppose I could, but walking in on someone having sex isn’t something I particularly enjoy doing. I’m pretty sure I still suffer from a mild case of Post Traumatic Stress Disorder after seeing my mom and dad on the kitchen counter the last time I dropped by the house to say hi.

  You can bet your ass I called from that point on.

  Dropping my book bag to the floor with a heavy thud, I lean against the wall. I slide down until I’m sitting on the hard tile with my elbows on my knees and my hands in my hair. Other students walk by, going to and from their rooms and the washrooms, and every time one of them looks down at me, I feel like an animal on display at the zoo. They probably think I’ve locked myself out. Of course, if they know my roommate—which most of the male population does—they know what’s really going on.

  The sounds coming from behind the thin door are escalating. People are staring, not just at me now, but at the door too. I blush, offering each and every one of them a shrug, only to be met with sympathetic eyes. If I could afford private housing, I would be there in a second.

  “Oh, yes!” I clench my eyes shut, hearing Delilah’s mounting cries. “Fuck me harder! Oh, you like it dirty, big boy?”

  Good grief. I know Delilah is a little freaky, but I didn’t think she was into reenacting bad porn.

  As if hearing her cry out in the throes of whatever-the-hell it is she’s doing isn’t enough, I’m now being subjected to the low, guttural grunts of her male partner. I bury my face in my hands, gripping my hair at the roots and tapping my foot against the crappy tile rapidly, trying to t
hink of more pleasant things than what’s really going on in there.

  “Oh…oh…OOOOOOOH!”

  Aaaaaaaand, she’s done. Lifting my face from my knees, I smooth down the front of my hair because I know it’s probably standing up from the rough tugging. This won’t be the last time something like this will happen, and I know I should look into moving rooms. I wait a few minutes, really enjoying the silence coming from our room as I assume they’re getting dressed. I’m confident in this assumption because Delilah seems about as cuddly as a porcupine.

  Finally, Delilah’s laugh is heard from behind the door, and it sounds like she’s getting ready to kick her latest tryst out. “That was great. I don’t know why we don’t do this more often.”

  Not wanting her to think that I’ve been out here eavesdropping like some kind of pervert, I stand up and try to make it look like I’ve just got impeccable timing. I grab the shoulder strap to my book bag, lifting it at the exact moment that the door swings open. What I see on the other side stuns me. Or should I say whom…?

  Chapter 2

  “B—Ben?” I blink because I must be seeing things, but when I open my eyes again…and then again, I’m staring directly into the faces of my bitch of a roommate and my lying, sack of shit boyfriend. “What the hell?”

  “Hey, Jules,” he says, smiling suddenly. His eyes still show just how shocked he is to find me here. Outside my room. “I came by to see you. Delilah and I got to talking.”

  “I was in class. You knew that.” I don’t think I’ve blinked again, and my eyes are drying out.

  Ben scratches the back of his neck, dropping his gaze from me. “Oh, yeah. Well, I thought you’d be do—”

  “What the hell?” I shout, cutting him off before he can feed me some lame-ass excuse.

  “Uh…uh,” he stammers, looking back at Delilah and then me again.

  Annoyance and notes of anger course through my veins. I’m actually surprised I’m not angrier about uncovering his unfaithfulness, actually. Weird. I let my bag fall from my shoulder, catching the strap in my hand and swinging it at him. It connects with his shoulder even though he tries to shield himself from it. “You lying, cheating sack of shit!” I look at Delilah and point, my eyes narrowing and my nose scrunching up as my lips curl up into a snarl. “And you. You fucking bitch.”

  “Juliette,” she says, holding her hands up because I’m sure she thinks I’m going to assault her with my heavy book bag next. The thought never crosses my mind, though. Strangling her? Well, that’s another story… “It’s not what you think.”

  I laugh dryly, just once. “Oh, it’s not? Well, I feel pretty damn foolish, then,” I say, stepping into the room and flinging my bag on my bed. Ben seems almost relieved, like Delilah’s really been able to convince me that damn quickly. I’m sure to nip that shit in the bud immediately.

  Crossing my arms, I turn to them and sneer. “So,” I say, “you like it dirty…big boy?” I can see Ben swallow thickly. “Yeah. That’s what I thought. And to think I was going to offer to…” I can’t even finish the sentence without my stomach rolling.

  “Juliette…” His tone is soft, like he’s trying to appeal to some part of me that’s sympathetic. Won’t he be surprised to find that no such part exists.

  Shaking my head, I walk to my dresser to grab a few things. “Save it. Honestly, I don’t even care that the two of you are…whatever you are. You made this really easy on me. You two are perfect for each other. I’m out of here. Delilah, the room’s yours. Have a nice fucking life.” The double entendre isn’t intended, but it’s more than fitting. “I’ll be back for the rest of my stuff as soon as I’ve made other arrangements. Touch any of it, and you’ll wish you hadn’t. You’ve already taken something of mine; I’d say I’ve been more than generous.”

  I throw my bag back over my shoulder and stalk toward the still-open door. People are no longer walking by; they’re standing in the doorway, blocking my escape. I’m still receiving sympathetic stares, but I don’t want their sympathy; I just want to get the hell out before I break down. Though, if I’m being honest, I’m too angry to cry; I don’t even feel the sting of tears in my eyes.

