A/N: Hi everyone! Thanks for checking out the newest chapter. I think you all know what this chapter is going to be about. Hope you enjoy! 

Don't forget to vote and comment!

***

I was a morning person because someone in the family had to be.

Someone had to cook, clean and get the day going while the rest of them slept until past noon.

I had practice over years but it didn't mean that I was full of sunshine after working through the night at Uni-Save and spending two early hours of my morning making and serving breakfast to thirty teens at the Lighthouse, a shelter for troubled, run-away youth where I bank at least six volunteer hours a week. I made so much scrambled eggs I couldn't eat anything but a Pop Tart with a tall cup of coffee.

Hailey was there, cranky with eyes still rimmed black with mascara and eyeliner from the night before. She's eighteen and stuck there volunteering every weekend with an itch she couldn't scratch anymore. She's yet to fail from taking it out on everyone there. She had been flipping the sausages so slowly you'd think they were made of rocks. When I, despite my better judgement, told her to speed it up just a bit so people wouldn't be eating char for breakfast, she gave me a cold glare and walked out to go for a smoke. I had to step in and cook the rest of it. She's not known for her maturity, a fact I've been so tempted many times to remind her of, but I didn't want to risk a confrontation. It would be best for all if I just skimmed the fringes of her awareness. It was a convenient coincidence that she was expelled during her senior year in high school. It meant she couldn't enroll in Prescott at the same time I did.

Sufficiently smelling of a greasy kitchen and permanently squinting against the glaring sun that was still warm in California even in the middle of fall, I hauled my luggage out of Uni-Save's stockroom.

My head was pounding, my stomach was making rude noises and my face was melting off in the heat.

I was determined though.

I had an escape from Kendra and I had a beautiful room waiting for me.

Then there was the mysterious roommate I'd been emailing back and forth with in the last couple of days since I said yes. I asked to meet him once but he had the convenient excuse of having to attend a birthday dinner. I haven't had a chance to ask again in the three short days since we went from being absolute strangers to future roommates. I thought about at least calling him but something in the back of my head was warning me away from it. It was almost as if I didn't want to know what he would sound like. That something about it would force me to change my mind when this opportunity was too perfect for me right now. So we kept it in email. We had boring conversations about his house rules (which I could count in one hand) and my house rules (which would need an extra pair of hands). But outside of those, we talked. Nothing serious but something like...

To: Star Matthews <[email protected]>

From: W. W. <[email protected]>

Subject: Throwback Thursday

Do you like music? Do you hate any particular artists? I'm listening to Sheryl Crow right now. It's totally cheesy, right?

To: W. W. <[email protected]>

From: Star Matthews <[email protected]>

Subject: Re: Throwback Thursday

Angsty. And no, I don't hate any particular kind of music or artist. Just don't play it loud or run around the house belting it out while in your underwear.

To: Star Matthews <[email protected]>

From: W. W. <[email protected]>

Subject: Re:Throwback Thursday

I've been told I look good in my underwear. Even better without it.

To: W. W. <[email protected]>

From: Star Matthews <[email protected]>

Subject: Re: Throwback Thursday

Dude, that's gross. Tell your friends to be honest with you, for once.

To: Star Matthews <[email protected]>

From: W. W. <[email protected]>

Subject: Re:Throwback Thursday

You're mean. But I'll take you anyway.

To: Star Matthews <[email protected]>

From: W. W. <[email protected]>

Subject: Shellfish

By the way, I'm allergic to shellfish. What are you allergic to?

To: W. W. <[email protected]>

From: Star Matthews <[email protected]>

Subject: Re: Shellfish

Men. Smug, slimy ones, especially.

To: Star Matthews <[email protected]>

From: W. W. <[email protected]>

Subject: Re: Shellfish

Harsh. Show a little love, Star.

To: Star Matthews <[email protected]>

From: W. W. <[email protected]>

Subject: Halloween

What do you think about decorating the front yard for Halloween? You like it?

To: W. W. <[email protected]>

From: Star Matthews <[email protected]>

Subject: Re: Halloween

It's your house. Do what you want.

To: Star Matthews <[email protected]>

From: W. W. <[email protected]>

Subject: Re: Halloween

Don't stint on your opinion now. Dangling skeletons or inflatable ghosts? Are you easily spooked?

To: W. W. <[email protected]>

From: Star Matthews <[email protected]>

Subject: Re: Halloween

No, I'm not. Put a dirty drunk on your porch. That would send the kids scurrying away.

To: Star Matthews <[email protected]>

From: W. W. <[email protected]>

Subject: Re: Halloween

Why are you so beastly?

To: W. W. <[email protected]>

From: Star Matthews <[email protected]>

Subject: Re: Halloween

Why do you care?

