Chapter 4
Chapter four
Liv
Did I really think that I’d be transferring this year to Cedar Lakes? I mean, maybe. My best friend lives here, but I’m not sure I wanted to do it under a cloud of drama.
Then again, would it really be my life if it wasn’t at least slightly unhinged?
Drama seems to follow me like a shadow, and I swear I must be a magnet for chaos, no matter how hard I try to steer clear of it. Or maybe I find it. Jury’s still out, and I will not open that can of worms.
Either way, I know this is my fresh start. Clean slate. Just with the same old pit in my stomach if I think about Rhys too long. No, I’m not doing that, I’m moving on.
A variation of songs about moving on plays like a karaoke bar in my head. Yeah, I can do this.
I tighten my grip on the handle of my suitcase as I stare up at the building in front of me.
Jay’s apartment is nicer than I expected for a recent college grad.
I don’t know why I thought he might’ve moved into one of the smaller places that looked incredibly questionable near campus, but I’m pleasantly surprised.
There’s no traffic hum, no faint whiff of weed from someone pregaming on a Tuesday, though I wouldn’t turn that down right now.
My nerves are akin to a squirrel on three shots of espresso, twitchy and borderline feral.
You’re going to be fine, I tell myself, shifting my backpack higher on my shoulder and taking a breath that feels a bit shaky.
I’m not nervous. I’m not. I just… don’t love asking for help.
Especially not from someone like Jay, who, every time I’ve been around him, has been calm, competent, and good at making me feel like I really don’t have my shit together.
Which, in my defense, I don’t yet, but I will. I have to.
So here I am, standing outside of my best friend’s fiancé’s best friend’s place… try saying that ten times fast and five shots deep.
“Stop procrastinating, Liv, press the buzzer for apartment three.” I lift my hand, and just as I do, a voice comes from behind me.
“It’s apartment four, actually,” a deep voice grumbles.
I spin, my suitcase flinging around my body, smacking into my shins. “Ow, fuck!” I yelp just as I come face-to-face with my new roomie.
Jay’s standing there with damp hair curling in inky spirals, hoodie zipped halfway, and glasses missing, which makes me internally pout. I liked the glasses.
He smells like a mix of soap and sweat, and somehow it makes him hotter. His breath plumes faster than normal around us, and I’m guessing he’s just been for a run.
Because my mouth always moves before my brain can catch up, I blurt, “Wow. I forgot how fucking hot you are, even without the glasses.” Immediately, my hand slaps over my mouth, my very annoying motormouth that has a mind of its own.
“Oh my god. No. That’s not—well, it is what I meant, but I didn’t mean to say it out loud. ”
His brows lift, and the corner of his mouth tugs upward like he’s trying really hard not to smile. “Nice to see you too, Liv,” he says. I soften at the fact he’s not calling me out straight away. Instead, he grabs my suitcase at my feet and asks, “Is this everything?”
He lifts the case with ease, those sweaty muscles gleaming in the September sunshine, and for a second, I’m stuck staring at the way his tan skin glistens.
“Olivia?” he practically purrs, or maybe that’s wishful thinking. I snap my eyes from his arms and look into his dark irises.
“Hm?”
“I asked if this was everything, or if you had more suitcases in your car?”
“Oh yeah, that’s it. I have zero furniture since my dorm was furnished, so this is me.” I don’t tell him that I threw away most of my clothes after everything; nothing I ever wore with him came with me, which means I travel light, and I desperately need to go shopping.
“Really?”
I mock gasp. “Despite what you might think of me, I live fairly minimally.”
He snorts as he pushes the door to his building open, holding my case, and those pesky forearms and exposed biceps tense again. “I had no preconceptions.”
“Liar,” I manage, tearing my gaze away again.
“Okay, maybe one or two.”
I don’t ask what they are, even though the question practically burns the tip of my tongue.
Truth is, whatever he thinks is probably correct.
High maintenance? Check. Loud? Check. Desperate to feel something other than the emptiness that I’ve been left with from my last fuckup of a situationship?
I mean, that one’s a little specific, but, check!
I’m not totally oblivious; I know who I am and how people perceive me, which is why I’m actually surprised Jay said yes in the first place.
We walk up one flight of stairs into his apartment, number four. I need to make sure I repeat that over and over so it sticks in my brain and I don’t scare whoever lives in number three to death when I accidentally try to break in.
The door pushes inward, and I’m immediately hit with the same scent that clings to his skin; that fresh, clean smell emanates from his place, mixed with something warm and homey.
“Wow, this is amazing.” I take in the neutral decor and throws scattered on the couch, the big floor-to-ceiling window in the living area.
“I really appreciate this, by the way. I promise I’ll be out of your hair by January, as soon as the new dorms are ready. ”
He nods. “Come on, I’ll give you the tour.”
We walk around a corner to reveal the kitchen. Again, neutral and minimalist, just how I like it, too. “Kitchen, there are labels for where things go and—”
“Labels?” I ask, lilting my voice.
He pulls open a cabinet, and sure as hell, each row has a label for what should go there.
Rice, pasta, grains, spices, stock… It’s all very clinically organized.
“Wow, that’s uh, I’m gonna need to up my game, you really love organizing.
” I’m more of a throw-it-in-the-cupboard-and-hope-for-the-best girl, but I think I’m about to have an awakening.
“I just like to know where things go,” he says, walking past me, dragging my suitcase still, and I spring into action, hoping that I can pre-soothe some of the damage I’m almost sure I’ll do to that kitchen.
“I can drag that thing around,” I offer, feeling useless.
