Rooter (Double H Romance) by Teiran Smith

another long four minutes, I conclude he isn’t going to.
    As I sit in my chair staring at Rooter’s window, I get an idea. His blinds are open. At some point he’ll go to bed. I’ll get his attention then.
     
    Four hours and thirty nine excruciating minutes have passed. My eyelids are getting heavy when I see the lights come on in Rooter’s room. I jerk upright in my bed and stick my head out the window, flailing my arms like a mad woman.
    “Rooter,” I holler. “I need to talk to you!”
    Our eyes lock as he walks toward his window. My pulse races. His expression is a mixture of amusement and irritation.
    “Open the window!” I yell.
    He continues to stare at me a moment and I move my arms in an upward motion, indicating I want him to open his window. Instead, he reaches for the string on the blinds and snaps them shut.
    “Fine!” I slam my window down and turn around to find Miranda standing behind me.
    “Everything okay?” She asks.
    “What do you think?” I snipe.
    She lets out a deep breath, closes my door and sits next to me on the bed. “Talk to me,” she says gently.
    I shake my head. “I can’t.”
    “Yes, you can. I promise not to judge or tell you what I think.”
    I want to so bad. I need to someone to talk to and I want that someone to be her. I decide to give it a shot, but I’m not sure where to start.
    First, I come clean about the depth of my infatuation with Rooter and when it began. Then I tell her about our conversation the day I sprained my ankle, of all the things Rooter found out about me, and how he paid for my prescription. Everything. Just as she promised, she listens until I finish without saying a word.
    “And now, he won’t talk to me. I don’t know what to do,” I whine.
    A moment passes while Miranda processes the information. She looks me in the eyes and takes a deep breath. I prepare for the worst.
    “He can’t ignore you if you’re standing right in front of him.” She grabs me by the arm and tugs me from the bed.
    “You want me to go over there right now?” I ask, ignoring the pain in my ankle from Miranda’s jerking.
    “No time like the present.”
    I glance at my alarm clock. “At present, it’s almost two in the morning. I can’t go over there.”
    “Then you’ll go first thing in the morning,” she says with a sympathetic smile and when she yawns I do the same.
    “You should go back to bed. Thanks for listening,” I say and reach out for a hug.
    “I realize I haven’t been very supportive when it comes to him, but if this is what you want, I’ll support you.”
    “Thank you.”
     
    I set my alarm for seven, so I’m stunned when I’m woken by the sound of Rooter’s Harley. I check the clock. It’s only six thirty. He never leaves this early. I peek out the window and watch as he pulls out of his driveway.
    So much for going to his house first thing this morning. I guess I’ll have to wait until he gets home later. Since I have nowhere to be I roll over and drift back to sleep.
    When I wake again it’s after ten. I check to see if Rooter’s bike is in his driveway even though I’m sure I would’ve heard him pull in. It isn’t there, but there’s a brand new, red convertible Mustang I’ve never seen before.
     
    Three hours later the car is still in the driveway. I’m in the dining room when Rooter’s back door opens. Dopey runs out and a skanky blonde with a mammoth rack follows. I choke on my soda. Who the hell is this chick? I’ve never seen her around. In fact, I’ve never seen anyone at his house other than his biker friends and an older woman I can only assume is his mother. Does Rooter have a girlfriend or is this his way of making a point to me to back off?
    Unconsciously, I pick my phone up and dial his number. It goes straight to voicemail which surprises me because I can’t imagine he’d leave his phone off.
    I spy on the girl through the dining room window. She doesn’t appear to be familiar with the dog. She