3. Nadia
3
NADIA
N o, no, no, no, no!
I slam my palm against the steering wheel as I realize Scrubs Boy is pulling up to the same apartment complex as I am. Again.
I lean my head against the backrest as I kill my car. Why is this happening? Why are furnished apartments so rare in LA?
I have to get this place. It’s a tiny studio and costs more than I wanted to pay, but I need it.
When I step out of my Jeep, Scrubs stands on the sidewalk, arms crossed over his chest.
It’s an impressive chest, even though I’m no longer interested in cuddling up to it.
But he certainly gave me more than a once-over when we first met. He’s a boob man. I saw that gaze.
Maybe I can use that?
I’m not a womanly wiles kind of girl. The last time I flirted with a guy, he thought I was fainting.
But I can try.
I attempt a saunter to my walk, only to have my shoe go sideways in a deep crack in the road. I stumble, tilt, and right myself. But my shoe stays behind.
Smooth, Nadia. Real smooth.
I bend down to put the ballet flat back on.
When I look up, Scrubs is watching me.
I try to bounce my step again. I get no closer than two sidewalk squares when he holds out his arms. “Oh, no you don’t.”
I halt. “Don’t what?”
“Don’t get any closer with your perfect hair and pretty face and demonic soul.”
I spit out a laugh. “Demonic soul?”
“This manager is a man. I talked to him yesterday when I made sure this place was furnished.”
“So?”
“I don’t have boobs to flash.”
My face blooms hot. “Are you saying I’m going to flash him for a lease?”
“I would if I looked like you.”
Is that what he thinks?
He lets out a long gust of air. “So, how are we handling this?”
“What do you mean?” I ask.
“We can’t go in like this. We could lose this one. And it’s the?—”
“Last furnished apartment for ten miles,” I finish.
He seems surprised. “Why do you need it? You look like you should be shopping on Rodeo Drive.”
“Don’t make assumptions.” Even as I say it, I wonder if I should have toned down my outfit for the apartment search.
But my cousin Max watched me leave this morning. I’m staying with him and helping him out at his pickle deli while he’s wildly busy between bodybuilding competitions and doctor appointments with his wife Camryn. They’re expecting their first baby.
If he gets the slightest hint that I’m not moving to some lovely, safe, new residence, he might tell my dad. Or worse, Uncle Sherman, who will summon me to the family business pronto.
Then I’ll never get away. And I need to. I must have this studio!
We continue to stand in a stalemate as the heat rises from the sidewalk on the blistering July day.
Finally, he takes a step back. “We have to call a truce. If we argue, we might both lose. Again.”
He’s right. I extend a hand. “Truce.”
He takes it, and despite the fact that he’s my sworn rival, my whole body revs up at the warm contact of his palm pressed to mine.
Now that we’re close, I see that his eyes are changelings, shifting from green to blue to gray. They reflect me, the sky, the building behind us. I could stare into them for hours.
I realize we’re holding hands and jerk mine away. “I suppose I should know your name.”
“Dalton,” he says as we head toward the office.
“I’m Nadia.”
“Well, Nadia,” he says. “May the best renter win.”
I sure hope it’s me.
The air conditioning hits us when Dalton opens the door. A man stands up from behind a desk. This office is much nicer than the last one, organized with bookshelves and file cabinets. There are even plants on the windowsills.
“I’m Evan,” the man says. “How can I help you?”
Dalton steps forward to shake his hand. “I’m Dalton. This is Nadia. We’re interested in the studio you have.”
Evan nods. “Good, good. We just got that one prepped for the next occupant. Have a seat.” He gestures to two chairs on our side of the desk.
I sit down uncertainly. I know Dalton meant that we were each individually interested in the apartment, but I think this man thinks we’re together.
“I’m also interested,” I say.
Evan pauses. “I would assume so.”
That didn’t fix anything.
Before I can try again, he pushes a printout toward us and says, “Here’s the layout.”
Dalton and I lean forward to look. It’s not much, a single big room with a kitchen in one corner, a bar with two stools, a bed on one side, and a sofa on the other. The bathroom occupies the corner opposite the kitchen.
“Is there a closet?” I ask.
Evan points to a narrow rectangle between the bathroom and kitchen. “That’s it here.”
Gosh, it doesn’t look like it would hold a set of bath towels, much less a wardrobe. I have a ridiculous number of clothes here. My brothers made big fun of the number of suitcases I brought.
