Chapter 5
Chapter
Five
Jax
It turned out Preston’s apartment building was only a few blocks away from my sublet in Capitol Hill. I could tell the short distance confused my rideshare driver, but he gamely loaded up my few boxes and bags anyway, chattering away over the brief route. My stomach was in knots, so I tuned him out. I had concocted some outlandish plans to keep a roof over my head the past few years, but this one may take the prize for most rash. I hadn’t even asked if I’d have my own bathroom at Preston’s place, something typically at the top of my list of questions. After arriving, I stood on the curb, watching the driver unload my earthly possessions on the curb. I started to wonder exactly how I would get it all inside without being in anyone’s way when?—
“This is everything?”
I turned around to find Preston standing on the sidewalk with the handle of the luggage cart, like you would find at a hotel, in his hand. The afternoon sun revealed natural highlights in his chestnut brown strands. His frame was naturally lean, but when he leaned down to grab a box and place it on the cart, his shirt stretched tight, revealing toned muscles underneath.
“You’re here,” I said dumbly, as Preston moved another box onto the cart.
“Well, of course,” he said with a smile in the direction of the street as my driver shut the backdoor of his SUV with a thunk. “It’s not every day my fiancée moves in.” He directed his attention to the driver behind me. “Thanks for delivering her and her stuff in one piece.”
The driver nodded and waved, heading off to pick up his next passenger. I looked back at Preston, dumbstruck by his familiar and outward display of our fake relationship. I half expected him to call the whole thing off as I finished packing up my boxes this morning. His agreement felt reluctant at best last night. But every time guilt started to creep in, I thought about my dwindling bank account and resolved to make the best of it.
“Just practicing,” he said with a smile, loading the last of the boxes and bags onto the cart. “But seriously, is this it? Or will we need to make another trip later?”
I snapped out of it. It was good Preston wasn’t treating me like a coiled snake ready to strike, if we were ever going to pull this facade off.
“Nope, this is everything. I haven’t had a permanent address in over five years. The amount actually gets smaller and smaller with each move. Hope Lyric enjoys the crust of bread I shoved under her bed as I was leaving this morning.” For being out of the country, Lyric had managed to get on my bad side, micromanaging my treatment of her room through Estonia. Catty was not always my first nature, but fake, judgy mean girls brought out the worst in me. It might be nice having a male roommate for a while.
Preston pushed the cart toward the door of his apartment building, waving a fob while pressing a button, so the doors swung open automatically.
“I have keys and a fob for you upstairs,” Preston said as we moved through the lobby. He waved at the concierge behind the desk, heading toward the elevator and pushing the button to call the car. “I convinced them to give me a second fob for three months without adding you to the lease. We never talked about how long...”
“Three months seems like a good start. I don’t know what disgusting habits you engage in within the privacy of your own home yet. We may have to break up because of them.”
The doors to the elevators slid open and Preston wheeled the cart in, leaving a small space for me to squeeze between the side of the car and the cart. The age of the building meant the elevators were smaller than modern-day sizes, and I was forced right into Preston’s space.
Preston’s eyes met mine, his eyes darkening as they held my gaze. “Six,” he said in a husky tone.
“I’m sorry?” I said, wondering if he meant to counter for a six-month agreement for our fake engagement. I used a trial-size bottle of a designer shampoo I swiped from Estonia’s pile of mail in the living room last night, maybe the scent held more power in the wooing department than I expected.
Preston cleared his throat. “We’re headed to floor six. Can you hit the button?” He gestured to the button panel behind me with his chin.
Of course, get in elevator, hit floor number, then elevator moves. Maybe the shampoo scent was having negative effects on me, instead of positive effects on anyone around me. I whirled around, smacking my elbow off the wall and finally managed to hit the button for floor six. The old elevator whirred to life, slowly lifting us into the air. The air around me thrummed with Preston’s proximity to my back. I was aware of the heat wafting off his body reaching my senses. I shivered, turning the motion into a larger body movement by adjusting the laptop bag slung over my body. Hopefully Preston bought it. The elevator dinged, and the doors opened on floor six. I exited, grateful to put some space between us.
We walked a short way down the hall and Preston unlocked the door to apartment 624. Pushing open the door, he gestured for me to enter, and I did, swiveling my head from left to right to take in my new surroundings. On the left, I found a bed tucked into the corner, an open backed shelving unit separating the bed from the couch. I continued my perusal, seeing a single doorway off to the right.
“Want to keep going so I can get this cart in behind you?” Preston asked. He and all my belongings were still half in the hallway. Taking a few more steps into the apartment, I moved toward the edge of the wall next to the entrance. I curled my head around the corner and found a small kitchen located on the other side.
“Where’s the rest of it?” I asked slowly, my brain not wanting to transmit the obvious answer.
“The rest of what? Your stuff’s all right here?” He gestured to the cart.
“That door way leads to...” I pointed at the door I had spotted on my way in.