To: Star Matthews <[email protected]>

From: W. W. <[email protected]>

Subject: Re: Halloween

Because I think it's bullshit.

To: W. W. <[email protected]>

From: Star Matthews <[email protected]>

Subject: Re: Halloween

Are you fighting with me?

To: Star Matthews <[email protected]>

From: W. W. <[email protected]>

Subject: Re: Halloween

If I have to. Will that get you to listen?

To: W. W. <[email protected]>

From: Star Matthews <[email protected]>

Subject: Re: Halloween

No, but what are you itching to say?

To: Star Matthews <[email protected]>

From: W. W. <[email protected]>

Subject: Re: Halloween

I think you want to be happy. And you're doing your damned best not to be.

An hour and a half after that...

To: Star Matthews <[email protected]>

From: W. W. <[email protected]>

Subject: Re: Halloween

Don't change your mind. You're not a quitter. Fight with me when you get here.

I had serious doubts by the time I'd squeezed everything I had into a taxi and directed it to the town house.

Anyone who tried emotional volleyball with me—from my mother to my sister to my father to my grandmother—got the ball tossed right back at them and by the time they served it back to me, I would've already been gone.

Maybe it was the anonymity and the fact that Weston called me out before I could even back up a step that kept me in place.

It was interesting to have someone right there with me as I figured out my move, blocking me before I could make it.

I had a feeling the three months I signed up for weren't going to be as easy as I'd hoped but at least they'd be intriguing.

The taxi pulled up along a tree-lined sidewalk, just steps away from the red brick path that led up to a narrow but tall, three-story townhouse tucked in a row of many others. It stood out with its fully exposed brick facade, black metal window frames and rugged industrial charm.

There was a garage and a parking pad on the main level, featuring a scuffed, stainless steel door that looked large and heavy. Right next to it was an iron staircase that led straight up to a cozy front deck furnished with some patio furniture. The front entrance was a metal-framed glass door. The top third of the building showcased a simple set of matching windows with gray drapes pulled halfway down.

It was a mesmerizing sight.

Brownstones are more common in New York or Boston than in California—or Nevada where I come from—but this house seemed to fit right into its little pocket along the postcard-pretty residential block.

The driver helped me unload my things to the sidewalk and quickly left after I paid him.

I texted Weston on the cellphone number he only gave me last night and told him I was outside the house.

I didn't have keys yet but he'd promised to be here when I arrived.

One by one, I brought up my bags to the front of the house before pressing the doorbell.

When no answer came, I dialled his number just as I tried the doorbell again.

"Hey—"

"I'll be right there!"

I stared at the phone in bewilderment after that abrupt, muffled answer and looked up just as I heard footsteps shuffling from behind the door.

Weston.

Backing up a step and ignoring the silly fluttering in my stomach, I couldn't help the smile as the heavy door slowly opened and a tall male figure emerged, flashing me an impressive set of washboard abs as he tried to get a dark green shirt over his head.

"Hey, I'm sorry," he started saying as he ran a hand through his dark, unruly hair after his shirt finally settled into place. "I snoozed the alarm and fell right back asleep."

My stomach clenched as pieces of the puzzle fell into place at the familiar smoky voice, the muscular torso, the angular face and finally, the mossy green eyes that greeted me with a sheepish look when he finally stopped fussing.

What a stupid, little fool you are, Star.

"Thanks for wasting my time," I bit out before I pivoted on my heel and started walking away, yanking at my bags to try and drag them back out on the sidewalk. I had to leave the bins behind but I was too furious and too humiliated to turn back around.

"Star! Where are you going?"

I ignored him as I stood on the street, pretending to look for a taxi when I couldn't see much through the narrowed red haze in my vision.

I was ticked.

To make it worse, I was ticked because the moment I realized it was him, I instantly knew that I somehow suspected it and like a starry-eyed child, I decided that no, it couldn't be possibly true. I might as well have decided that unicorns existed the same time I thought casual-fuck specialists like Julian didn't toy with a girl who made it clear enough that his services weren't required or desired. It was a waste of his time.

"You're walking out because it's me and you hate my guts?" he demanded, his voice almost as physical as the heat of his body which was suddenly behind me. "Or you're walking out because it's me and I wasn't as bad as you thought I was?"

I chewed on the inside of my bottom lip, trying to ignore him for as long as I could but he planted himself squarely in front of me, arms crossed, cockily waiting for an answer.

"I'm walking out because this doesn't solve my problem," I said through gritted teeth. "I don't compound my mistakes by making more of them."

"It's a free room with more space and amenities and away from your evil roommate. I can't see why it doesn't solve your problem."

I glared at him. "Take a good look in the mirror and you'll have your answer."

