Free In Too Hard (Freshman Roommates Trilogy, Book 3) by Mara Jacobs Page B

be.
    He had. Several times. And I’d always argued back that I wanted to be there as much as I was. Which was true.
    But today I needed to recharge. And I always did that best with a good book.
    Okay, good. Thanks. I’ll be back there after my admin shift tomorrow.
    Take tomorrow off too, if you want. You’re way ahead of where I thought you’d be.
    Nope. Just need a day to lay in bed and read, you know?
    Oh yeah, I know. I know very well.
    He was a writer, and also a voracious reader. Of course he knew.

 
     
    Chapter Ten
     
     
    T he next day, Monday, I was recharged from a day in bed reading the newest John Irving novel, and couldn’t wait to get back to Montrose’s office. But first I had to get through my shift testing faux grading in the new front end system.
    One of the consultants asked what I was doing for New Year’s Eve. The consultants, most from the firm’s Texas office, were here for the holidays too. They’d flown home for the long Christmas weekend, but apparently they would not be doing the same for New Year’s.
    I told the guy I didn’t know of anything going on.
    “No, that’s not what I meant,” he said. “I was asking if you were doing anything. And if not…would you like to?”
    I stared at him. He was pretty hot and we’d done a little good-natured joking when we’d been working in the same areas. But something made me tell him no.
    Okay, it wasn’t just “something” and I knew it. It was Montrose.
    Which was totally stupid, and also… Yeah, stupid was definitely the best word for it.
    It wasn’t like there was anything between us. And yet, there kind of was.  
    It wasn’t like he wouldn’t be out with someone on New Year’s Eve. And yet, I somehow thought he wouldn’t be.
    It wasn’t like I’d be spending it with him. And yet, maybe I would be…at least virtually.
    A girl could—foolishly, completely inappropriately—hope.
    The consultant took the rejection in stride and I got the feeling that he was a co-ed in every port kind of guy.
    When I got to Montrose’s office in the late afternoon I stopped cold as soon as I opened the door.
    He had been here. I knew it, though everything looked the same. It was just—okay, this is really hokey—the air was different.
    I looked at my well-thought-out piles of his notes. They hadn’t been moved or jostled from the precarious perches some of them maintained. But I knew he’d looked through them.
    I circled around the desk and my breath caught as I saw a note right in the center. And definitely not one I’d written.
    Sorry I missed you. I was in Chesney for that wedding so stayed at my place. I didn’t want you to get out of bed (or book) yesterday, so I didn’t mention that I’d be stopping in. The notes are in great shape, organized much better than I could have done. And just seeing them would have sent me off on more note-taking tangents, so it’s great that you were able to do them for me.
    Can’t thank you enough.
    Billy
    I dropped into the creaky, wooden desk chair. Unfuckingbelievable. I’d missed him because I’d wanted to stay in bed and read on a snowy Sunday afternoon. Something I could have done any Sunday—in fact, did most Sundays.
    I looked at the note again, this time noticing the small postscript at the very bottom of the piece of paper.
    I miss you—is that crazy?
    Just as I was thinking how un-crazy that was, my phone rang with his tone. Knowing I couldn’t get my laptop out and booted fast enough, I answered the FaceTime call on my phone.
    “I just got here,” I said, out of breath, like I’d run all the way here from the admin building, when in reality, I was just gasping from the absurdity of our near miss.
    And then chastising myself for feeling that way. I worked for him. Next week I’d be seeing him all the time.
    The thought of seeing him more than just three times a week for a very short hour got my breath going all the more quickly.
    He chuckled a little. “That eager to get to