  Pushing my way past the gawkers in the dorm hall, I proceed to our R.A.’s room. I really hope she can move me into another room as soon as possible. It’s the middle of the semester, and I know it’ll be tough, but I’m not above hoping for a miracle.

  My knuckles barely touch the wooden door before it’s yanked open. It’s almost as if she was expecting me. “Juliette, what can I do for you?” Daphne asks with a smile that brightens her green eyes.

  “Daph, you have to help me out. I need to move out of my dorm. Please tell me you’ve got another room or bed available somewhere.” I flop down on her bed and let my heavy bag fall to the floor with a heavy thud.

  Daphne leans against her desk, pulling her shoulder-length strawberry blonde hair into a ponytail. She looks at me, but she doesn’t speak for a minute. She’s trying to figure out what’s happened. Yes, she’s my R.A., but Daphne Robicheaux is also one of my closest friends. We met last year and started hanging out whenever we weren’t busy with our studies.

  “Is Delilah’s revolving door of men still active?” she asks carefully.

  I laugh, turning my head to her. “Something like that.” Daphne’s eyebrows rise, waiting for me to continue. “Her latest customer was Ben. My Ben.” Her eyebrows stay up, but her mouth falls open. “Yeah. That was my reaction too.”

  A loud, repetitive knock on Daphne’s door fills the room. She shakes her head and pushes off the desk to answer it. It shouldn’t surprise me to hear Ben’s voice, and I refuse to get up to go talk to him when he commands Daphne to send me out.

  “She doesn’t want to talk to you, Connely,” Daphne tells him fiercely. I can almost visualize her feral stare as she looks two feet up into his eyes, and it makes me smile.

  “Don’t start with me. I want to talk to her now.” He sounds angry, which is laughable.

  I push myself off the bed, walk to the door, and touch Daphne’s shoulder. Slowly, she turns and looks at me. “I’m going to go and stay with my parents. You’ll call me if something opens up?” While I know that Daphne would gladly let me crash in her dorm for a few days, I don’t want to run the risk of another run-in with Ben or Delilah. What better way to avoid that than to stay with my over-protective father?

  “Juliette…” I ignore Ben as I squeeze through the very narrow space he’s left between him and the doorframe.

  People are still staring, and it doesn’t help that Ben is following me through the dorm and out to my car, yelling my name the entire time. There’s a part of me that wants to turn around and tell him to screw off, but I know it will only open the lines of communication. And talking to him isn’t something I ever want to do again.

  “God damn it, Juliette!”

  I stop dead in my tracks, right next to my car, and turn on my heel to glare at him. “Don’t you dare talk to me like that, Ben. I didn’t do anything wrong. You’d do well to remember that.”

  “You were never around!” he shouts, waving his arms in the air like a maniac. Our audience has followed us outside and is now watching our little soap opera play out. “You were always off doing something, and were so pre-occupied whenever we were together.”

  My eyes widen, and I stare at him dumbly before I find my words. “So this is my fault? No. I don’t think so.” Shaking my head almost violently, I turn and unlock my old, green Civic before throwing my bag in. Instead of staying on the white leather seat, it falls to the floor after hitting the passenger side door. “And for your information, it’s not like I was off doing someone. I was studying. We are in college, you know. It’s what we do.”

  Ben doesn’t seem to think he was wrong. At all. “Yeah, well, I have needs, Juliette.”

  “Yup, I know.” I nod, pressing my lips together. “And it’s no longer up to me to meet them. Don’t come by my parents’ house either. My dad does
n’t take too kindly to people who cheat on his daughter.”

  I hop into my car and start it up. My heart is pounding so hard I can feel the blood pulsing through my veins, can hear it in my ears. I sit there for a minute, trying to stop the shaking in my hands before I put the vehicle into drive. Driving all the way to my parents’ place isn’t something I want to do, as it’s a longer commute than I would like, but I really have no other options at this point.

  Once I feel a little more in control, I put the car in gear and am just pulling away when a very large hand flattens against my window with a BANG! “JULIETTE!” I pretend not to hear him, pretend not to see him, and I press my foot down on the accelerator, my tires squealing against the hot pavement.

  As soon as I’m out of the parking lot, I grab my phone from my pocket and dial my mom. I’m really hoping they won’t mind me intruding for a while until Daphne can find me a new dorm room.

  There’s no answer, so I decide to try my luck. Mom’s probably at the bakery doing payroll or something, so I probably have a couple of hours of quiet before I’ll have to explain anything to her. I toss my phone on the seat next to me. It starts ringing, and one glance shows me that it’s Ben. It shocks me that he’s still trying to get me to understand his motivation for banging my roommate. Resisting the urge to toss it out the window, I pick the phone up and turn it off completely because I know now that he’s not going to stop. He’s always been a persistent bastard.

  As I navigate the streets of Phoenix, I think about how we even got to this point. A year ago, I had been a freshman at the West campus of ASU. I hadn’t known many people because most of my friends decided to go to various colleges around the country—some even in England. I stayed close to home mainly because I loved Phoenix.