“That’s the bathroom. There’s a closet back by the front door.”
“So, you live in a studio,” I said, sitting down on a couch that definitely looked more comfortable than it was.
“Yup,” Preston said, tucking his hands into his jean front pockets and tilting his chin up. “That a problem?”
“I just never expected . . .”
Preston shrugged. “You know how rent prices are in DC. I’m barely ever here. Either living in the office or traveling back to Rhode Island with the senator, so it didn’t make sense to waste money on more space than what I needed for just me. Any extra money gets put away in savings for when...”
“For when you run for Congress.” I finished for him. This sound decision-making lined up with what I’d learned about Preston so far.
I glanced around more, noting the touches Preston had made to make the space feel homey and welcoming. The complete opposite of how his sterile office had been. There were books about politics and history on the shelves next to me with a few spy thrillers interspersed. Photos of a group of men, at various ages of life, lined the top of the shelves. I assumed these were the brothers Preston had mentioned. Photographs of DC hung on the walls, and I noticed the colorful carpet at my feet.
“You’re sure a partner never lived here?” I said, gesturing at the bright and personal touches. “Not that a man can’t have good decorating taste, but I’ve seen your office.”
Preston’s cheeks reddened. “My stepmother made me breathe some life into the place when it still looked like a sample unit after I’d been here a year. Or else, yeah, it’d look a lot like my office. It does make it more attractive to come home, I have to admit.”
Okay. Only one room. Only one bed. Definitely two humans. But, it’s a place to live and a job and maybe, just maybe, the opportunity to not feel so fucking alone for once. You can do this, J.
“Okay,” I said brightly. “This will work! Good thing I pack light.”
Preston laughed. “That does have its advantages. I made some room in the closet for you, and the bottom drawer of the dresser is empty. I also cleared some counter space in the bathroom. We can think of other options if you need more...”
I was touched he had taken the time to make space for me in his already cramped quarters. After slotting into other people’s homes and lives as a subletter for so long, I expected more of the same.
“I think that’ll be a great start. We can go from there.”
“Okay, cool. Do you need any help or...”
It was my turn to laugh.
“I’m pretty sure we’d trample each other if you tried to help. Do you need to go back to the office or...”
Preston shook his head. “No, I’m going to work from the couch for a little bit until we have to start getting ready for the gala. I’ll just put my headphones on and zone out. Leave you to it.”
I shrugged and turned to the cart to grab the first box off the top of my stack. I figured all my movement would be pretty distracting, but Preston was a big boy who could make his own decisions. I set to work layering my clothes into my new drawer, using hangers to hang what I could in the closet and lining my shoes next to Preston’s on the floor of the closet. My things had never shared space so intimately with someone else’s and it made me almost itchy. Keeping my guard up around Preston in these tight quarters would be tricky, but if he worked as much as he said he did, we should get some separation.
Except that you’re working with him now too, numbnuts. You better hope this doesn’t backfire.
I flitted around the apartment, finding space here and there for the few knickknacks and personal items I allowed myself to keep move after move. My shampoo bottles sat next to his in the shower, and I shoved tampons under the sink. I smiled to myself. Nothing said cohabiting like introducing feminine products into a man’s cabinet.
Soon all my stuff was squared away. Preston’s place embodied the minimalist lifestyle, which gave me room to squeeze in around the edges. A pile of things I kept on a bedside table was on the foot of the bed, including my grandmother’s quilt. I paused looking at the stark white duvet covering the mattress. We could brighten the bed up with my quilt. Or it could become a couch blanket for a little while. Needing to sit on the couch to snuggle with my quilt could give me the incentive I needed to ever sit on the damn thing, as I remembered the lumps I felt earlier. What I really needed to know was which side of the bed would be mine.
I walked over to Preston and stood directly in front of him, expecting him to notice me and look up when he reached a stopping point. Preston’s eyes remained firmly on his screen, and after a few seconds, I said his name. No acknowledgment. I tried again, louder. “Preston?” Those headphones really put the cancel in noise canceling. I waved my arm, and still, he didn’t budge. Was he sleeping with his eyes open?
I stepped to the side around the small table he had swung off the couch arm and touched his shoulder. Preston jumped six inches in the air, scrambling to take his headphones off. “Shit, sorry,” he said, his chest heaving as he tried to catch his breath. I put my arms in the air in the international gesture for I mean no harm.
“Sorry, I didn’t mean to scare you. I’ve been trying to get your attention for a minute.”
Preston drug his hand through his hair, looking almost embarrassed.
“Ah, yeah, I have this work zone I get into where I’m pretty dead to the rest of the world. It’s really convenient for working in public places, but often results in jump scares like the one you just gave me. What’s up?”
I found myself unable to stop the small smile Preston inspired with his response. This guy was such an earnest nerd. It was endearing. And a little bit cute.
“I just wondered which side of the bed you slept on. I wanted to get some stuff situated on the other side.”
