12. TWELVE
Poppy stared at Roscoe. He didn’t seem to have gone crazy or been possessed, but really, how could you tell?
His expression was eager, excited even. “Have you ever seen those life-swap TV shows? You know, the ones where the millionaire swaps places with a homeless guy?”
She laughed slightly. Awkwardly. “I’m not exactly homeless. Though given my flatmate, I sometimes wish I was.”
“Seriously,” Roscoe persisted. “You live in my flat. I’ll live in yours.”
She shook her head. “Why on earth…?”
“And I’ll live on your budget. I’ll do your commute. And you can sample my life. See how that feels.”
“I have no idea why you’re suggesting this. What do you get out of it?”
He rubbed his jaw, taking a second to formulate his reply. “Like I said. I’m clearly ignorant. I’m possibly even as obnoxiously privileged as you think I am. And I don’t like that.”
“So… Go volunteer at a food bank.”
He gave her a teasing look, complete with a suggestive lift of his eyebrows. “There’s a pool.”
“What?”
“At my place. There’s a private residents’ swimming pool. Gym. Sauna. Residents’ bar and lounge. My flat has three double en suites, a balcony…”
“Roscoe. Seriously. You don’t need to sell your flat to me. I’ve seen it. But this is… Is this even…like…legal? Work-wise, at least. You’re my boss. I can’t live at your place.”
“I won’t be there. We’ll only see each other the same as we do now, at work. And I’ve let colleagues crash at my place before. Aubrey lived there for a month after a breakup. It’s no different to that.”
She sat back, arms folded, and fixed him with a look. “This is mad.”
“But…sort of fun, right? Come on, try to pretend you won’t enjoy the thought of me crammed onto a commuter train with nothing but a dry crust for breakfast.”
She snorted. “I would enjoy that. But even more enjoyable to imagine is the thought of you coping with Lecherous Dave.”
“What? Who?”
“My flatmate.”
“And he’s called Lecherous because…?”
“All the worst reasons you can imagine.” She laughed to herself. “He showers with the bathroom door open.”
Roscoe grimaced.
“I think he thinks it’s going to entice me. That I’ll get a glimpse and not be able to help myself. But do you know what it really reminds me of? You know those doner kebab shops…? Actually, you probably don’t.”
He rolled his eyes. “Yes, I know them. I do actually exist in the same world as you. I’ve walked down the same streets. I’ve been drunk in the pub and got hungry on the way home.”
“And you eat doner kebabs? Garlic mayo? The works?”
“Admittedly, not since my student days.”
“Of course. Well, anyway, that’s what Dave reminds me of. Those big meaty slabs, glistening with oil…”
“Urgh, God, stop.” Roscoe held up a hand, wincing.
“You’ll be seeing it for real if we do this. I’m just warning you what you’re letting yourself in for. Although maybe that’s a privilege he reserves just for me.”
She sat back again, considering it properly this time. Roscoe was looking at her, head slightly tilted, basically giving her puppy-dog eyes. And that was unfair. He ought to need a license for that expression.
How had they got to this point? Maybe she had banged her head when she fainted and this was all a coma-dream. It would make more sense. Being carried in Roscoe’s arms, him holding her while she wept, him feeding her and…and…caring…and looking at her like he really meant what he was saying. Didn’t they hate each other? Weren’t they enemies? He thought she was a slutty user and she despised his arrogance and riches?
“Seriously, though,” she said. “We can’t. Your workload, Roscoe. You need to be close to the office. Living in your own place, with your own stuff. You need food and sleep and…and…a working phone charger.”
“You need all those things, too.”
She had no answer to that. He was right. Why did she feel it was somehow more important for him than her? Because of who he was? Because he earnt more? Because he was somehow better than her? Or maybe it was because he had more responsibility at work. She was replaceable. He was not.
“Say yes to this,” he said, “and I will transfer over all my calls, my emails, my diaries. Everything. You’ll get to pamper and coddle me the way you’ve been begging to.”
He said it teasingly, mischief in his eyes—thinking the joke was of course what she had just been reminding herself: that she despised him. But she blushed.
Roscoe’s eyes dipped to the blush on her cheeks. He stood up, went to lean against the sideboard. He drummed his fingers against the edge of it where he gripped the wood—a firm, determined beat. “A month. We’ll agree to do it for a month, and if it’s having an adverse effect, then we’ll swap back.”
“A week. And honestly, I’ll be amazed if you last that long.”
“Two weeks. Because I’m away from tomorrow—it’s Easter weekend. I’ll be away all weekend and half of next week. So I’ll barely be able to start living your life at all until at least Wednesday.”
“Lucky you,” she said dryly, though she smiled a bit, too.
“Let’s just do it on a rolling basis. Until either of us can’t take it anymore. Or we feel we’ve learnt our lesson.”
“I get the feeling you’re talking more about yourself here than me.”
“Maybe,” he conceded with a smile. “Say yes, though, Poppy?”
Argh, he was doing the puppy-dog eyes again.
“OK. Fine. But you’ll be sorry.”
“Excellent.” He grinned and stepped over, hand out. “Shake on it.”
She grasped his large hand, his palm warm and dry against hers.
“You know,” she said, “this really isn’t who I thought you were.”
He gave her a rueful look. “Exactly.”