Legal Bindings

7. Nick

One roommate was betterthan two roommates. Nick knew that in theory, even if in practice he felt like he might vibrate out of his skin from a combination of anxiety and unhappiness. Because while the idea of Evan living with him was unpleasant, the reality of it was likely to be worse.

Over the course of the two weeks since Evan had first agreed to take the rooms, he’d bombarded Nick with a series of questions over email, in addition to sending over a small moving truck’s worth of art supplies that had been loaded into the attic. Even that minor invasion of Nick’s space had his neck going prickly, and he resented the fact that he felt like he wasn’t allowed into a part of his house.

Which was ridiculous. Of course Nick wasn’t allowed in the attic. Evan was paying for it, ergo Nick needed to stay out. That was the point—a month’s deposit, plus the first month’s rent, plus a security deposit, all arriving neatly into Nick’s bank account three days prior. The contract was simple, a month-to-month lease, and for all that Nick didn’t love Evan, he did love the fact that he could cover his mortgage. Plus, the mere threat of Evan’s presence had inspired him to apply for five jobs in the last week. He hadn’t heard back from anyone, and none of his former contacts were returning his calls, but it was a start.

He had just sat down at the breakfast table with his coffee when he heard an unfamiliar rumble outside, followed by slamming doors and voices. A glance at the clock told him Evan was early—he was supposed to be there between nine and ten, and it was only 8:45—which bugged him. Fifteen minutes wasn’t much, but it was Nick’s last fifteen minutes of solitude, in which he’d planned on enjoying the paper and his breakfast.

With a sigh, he stood and went to the front door then opened it to reveal Evan’s car parked in the driveway and a bright-green moving truck at the curb. There were three movers—all of them young, two of them handsome—and the handsomest one opened the back of the truck, dreadlocks swinging over his shoulder as he flashed a grin at Evan, who laughed.

Evan looked ridiculous, standing there for anyone to see in stonewashed shortalls over a tie-dyed T-shirt paired with high-top bright-pink Converse sneakers. Like a twelve-year-old girl in the body of a grown man. Ludicrous. Nick glanced up and down the street just to see if any neighbors were watching. A few were, and to his horror, Evan was waving at one of them—and she was waving back as if he wasn’t dressed like some demented preteen.

“Nick!” Evan crowed upon catching sight of him and making a beeline for the porch. “Hi, sorry, they got to my place super early, and most of my stuff’s in storage, so they loaded up faster than I thought. I don’t think it’ll take long to get set up. It’s mostly my bed and one of the couches. You don’t mind that I brought a couch, do you?”

They’d had the conversation about the couch already, and the fact that Evan had forgotten annoyed Nick. “It’s fine.”

“Awesome. And hey, I have doughnuts and stuff for these guys in my car. You’re welcome to have some if you’re hungry.”

“I already had breakfast. I’m going to be in my room. Working. Please try not to make too much noise.”

Evan raised a brow, looked him up and down, then smiled. “Big case?”

“Sure,” he lied as he headed inside and grabbed his laptop from the coffee table then fled down the hall to his room, which was spartan and unloved but also his only refuge. With the en suite, he could hole up for days, provided he also invested in a minifridge or timed his excursions to the kitchen around Evan’s schedule. Or purchased a stock of protein bars. Or…

No. He wasn’t going to do any of that. Hiding from other people was a technique he’d perfected in the group home, where being loud got you the wrong sort of attention. Better to be silent and ignored, because having no eyes on you was better than having the wrong sort. The kids who spoke up were the ones who got in fights, got in trouble, got expelled, and had their lives ruined. Still, he wasn’t about to hide in his own home.

Evan’s high-pitched giggle floated through the closed door, and Nick grimaced, the sound caught like gristle between his teeth, unexpected and unpleasant as it sent a shiver down his spine. It was just so theatrical, and maybe Evan couldn’t help the way he laughed, but a part of Nick believed that anyone could control themselves if they tried hard enough. Nature versus nurture was bullshit—people were malleable, and he was living proof.

He settled on his bed, where he opened his laptop and went to LinkedIn, determined to finish contacting the list of maybes he’d brainstormed two days before. The thing about being a lawyer was that ninety percent of the time, the good jobs—the ones that weren’t being glorified ambulance chasers—didn’t get posted. Or they were posted as a formality because the position was going to be filled by someone recruited by a friend of a friend of a friend. Still, he had to try, and if the sound of the movers lugging Evan’s furniture into the house wasn’t enough to inspire him, then nothing would be.

It was hard to ignore Evan’s goddamn giggle, though, which came every ten seconds or so, a bright burst of static that caught Nick’s ear each time—well, maybe “ten seconds” was hyperbolic. In truth, Evan only laughed a few times, but on each occasion, Nick was torn out of the note he was composing and thrown back into reality. He couldn’t figure out what Evan had to be so giggly about. Nobody liked moving except the movers, who were being paid to be there.

“Jesus,” he muttered after the umpteenth peal of laughter from the living room. That was followed by a male voice in a lower register—one of the movers, he assumed—and Evan’s muffled reply. They sounded almost flirtatious, which bugged Nick more than the giggling. He would never have flirted with someone he was paying, yet there Evan was, simpering and laughing and throwing himself all over a group of men who were probably straight.

It was embarrassing, and Nick couldn’t stand it, so he left his laptop on the bed and stalked out to the living room, where Evan was blatantly checking out the ass of the guy with dreadlocks while he crouched to set a box on the floor.

“Oh, hey,” Evan said, offering a little wave. “Carl, this is Nick, my roommate. Nick, Carl.”

“Hey.” Carl stood and turned, a bead of sweat trickling down his forehead as he extended a hand.

“Hi.” Nick swallowed the nerves that always came when he was in the presence of someone as good-looking as Carl. In his opinion, the one percent of humans who’d achieved the pinnacle of physical perfection ought to be given a country of their own simply so the inferior members of the species didn’t have to look at them.

“There’s just a couple more boxes,” Carl said, turning his attention to Evan. “You ought to come out. Jack’s gonna need you to sign the paperwork soon.”

“You sure I can’t tempt you to lift a few more heavy things for me?” Evan asked as Nick fought the urge to roll his eyes.

Carl just smiled and brushed past them both on his way to the front door. Evan watched him go while Nick watched Evan, his annoyance mounting. Once the door shut behind him, Nick couldn’t resist speaking up.

“You shouldn’t do that,” he said.

“Do what?” Evan asked, crouching to open the lid on a box labeled books.

“Flirt with them.”

Evan looked up, arching a brow, and though his eyes were level with Nick’s waist, something about his withering stare made Nick feel all of two inches tall. “Excuse me?”

“They work for you. It’s… you have power over them. It could be construed as harassment.”

A coolly indifferent expression graced Evan’s face as he stood. “You might be a lawyer, but you can lay off the legal advice. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I need to go sign some papers.”