Match Made in Quarantine

Maddox POV: Hate Me, Passionately

"You have been introduced to the concept of shirts, right? It's that thing you put on your upper body to not walk around naked." Aimee was awake before me, as usual, pouring what looked like a second cup of coffee.

"We've met, yes. But, I'm not the best with steady relationships." The corner of my lips pulled up, and I heard her mutter something unintelligible before turning to face me.

"So I've noticed," she muttered through clenched teeth and narrowed eyes. "Is this daily hookup thing going to be the standard or was this just a warm welcome to your new roommate?"

"I mean, it's more of a nightly thing, really...." I tapped on my lips with my fingers and she let out a frustrated sigh.

"I regret my choices, so badly right now," she said, wrapping her finger around a strand of hair furiously, "I must have been a murderer in my past life cause that's the only explanation for my bad luck." By the way she mumbled the last part to herself I knew it wasn't aimed at me. My lips pulled up in a smile. It didn't seem like she was even fully aware of her little self-monologues.

"Oh, by the way, I need your ID for some tenant stuff."

Aimee looked at me, seemingly battling with some conflicting thoughts in her head before she shook her head, "Ugh, yeah, fine, but make it quick or I'll be late for class."

Taking out her wallet she pulled out an ID, and I had to suppress a smile at her photo. There was a literal strand of hair sticking out, and her eyes seemed to tell you she'd rather be anywhere but there, taking that photo.

"Bad hair day?" I chuckled, taking a piece of paper to scrawl down the needed information.

"Bad life day," she muttered and I raised an eyebrow.

"What was that?" Aimee gave me a look as if she hadn't realized she'd even said that out loud, and brushed her hair behind her ears, a slight blush setting on her cheeks.

"Nothing, can you just hurry please?" Tapping her foot on the floor, her eyes darted all over the place. She was kind of cute.

I finished taking down the information, and gave her back her ID, holding it just a few seconds longer after she'd taken hold of it. Aimee frowned and looked up at me. My lips pulled up into a smirk.

"You're gonna have to sign some stuff when you get home." I reminded her, and she let out a sigh, pulling the ID out of my hand quickly.

"Yeah, yeah, yeah." Waving her hand in the air, she took a few more sips of her coffee, picked up the bag that was settled on the floor by her feet and made her way out the front door.

Since she'd moved in four days ago, most of our conversations had that kind of vibe. I'd tried to strike up a conversation a few times, but even when it had an innocent beginning, somehow we'd end up bickering. It seemed that since the very moment we'd met, Aimee had detested me with the burning passion of a thousand suns, and I was so incredibly amused by that. Because it never happened nowadays. And I mean, never.

I knew I was attractive. Ignoring the way women looked at me, the way they treated me, or the way they reacted to my presence was impossible. Maybe some would call me arrogant, but I saw my confidence as a strength. It wasn't just my looks either. I knew how to talk to women, how to treat them. I'd long ago gotten used to juggling my different personas. One for work or college. One for dating. One for friends. One for my dad.

Whoever said you didn't have to hide who you were from the world, clearly didn't live in my world. There was no way you could act the same way toward everyone, and still make it in life. Life was built on lies, deceit, and betrayal — something I'd learned early on.