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The American Roommate Experiment (Spanish Love Deception #2)(50)

Author:Elena Armas

Because what was I supposed to say? For some reason, I wasn’t even mad about it. I was… many things. But mad wasn’t one of them.

“I like you, Rosie,” Lucas said, and my heart tripped at the words. “I think it’s pretty obvious.” He gave me an unapologetic shrug, the drumming in my chest resuming at an increasing pace. “But you believing that you’re a failure? Just because you have writer’s block? I didn’t like that. Not one bit. And as your friend, I’m going to tell you, just like my cousin did.”

As your friend.

Because he liked me as a friend. Of course, I knew that. That wasn’t new information.

He continued, “And as your friend, I also want to help. My cousin is not here, so I could take over for her. Be your bestie?”

My bestie. That sounded equal parts wonderful and stomach-turning. I sighed. “Okay?”

Lucas inched forward the tiniest bit. “Lina said you’ve sworn off men. And dating apps.” His expression turned serious. “Why?”

I shook my head, feeling the tips of my ears burn. “I don’t think I want to take a walk down Memory Lane: Depressing Dating Edition with you, Lucas,” I muttered.

“I’m trying to understand. I’m at a clear disadvantage here. I’m missing all these pieces of Rosie that Lina has.” He shifted to the very edge of the coffee table, the inside of his knees now touching the outside of mine. I swallowed. “And I’m a man who has dated. Plenty. I don’t scare easily.”

That plenty he’d dropped so casually sparked my curiosity. Fine, it did more than that. It also did a teeny-tiny bit of jealousy. “So… you’re like a dating expert or something?”

He tilted his head, thinking of his answer. “I wouldn’t say an expert, but no woman has ever complained.”

Was he a serial dater, then? His words from a few days ago came back to me. Together with a new flare of jealousy. “I thought you didn’t date anymore.”

Lucas had also said that no one had ever broken his heart, but I kept that remark for myself.

“You have good memory, Rosalyn Graham,” he admitted. “And no, I don’t date. I’m not in the market for that. I can’t be.”

I wanted to dig deeper. Ask him why. “So, you’re a dating expert that doesn’t date.”

“If that’s what you want to hear, then I am.”

No, it wasn’t what I wanted to hear. But what did that matter?

Sighing, I pulled both my legs up, folding them under me and severing the light contact of Lucas’s knees. “I don’t even know where to start with my history.”

Lucas dragged one of his feet up, too, resting it on the side of the couch, right beside my thigh and somehow coming closer. “Assface Number Five,” he offered with a serious expression. “You can start telling me about him. Full name? Address? Date of birth? Just for reference.”

“Ha.” I shot him a look. “Ted, no last name, location and date of birth unknown.” I ignored Lucas’s frown and asked, “What else do you want to know? What went wrong?”

He nodded.

“If you are into that kind of boring stuff…” I joked, but he didn’t even smile. “Okay, so Ted and I dated for… a few weeks give or take.” Six, to be exact. “I’d always been very clear about us being exclusive, not seeing other people because I just…” I shook my head. “It’s how I am. He agreed, told me he didn’t want to share me, either. Then, one day, by pure chance, I saw him attached to someone else’s lips. When I confronted him, he pretended he didn’t know me.” And that had stung like a bee. “The complete tool made such a scene that I even doubted myself for a second, thinking I had the wrong guy. But nope, it was Ted. And he’d been dating that girl longer than me.”

Lucas stared at me, remaining oddly quiet.

I filled in the silence. “So, yeah, that was Ted. Assface Number Five.” I leaned back on the couch, making myself more comfortable while I waited for him to say something, anything. He didn’t. “It’s okay. It only took me a couple days to get over him. He wasn’t even the worst.”

Eyebrows up, Lucas said very slowly, “There’s worse than him.”

I realized it hadn’t been a question, but I answered anyway. “Nathan. Your cousin calls him the King of Assfaces.” I shifted, bringing my knees up and hugging them to my chest. And because I seemed to have no brain-to-mouth filter, I told him about him, too. “He was a screenplay writer. Funny, witty, charming. Our first date was probably the best first date I ever had, and that should have been a red flag considering he showed up drunk.”

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