He looked at me, clearly exasperated. The slight breeze was whipping his hair around, shielding his eyes slightly, and I had a sudden urge to sweep it back because it got in the way of those irritatingly beautiful eyes.

"I thought you're desperate."

I scoffed. "Not nearly enough to want to live with you. I didn't trade one sex-crazed roommate for patient zero of the same affliction so thanks, but no thanks."

I moved past him, stumbling a little when a crack on the pavement caught a wheel of one of my suitcases. Julian's hand shot out and grasped me by the elbow to steady me and I wriggled it off.

"Star..."

"Weston... If that is even your real name," I retorted.

"Weston's my middle name. I knew you wouldn't go for it if you knew it was me."

I laughed dryly. "How perceptive of you. Now, get out of my way."

"You're truly the most infuriating, most difficult woman I know," he said with a sigh, not budging an inch from where he stood.

"Then stop convincing me to live with you," I shot back. "I don't even know what you get out of this. Surely, not a fuck because if your dick comes anywhere near me, it's gone. Can't be charity either because you don't strike me as a saint. So what's in it for you, huh? A good laugh? It must've been so funny to you to email me back and forth, making me believe that I had a ticket out when it's nothing but just a hilarious joke to keep you thoroughly amused."

He didn't say anything as I caught my breath. He just peered at me with those green eyes I absolutely hated right now until I finally looked away.

Then my stomach rumbled—like an angry thunder promising devastation right before the desert sky broke and exploded with rain.

"You're hungry." His voice was low and surprisingly gentle before he took the handle of one suitcase off my hand and steered me back around the house with a hand on the small of my back. "Come on. I'll make you a sandwich and you can yell at me more afterwards, when you've recharged. Deal?"

I'd temporarily lost my steam with my mortification and I slowly nodded and walked back to the house, stopping by to pick up the bins along the way.

"I'm still not moving in with you, you know?" I said.

He gave me a crooked smile, his eyes crinkling in the corners. "Wait until you've had my famous grilled ham and cheese sandwich. Try saying no then."

***

Of all the things I would suspect a master womanizer like Julian Wilde to have in his arsenal, a damn good grilled ham and cheese sandwich wouldn't be one of them.

But it was quite potent that I couldn't muster much to say in the twenty minutes it took me to clean up my plate. The smirk on his face as he watched me while he helped himself to his own sandwich told me he thinks he's won. He hasn't but I was taking my sweet time before telling him that.

"Are you gonna eat that or what?" I asked shamelessly, eyeing the small corner piece of cheese-coated bread still sitting on his plate.

His mouth quirked. "Don't let me stop you."

I snatched it up and popped it into my mouth, licking my fingers clean. I was acting like a complete cavewoman but I was so happy to be sitting down, even just on the stool by the breakfast bar of his huge, airy kitchen, finally revived from my hunger with the best sandwich I've had in years.

"You're smiling so much right now that my brain is having trouble figuring out if this is reality or a strange dream," he mumbled as he refilled my glass with more orange juice.

"Give a hungry girl some food and she'll think you're a hero," I said just before I had to stifle a yawn. "Now, if I could only search out a nearby bed and throw myself on it, I'd be much, much happier. I've had no sleep in the last twenty-four hours, you know?"

He was still watching me, a smile still lingering on his lips, and I felt a little self-conscious which was silly, really.

"I guess I didn't have to tell you that," I muttered, angling my face away. "I probably look like it."

Julian grinned. "Your eyes are a little smudged and your hair's kind of messy but don't worry. You still look fierce."

I raised a brow. "Makes me wonder why you're not scampering away yet."

He laughed. "There's no point when I'm just going to come right back."

My brows furrowed at that cryptic statement but he got up suddenly and started collecting our plates. "Let me put this away and I'll show you your room."

I paused. "I still haven't decided if I'm going to stay. This is all too... weird."

Now that was easily the biggest understatement out there but I didn't have better words to explain exactly this complicated and unnameable situation we found ourselves in.

The typical me would have hightailed out of here an hour ago.

No, scratch that.

The typical me would've never posted that silly ad on the student bulletin in the first place. I could get creative when it came to solving my problems but I only ever took a risky detour when there was enough at stake. I hated complications especially ones that involved other people. The fewer involved, the less likely things could get screwed up. The less interested I was in them, the easier it would be for me to do what needed to be done, however unpopular it might be.

And as much it aggravated me to admit it, I was a bit interested in Julian Wilde.

Dammit.

"Give it a chance." He flashed me a smile oozing with decadent charm. "You might have fun."

I shook my head. "Which is exactly what I don't want. I'm not going to stick around and play games with you."

He looked put out, his shoulders heaving with a deep sigh, and just as he opened his mouth to speak, a perky female voice called out his name.

