Todos os capítulos de Roommates With My Best Friend's Boyfriend : Capítulo 11 - Capítulo 20

BIANCAIt felt easier to breathe now. Mrs. Campbell had resumed. Max kept his word and didn't tell anyone about the boys’ locker room incident, and I'd finally paid my tuition so I didn't have the bursary department breathing down my neck anymore. For the first time in a while, I actually felt light. Almost. “He” was still around after all. A dark and ominous figure with my secrets laden into his reach. I wondered if he'd noticed what happened two nights ago. He still hadn't returned my texts. “Sorry I wasn't around last week. I had some family issues to attend to” Mrs. Campbell addressed us, her voice a shot of warm espresso on a chilly Saturday morning. “But I heard it was a very ‘opinionated’ class in my absence” she slid her glasses down to the bridge of her nose and glanced at me. My eyes found my books immediately. “No matter. Let's focus on the topic for today.”She turned toward the board and wrote two words in clean, deliberate strokes.Erotic Writing.Oh. It was that

Chapter 13 MAX “Something came up. I won't be able to make it for Wednesday's study session. Is it fine if I miss this week?” I wondered if I'd said it a bit too harsh last night. She looked flustered. Concerned, even. But I wasn't going to say anything more than that. Suddenly, someone collided with me. I felt his muscles tense the minute our bodies bashed. Direct. It had to be intentional. The ball slipped from my hands, ricocheting off the hardwood before it rolled out of bounds. “Zane! How many times do I need to tell you to go for the ball and not the man!?” Coach Moyes spat. Of course it was him. I turned, and noticed the annoyance written all over his face. “Are you that obsessed with knocking me over?” I walked right passed and headed for the space underneath the net. He followed. “You were zoning out. How else was I supposed to get your attention?” The court hollowed into a thread of space. One where all I saw was the basket behind me, the ball

MAX I walked into the house with grocery bags in each hand and trudged through the darkness until I reached the kitchen. “Is the light bill up already?” I thought, flicking the switch. The lights clicked on instantly. It was barely six in the evening. Why had Ellie turned everything off? I wished I had the strength to care, but my body and mind knew exactly what they needed right now. Climbing the stairs felt like navigating a hailstorm in zero gravity. The house was dark all over—intentionally dark. I flicked every switch I passed, but nothing changed the heavy atmosphere. Something was waiting for me behind our bedroom door. I knew it, but I didn’t have the energy to avoid it. I reached for the knob. Just before my fingers touched it, my phone pinged with a notification. I hesitated. My phone was on DND. No alert should have made it through. None… except one. “She’s… live?” I murmured. Bianca had started a livestream. This early? Nudging the door open, the faint glow insta

BIANCA Why did I say yes? I hated events like this. My dress clung a bit too tightly to my skin. An unnatural feeling. One I realised I’d only gotten used to in private. The music was too loud. Too rambunctious. It wasn’t just the sound itself, but the force of it. Bass thrumming through the ground, through my shoes, through my bones like a second heartbeat I hadn’t agreed to carry. The frat house loomed ahead of us, alive with movement. Light spilled from every window, bodies casting shadows that shifted and collided like ghosts caught mid-sin. I hesitated at the gate. Max noticed. “You okay?” His voice was quieter than everything else here. Grounding. Ellie answered before I could. “She’s fine,” she said, looping her arm through his. “Come on. We’re already late.” Her grip on him was possessive. Territorial. It sent a message I couldn’t ignore. And Max didn’t shake her off… even though he didn’t lean into it either. I followed behind them, feeling like an intruder in a w

BIANCA Recognition flashed through his gaze before fury overwhelmed it. Every step toward us tightened the already thin thread of tension. They knew each other. So much so that it felt like Max didn’t even see me. All he saw was him. Brian. He got close. Close enough to claim the tension for himself, and I stepped between them. “Max, wait…” “What the hell are you doing here?” Max growled. “I believe the words are thank you.” “Thank you?” Rage stripped him bare. He reached over me, but my hands rose on instinct, settling against his torso. “Max. It wasn’t him.” The words managed to stop him mid-step, and he spared me a glance. “It was… Zane.” For a moment, his anger faltered. Then it hardened again. Redirected. His gaze slid to Zane, who still clutched his broken wrist. “That’s bullshit,” Zane snapped, trying to feign innocence. “He just—” The words died in his throat. Both men were staring at him now. And just like that, he froze. Like prey realizing, too late, that it