“It’s fine,” he says, pushing another door open to the bedroom. There’s a white-covered bed, oak drawers, and a small hanging space in the corner.
I step just inside, taking it all in. It smells like him in here, and it’s just as organized. “Well… your bedroom’s nice.”
He shrugs. “It’s yours for now. The spare room has no furniture.”
I nod, then realize what he just said, and my head spins to face him.
“Wait, what? No. No, I can’t take your room.
” My skin instantly goes clammy at his offer.
It’s stupid that kindness makes me so tense.
He’s just being decent, I tell myself, and hope to god I’m right.
It wouldn’t be the first time I’ve been wrong, though.
“You can, and you will,” he says simply, letting go of the suitcase beside the bed.
“I’ll sleep on the couch,” I insist.
“No, you won’t, Olivia,” he says with absolute certainty.
A flicker of heat shoots down my spine at his tone and the finality when he folds his arms over his chest, saying my whole name, not Liv, but Olivia.
Seeing him take a stand with me already makes me feel weirdly safe, like he’s prepared for all my bullshit somehow.
But that can’t be the case, not really; he’s just being nice.
My eyes narrow as his brow arches, challenging me. “Do you think it’s wise to tell a woman what to do?”
His gaze doesn’t waver. “I’m making it easy. You’re taking the bedroom until we get you a bed because the other room is empty.” He takes a step closer, and in the small room, it feels like there’s static buzzing around me.
I fold my arms, mirroring him, but also because I’m stubborn, and only a little because my nipples are hard and I don’t want him to notice. “And what about you?”
“I’ll be fine.”
“On the couch?”
He leans in slightly, and I swear the air shifts again. “You’re not sleeping out there, Olivia. End of discussion.”
There he goes again, making the hair on the back of my neck stand up. That, coupled with his dark eyes, makes it hard to look away. Harder still not to react.
I swallow. “You always this bossy?”
He smirks. “Only when I mean it.”
My heart kicks hard against my ribs, practically shouting his name in excitement. I force a breath and break the tension with a weak deflection. “Fine. But I’ll cook for you—” Not that I know how, my mom’s efforts were limited to reheating takeout, and my dad was always at work. But I can learn.
He pushes past me, leaving me a little wobbly. “No dice, I love cooking.”
“Jesus,” I mutter quietly to myself, looking up at the ceiling.
Is there anything he can’t do? I need to know, the image of my best friend’s fiancé’s best friend needs to be shattered before I accidentally jump his bones.
“But then what can I do here? I have to be useful somehow. I have to understand that your kindness comes with rules here, or I’ll lose my head. ”
Jay turns to me with those dark eyes he wields so innocently. “Okay, then let’s set some rules for living together.”
“Like a contract?”
“Think of it as guidelines.” I can work with that; at least it might ease some of my guilt if I can keep to his rules. Sorry, guidelines.
“Okay, so come on, chores, tasks, put me to work.”
He exhales through his nose, amusement flickering in his eyes. “Fine. No food left in the sink. Dishes straight into the dishwasher.”
“I’m not an animal, Jay,” I say, pretending to jot it down on an invisible notepad.
“Shoes off at the door.”
“Agreed.”
“No food in the bedroom.”
I look up from my fake notepad, raising an eyebrow. “Does that include your bedroom, which is now temporarily also the living area?”
He pauses, mouth opening then closing again, like he didn’t think that one through. “Okay, so… no eating on the sofa, either.”
My jaw drops, hand flying to my chest in mock outrage. “But—but movie nights. And popcorn. And M&M’s. You can’t do that to me.”
His lips twitch, and he tries to smother it with a stern look. “You can eat them in the kitchen.”
“Like some kind of heathen?” I gasp.
That half-smile breaks loose, softening his whole face. “Fine. Popcorn and candy are okay so long as my bedding isn’t on the sofa.”
“Like I said, bossy,” I mutter under my breath, scribbling an exaggerated note in the air before looking at him again. “But I kinda like it.”
His laugh is low, rumbling, like faraway thunder. “Last rule, then. If either of us brings someone home, the other gets a heads-up by text.”
I freeze, blinking at him. “Yeah… that’s not going to be a problem.”
One dark brow arches. “Meaning?”
“Meaning that will not be happening.” I wave my pen-less hand for emphasis.
“I don’t bring dates back to my place anymore.
This apartment is a strictly man-free zone.
Except for you. Prepare to be my only eye candy for the foreseeable, Jay, you lucky thing.
” I waggle my brows suggestively, and it earns me a short laugh from him.
“Good to know,” he says, and I don’t miss the roughness in his voice. “I don’t usually, I mean, I haven’t in a…” His jaw flexes, like he’s already regretting saying even that much. He clears his throat and pushes on quickly. “Anyway. If it ever happens, we make sure the other knows, okay?”
I should let it slide, and I do… on the outside, I nod.
But inside, my brain snags on that crack in his perfectly put-together exterior.
Haven’t in a while. What does that mean, exactly?
Girlfriend? Hookups? Or nothing at all? For a guy who makes competence look like second nature, the slip feels personal.
Vulnerable, even. And yeah, I’m way too curious for my own good, and I need to rein it in.
I decide to skim over that for now and change the subject because it’s none of my business.
“So, I was thinking of going bed shopping tomorrow, wanna come with? Could be a fun roomie bonding thing?”
He regards me for a second. “You only want my help because I’m stronger than Daph, right?”
I chuckle. “Got me admiring your physique again, Jay? How brazen of you.”
Getting his cheeks to color feels like I’ve won something, but I can’t be naive or needy enough to fall at the feet of the one person who’s helping me right now. So, I just enjoy that pink that I put there, and that’s it.