Home > Love Thy Neighbor (Roommate Romps #2)

Love Thy Neighbor (Roommate Romps #2)
Author: Teagan Hunter

1

 

 

Cooper

 

 

“PENIS!”

My shoulders shake with laughter as I sit in front of my computer, plugging away at my latest project, a video game I’ve been working on for the last six months.

I don’t want to get my hopes up or anything, but I believe it could be the game of the year when we’re finished with it.

“Again?”

“Yes, again!” Her sigh carries through the apartment. “Just tell me what it is!”

“Why didn’t you save it?”

“You know I’m not tech-savvy.”

She’s not wrong there.

Caroline Reed, my best friend since I was fifteen, is decidedly not the tech guru in our duo. I think if it weren’t for me pushing her to always buy the latest versions of phones and computers, she’d still be rocking a flip phone and the world’s thickest laptop.

She’s the artsy one. I’m the buttons and clickies.

She’s the hide-behind-a-book type, and I’d rather spend my Friday nights at the local sports bar.

We make no sense as friends, but here we are, living together in peace. Friends for…what has it been now? Ten, eleven years?

Either way, I can barely remember a time in my life before Caroline came barreling into it with her surprisingly smartass mouth.

“Just tell me the dang Wi-Fi password, Cooper! Or I’m going to call your moms and tell them you’re looking up dirty things on the internet again.”

“I’ll tell them myself.”

“I will beat you with my flip-flop!”

Okay, so maybe it’s not as peaceful as I thought.

“Come on, Coop.” She groans loudly, and I grin because I can imagine her face all scrunched up like it always gets when she’s angry.

“You didn’t ask for it correctly…”

“I NEED YOUR PENIS!”

Doesn’t matter how many times she yells it—which is strangely often—it still makes me laugh like a maniac.

I could change the Wi-Fi network name from Yell I Need Ur Penis 4 Password to something else and make it a little more “family-friendly,” more “mature,” but where’s the fun in that? Working from home all day long gets old quick, and I’ll take my laughs where I can get them.

I push away from my desk and make my way from my bedroom/office into the living room, where I’m not surprised to find Caroline curled up under the massive gray blanket we’ve taken to calling the chinchilla blanket because we swear it’s as soft as the pet she used to have. She acts like it’s freezing in our apartment with just her face poking out of the mound of fabric.

“Give me your phone.” I hold my hand out, towering over her huddled form. “And stop being such a baby. It’s not even that cold in here.”

“It’s sixty!”

“You live in Colorado for fuck’s sake and have for several years now. You’ve had plenty of time to acclimate to this weather. Quit acting like you can’t take a bit of chill.”

We originally grew up in Florida, where we were more accustomed to ball-busting heat than ball-shriveling cold, but we’ve lived here in Harristown in the mountains for about seven years now. We’re used to this climate—or at least we should be.

“Or you could, I don’t know, turn the heat up.”

I quirk a brow. “I’m sorry…are you the one paying the electric bill?”

She grumbles under her breath. I can’t fully make it out, but I’m almost certain the word asshole is in there somewhere.

“That’s what I thought.” I wiggle my fingers. “Phone.”

“Just tell me.”

“No, because I’m going to save it into your phone for a change so you’re not bothering me for it tomorrow night, or yelling through our apartment about how much you need my dick when we’re both painfully aware of how thin these walls are. You’re already the talk of the morning mail run.”

“Then change the Wi-Fi name.”

“And ruin the fun for later? No way.”

“Ugh. Fine.”

She darts her hand out and settles the two-generation-old brick into my hand, then quickly wraps the blanket back around her, chattering her teeth to try to make me feel bad.

Nice try.

I am way too cheap to fall for that shit.

I punch in her passcode, then enter the Wi-Fi password, making sure to hit save.

“There. Now you won’t have to ask again for another month until I change it again.”

“I don’t understand why you change the password so often.”

“Because I’m a paranoid computer nerd.”

“You got the nerd part right.”

I hold her phone up, shaking it. “Just for that, I’m keeping this.”

“You are not. Give it back.”

“Come get it from me.”

She wrinkles her nose. “On second thought, keep it.” She pulls her blanket tighter, if that’s even possible. “It’s too cold out there. Now move, you’re blocking my view of The Vampire Diaries.”

I glance behind me to the TV. “Again, Caroline?”

“Yes. They use my name in this show, and fake Caroline and I look alike. I’m required to watch it to support my long-lost twin.”

I distinctly remember when the show first came out and Caroline called me over under the guise of studying when I knew she just wanted someone there to hold on to in case she got scared of the vampires.

In the end, she was more freaked out by the fact that the character who shares her name could easily be her older sister. She switched the TV off immediately and refused to ever watch it…until articles came out about all the shirtless scenes. Putting on a brave face, she overcame her fear of her small-screen doppelgänger.

The damn show has been on repeat since.

“Multiple times?”

“Yes.”

“And it has nothing at all to do with the hot vampire douche-bros?”

“Douche-bros?” She narrows her eyes at me. “Don’t act like you hate it. There have been plenty of nights you’ve watched it with me.”

“Only because I’m a good best friend. And because you take the batteries out of the remote.”

The brat always hides the batteries when she wants to watch something she knows I won’t like.

Technically, I could change the channel from an app on my phone. But, shit, those fucked-up vampires and their shitstorm of drama suck you in.

Plus, you know, it’s chock-full of hot chicks, which, if anyone asks, is exactly why I’m tuning in.

“You know, I—” Caroline’s phone vibrates in my hand. I look down at the screen.

The fuck?

“Whoa now,” I say, my interest piqued by what I see. “What’s this we have here? A notification for Dud or Stud.” I peek at her. “When did you get on that app?”

Her baby blue eyes—the ones that have gotten me in more trouble than I care to admit over the years—widen to about twice their usual size, and she shoots her hand back out from the comfort of her blanket cocoon. “None of your beeswax. Give me my phone back.”

Her voice is up two octaves…and my curiosity rises along with it.

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