But I wasn’t sure what I’d end up doing. Working at the family deli? I needed jeans and T-shirts and comfortable shoes.
Getting a desk job with my MBA? Suits and heels.
Being a beach bum? I have a terrific assortment of bathing suits and sandals.
It doesn’t matter. I’m out of options.
Evan points to the rent amount in the corner. “Upon move-in, we ask for the first month’s rent, plus fifty percent as a deposit.”
That’s more reasonable than the last place. And Evan seems much nicer.
“But no bills are included,” Dalton says.
“Correct.”
Oh, that’s worse. It means it will be even more expensive. I’m really stretching how far my paltry deli paycheck will go. I’m definitely not asking for money from my family. If they think for even a second that I’m struggling, they’ll swoop in and take over my life.
But I have to do this.
“Can we see it?” Dalton asks.
“Certainly.” Evan stands, and we follow him out the back of the office to a beautiful courtyard with an actual pool.
Okay, big perk there.
He unlocks a door that doesn’t look like it was involved in a police raid, and we step inside.
It smells clean. The sofa is gray and nondescript, but seems fairly new. The mattress sits on a pretty white iron frame and is covered with an allergy-protective cover.
The kitchen is bright white, with reasonably updated appliances. I peek in the bathroom, and it’s clean and shiny.
“I’ll take it,” I say.
“So will I,” Dalton throws in.
“Good, good, we can have you fill out the application.” Evan leads us back to the door. “Will you file for it jointly?”
“Hold on a sec while we figure that out.” I grab Dalton’s hand and drag him to the kitchen.
“He thinks we’re doing this together, you dolt!” I hiss. “You said it wrong!”
Dalton runs his hands over his stubble. “I see that.”
“What are you going to do to fix it?”
“Take the apartment myself.”
“You can’t do that!” I hiss. “I want it!”
He shrugs. “I guess we can both fill out applications.”
That’s risky. He could choose Dalton. I tap my foot in irritation. “Why do you need it so bad?”
“I’m sleeping on the floor of my friend’s place and with the shifts I’m working, I need a proper bed.” He points to the mattress. “That one looks good.”
“I’m living with my cousin, and his wife is pregnant!” I almost mention that I need a lease to keep me in LA but then think better of it.
“But you’re not sleeping on the floor,” he counters.
“That doesn’t settle it! It’s critical I leave. I can’t afford more than this. I’m not sure I can afford this one.”
This gets his attention. “I’m not sure I can either, to be honest. I was hoping to get him to come down, but I can’t do that if you want it.”
We stand there at a stalemate.
“Whenever you two are ready to come to the office,” Evan says, placing his hand on the doorknob.
We don’t move.
“What do you do?” Dalton asks.
“What do you mean?”
“For work. What hours?”
“I help out at a deli. Morning and afternoons.”
He snaps his fingers. “I work long shifts. I mostly sleep in the morning and early afternoon. That would be while you’re gone.”
My brain buzzes with this information. “What are you suggesting?”
“Neither of us can afford it alone, but what if we time share it? I sleep while you’re at work. You sleep while I’m at the hospital.”
“You mean live together?” My face blooms hot. “With only one bed?”
“We won’t be in it at the same time.”
I cross my arms. “But you were positively ogling me earlier.”
He holds up his palms. “I will be hands off. You’re my roommate now. Like a sister.”
A sister!
Evan clears his throat. “Second thoughts? I had a couple of other calls about this unit.”
“No!” we both say at the same time.
“Yes or no?” Dalton asks.
Ooooh. I’m no good at snap decisions. But sharing would be a lot cheaper. A whole lot. I’d be more free to figure things out.
I have to. “Okay. Let’s do it.”
“Great.” Dalton walks toward Evan. “It’s all decided. We’re good.”
“You work at South General?” Evan asks.
Dalton nods as we step outside, and Evan locks the door behind us. “Just started my internship.”
“It’s nice to have a doctor around.”
Dalton looks very pleased with himself as we head back to the office.
“How long have you two been together?” Evan asks.
I’m about to correct this entire line of thinking when Dalton says, “It feels brand new.”
Evan laughs as we pass by the gorgeous courtyard to enter the office to sign the paperwork.
And just like that, I have an apartment. A roommate.
And, if you ask Evan, a boyfriend.
What have I done?