“Which side of the bed... you mean, we’re going to share?”
“I’m sure as hell not going to sleep on this abomination you call a couch. I have no idea how you’re sitting there that long to work.”
Preston reddened. “It is an old couch. I’m never in danger of falling asleep while I work when I sit here. But I’m sure I can figure out how to make it workable to sleep on. You can have the bed.”
I almost felt bad, but there was no way in hell I’d survive on that couch for more than a night or two. Lack of sleep alone was terrible for my stomach, but it also made me crave bad foods that were certain to trigger my IBS.
“It’s your apartment. You’re definitely not sleeping on the couch. We’re two adults. We can’t share?”
He looked at me like I suggested he never vote again, not simply proposing two adults share a single bed.
“Correct. We’re two adults who are practically strangers. And you want to share a bed?” He said this slowly, like if he took long enough, his message would sink in.
I rolled my eyes.
“We’ll build a pillow wall, or maybe you have a board for bundling, if you’re that worried about your virtue. But that reminds me, we need to work on making touching each other look natural before tonight. Do you need to finish anything up before we start getting ready?”
Preston glanced between his laptop screen and my face.
“And here I thought you just meant showering and getting dressed.”
“I mean, we can do that together too, if you want...” I got the exact shade of pink out of Preston’s cheeks as I hoped I would. Teasing him was far too easy.
“I didn’t mean, I thought just, not showering...” He stumbled over his words, his brain seeming to short-circuit.
I put him out of his misery. “I just meant simple touches. Hand holding, leading me by my back, not jumping when I put my hand on your shoulder, dancing. You know, the basics.”
“I only jumped because I didn’t hear or see you. I’m not that bad at this.”
“Okay, then, prove it.”
Preston stared at me, seeming to steel himself. He stood up and walked over to me.
“Let’s start with dancing,” he said, pulling out his phone and selecting a song. A soft, crooning voice rose from the small speaker.
“Go big or go home. I like it,” I said, waiting for him to set the phone down and walk the rest of the way to me. I put one hand on his shoulder and the other tucked into the dip in his waist above his hip. He matched my position, using the large hand that covered most of my small back to pull me incrementally closer. We started to spin in place in time to the song.
“So, have you done a lot of fake relationships in your life? You seem to have quite the list of touches prepared.”
I shook my head, meeting his eyes.
“No, this is a first for me. I guess you could say I’m into watching people.”
I heard it as soon it was out of my mouth. Preston barked out a laugh, and I used the hand on his shoulder to smack him gently in admonishment, a snicker escaping despite my best intentions.
“Not like that, sicko. It’s just... I observe people and the way they interact with each other. Are their touches natural or strained? Can they not keep their hands to themselves, just counting down the moments until they rip each other’s clothes off? Are they keeping up appearances for the people they’re with but their motions are cold and filled with unsaid, angry words? You can tell a lot by touching.”
“And that’s all from your time as a reporter.”
I shook my head. “Not entirely, but it wasn’t unhelpful when I was chasing a story and trying to uncover the truth.” Observing people as a novelist was an occupational hazard, especially when you spent a lot of time in public alone. Making up back stories for people out together ranked among my favorite ways to pass time, and often resulted in something I could use in one of my books
Preston looked like he wanted to push for more from me, but decided against it. He rolled his fingers along my shoulder, readjusting his grip.
“So, how are we touching right now? Like strangers?”
I shook my head again. “Not quite strangers, but right now, our body language points more to a single-digit-date-type couple. Not sure it’s quite at engaged level.”
Preston searched my face with his eyes, seeming to decide something before pulling me flush against his body. The hand on my shoulder curled into my hair to rest my head in the space next to his neck. I found myself closing my eyes, breathing him in, as his thumb moved up and down on my back in gentle strokes.
“How’s this then?” he asked, my cheek feeling his voice rumbling from his chest.
Just then, the song ended, the silence ringing through the apartment. I pushed myself back, my body flushed.
“That’ll definitely do if there’s any dancing. And we covered other touches by starting with the dancing. So smart. And efficient. I’m... I’m going to go take a shower now, start the rest of the getting ready process.” Now whose brain was short-circuiting, Jax?
Preston nodded, his face hard to read.
“There’s an extra towel for you hanging in the bathroom. It’s the blue one, mine’s red.”
“Thank you,” I said before I raced into the only separate room in the place. I closed the door behind me and leaned against it, needing to put something solid between me and Preston Brandt. My mind raced over the last fifteen minutes, trying to square the Preston who got so easily embarrassed at my low-level flirting with the Preston who faced a challenge head on and held me like it came naturally to him.
“It’s not real, it’s not real.” I repeated to myself as I moved to get undressed and turn on the water in the shower. His willingness to engage, the way those blue eyes pierced mine, the way he seemed to want to know more than my practiced and reserved responses. The result was disarming, especially for a girl who had been on her own for as long as me. I may have just met my match.