"There you are!"

Julian and I turned our heads nearly in unison to the girl standing by the doorway to his main floor bedroom. She was in a leopard print tube top and black lacy underwear.

Well, if it isn't Brittany without her fresh curls, her skirt and the make-up I'd painted her face with. At least she has underwear on.

Of course.

How could've I forgotten the hot date she'd been going on and on about I wondered if she was going to have an orgasm right there on the make-up chair?

"I just woke up and thought that maybe you went out for a run or something. I was getting hungry," she said, her voice fading a little with uncertainty as she took me in with a frown. "Is that you? The girl from Uni-Save? The girl who did my make-up last night? Sara, isn't it?"

"I'm whatever you need me to be," I told her with a tight smile and a mock salute, glancing sideways at Julian who had one arm crossed over his chest and another pressing a hand against his mouth like he was either contemplating a physics equation or trying to snack on his knuckles. "And right now, you need me to be invisible so I'm going to go up to my room and leave the two of you to indulge your appetites."

I tossed a mocking glance at Julian's direction. "You never go hungry, do you?"

His eyes flickered with some kind of plea that I found terribly amusing I couldn't help my grin as I got up to my feet.

"Bethany, just give me a minute—"

Her name's Brittany, idiot.

But then, Julian might be suffering some kind of head injury from all that strenuous sex.

"Wait! You live here?" Brittany asked, not at all concerned that Julian called her a different name. She looked like a deer in headlights, her large, confused eyes darting back and forth between me and him.

I shrugged and grabbed one of my suitcases which we'd left cluttered on the floor. "Apparently, I do now. Have fun, Brittany! I'm so glad the make-up totally worked for you. I mean..." I paused and turned to Julian who didn't look too excited right now, motioning a hand up and down his build for emphasis. "You got to bang all that, didn't you?"

"Very funny, Star," Julian muttered unhappily.

I smiled and winked at the flushed girl who was slowly scooting her way back into the bedroom. "See you around, Brittany! Just keep it down because I'll be sleeping. And don't forget to try his ham and cheese sandwich! It might just be better than his hotdog."

I carried my suitcase up the stairs, trying not to collapse in a fit of giggles. The path to the bedroom was familiar to me from the pictures Julian had sent me.

"So you're staying then?" he yelled after me when I was halfway up the stairs.

"Guess so!" I yelled back. "Thanks for the reminder of exactly why I have nothing to worry about!"

I was still smiling ruefully when I got to the bedroom, surprised and pleased by the new pale yellow sheets that covered the bed. There was even a small glass vase on one of the night stands that held a single pink tulip.

And here I was, already planning on getting a couple sheet sets as soon as I confirmed the size of the bed.

I spied a folded note on top of one pillow and picked it up.

Welcome. Hope you'd be happy here. —Julian

He didn't have to do any of this (hell, no college guy should even be able to do this) but today, I realized that Julian was very much like me once he'd decided on doing something—he didn't back out or do anything half-heartedly.

And as long as I remember why he's no good for me, I'm safe from him.

Earlier, I was afraid to stay because I didn't know what to make of Julian's actions and the concern that definitely propelled them.

I didn't like going through the process of trusting people when I knew it wouldn't pay off. Pointless exercise. Acceptance of the truth was faster and easier.

But now, I was quite sure that this would be no trouble at all.

There was nothing that Julian Wilde offered that I was interested in, and nothing he could give me that I would ever look for.

It was the perfect arrangement.

***

So, what do you guys think?

I'm sure you've already noticed but I'll say this now that Star isn't going to be like a lot of my female leads. She's coming from a dark place and brought a bit of that darkness with her. I've seen some comments about some of her harsher criticisms and observations about people and while they're not something I would say myself or have others follow as an example, I have to write her as her character. She needs to grow—a lot. And she's going to do that from a mindset that's not all sunny and bright. And I think that realistically, she probably represents a greater statistic than let's say, Charlotte, who saw the silver lining in everything. So I hope you stay with Star as she finds her way. 

Thanks!

XOXO!

-Ninya

♪♪♪ Chapter Soundtrack: How To Be A Heartbreaker by Marina & The Diamonds ♪♪♪

[Verse 1]

Rule number one, is that you gotta have fun,

But baby when you're done, you gotta be the first to run

Rule number two, just don't get attached to,

Somebody you could lose

So le-let me tell you

[Chorus]

This is how to be a heartbreaker

Boys they like a little danger

We'll get him falling for a stranger, a player

Singing I lo-lo-love you

How to be a heartbreaker

Boys they like the look of danger

We'll get him falling for a stranger, a player

Singing I lo-lo-love you

At least I think I do!

Cause I lo-lo-lo-love you.