Twenty
Teagan
Heath’s eyes cast downward as if he’s ashamed. Heath. Ashamed. He’s sitting bare-assed on his couch, manspreading with only a throw pillow covering his dick, but whatever he’s about to say is what embarrasses him?
“What do you mean you can’t afford it?” I ask. “You’ve known about this for months. You—”
“I don’t have the money.”
I purse my lips at him. “You don’t have money, Mr. BMW Manhattan Penthouse Apartment?”
He scowls. “My dad cut me off, okay?”
The air in the room goes flat and cold. His words take a second to make sense. “Cut you off?”
“Yeah. Canceled all my cards, cleared out our shared accounts.”
“No shit?”
“No shit.”
It’s so difficult for me to have pity for him when he has lived his whole life never having to worry about money. Realizing 90 percent of the people on the planet pay their own bills and still manage to survive blows their minds. They are delusional in the most comical way.
I can’t keep my laugh in any longer. “You must be so lost.”
“Shut up, I’m not playing. I don’t know what I’m supposed to do now.”
“Doesn’t your job pay you?”
“Yeah.”
“Then use your big boy money from your next check to buy your ticket. Shit. You act like you’re broke.”
“I kind of am.”
“I am absolutely certain you are not,” I say. “Have you made a budget?”
“A budget?”
Jesus . “Yes. You know, figuring out how much you can spend each month,” I explain. This should be common knowledge.
His gaze is vacant. Not a single thought lies behind those pretty eyes.
“Oh my god. Google budgeting and figure it out.”
I turn around to leave, but remember my keys. When I slip them into my bag, I find Heath with the most pathetic look on his face. It’s like someone kicked his puppy and stole it.
“You’re really freaking out about this, aren’t you?” I ask.
“Yeah,” he says with another pout. “It’s not just the flight. It’s everything. I don’t even know how I’m going to eat tonight.”
I almost feel bad for him. Almost.
It’s not my responsibility to help him, but a tiny piece of me feels I should. The life we live—the one our parents thrust us into—isn’t normal. How many people can live alone in Manhattan on an intern’s salary? They did not set us up to survive without needing their help, which was completely intentional. Whatever is going on between him and his dad has reached a new level of petty. I know Heath would rather lick a subway floor than grovel to that man, and I can’t say I blame him. Heath’s dad is a bigger douche than he is.
“Ugh. Fine,” I give in. “Let me grab my stuff and I’ll help you figure it out. Bring your bills and meet me at the café across the street from my apartment.” He still has that stupid look on his face. “Yes, I’ll pay for your coffee.”
Finally, he smiles. “Okay!”
~
I pick a table tucked away in the back between some bookshelves, safe from view. The setting sun barely reaches us past the reclaimed wood tabletops full of people working on laptops and the line of mustachioed millennial baristas pouring steamed milk into leaf shapes while bopping to early-2000s hip-hop. This is my place. The way it attracts a contrast of ages, backgrounds, and cultures grounds me in the beauty of this city and pulls me from the lifestyle Heath will now struggle to maintain. None of our friends like this café. Even if someone was to stumble across us, all they would see is me torturing Heath in the least sexual way possible.
He is going to have a rough time. His spending will have to go from nearly eight grand per month to two. I doubt the man has ever looked at his monthly credit card statements before we looked at them together. I help him defer his loan payments and cancel a collection of subscriptions that were no longer on the table for him. He almost cried when I showed him how little seventy thousand per year gets you while living in the city.
I look over and find him with his head lying on the table. “You still alive?”
“Barely.” He leans up and runs his fingers into his hair. “How am I supposed to live without all that?”
“You will survive, I promise.”
“How do you know?”
“Believe it or not, entire families live on less than what you make. I also live on less than that.”
“Your parents don’t help you out?”
“They do, but I put it away and only use it for all the extra shit you guys want to do. I’ve paid my rent, utilities, and food on my own since we started college.”
He looks shocked. “Seriously?”
“Yes, seriously. Trust me, I don’t live with Jeremy for fun.”
He looks at the budget again and sighs heavily. “I don’t know how I’m going to do this.”
“Well, your rent is paid until September. Your best option is to move to a smaller place, ask your boss for a raise, and start grocery shopping rather than ordering out for every meal. You still have a place to live, food, clean water . . .” I list, hoping he’ll realize how obnoxious his situation would seem to the vast majority of the world. He stares ahead at the screen with a pitiful frown. “Good god. Do you want to keep crying over Netflix or do you wanna go have sex again?”
He perks up. “Sex, please.”
“Look at that. A free subscription.”
I pack up my things, but he doesn’t move. I look at him in question.
“Thank you, Teags,” he says.
“You don’t have to thank me. I like getting laid too.”
“No, for this. Thank you for the sex, too, but I mean the budget.”
I eye him, looking for the facetiousness that would usually be there. But there’s none. He actually appreciates someone doing something for him. “Don’t mention it. Seeing you have to grow up will be very enjoyable for me.”
He chuckles but stops with a gasp. “The bachelor party. Fuck, I completely forgot. Will I have enough for Vegas, plus the flight and hotel for the wedding?”
“You mean the luxury ocean-side resort ? Definitely not.”
“Then what do I do?”
I sigh and pull out my tablet to bring up his spreadsheet again. Looking over it, he’s nowhere close to affording the rest of his accommodations for the wedding and is short for the flight. “You’ll have to figure out a way to get your own credit card or ask one of the guys to spot you.”
He scrubs his hands over his face. “There’s no way.”
“Well, you better find one. You are not bailing and leaving me to deal with Ritchie. I can handle Colorblind and Ryan, but I swear I’ll turn my back for two seconds and Ritchie will pull a Hangover and roofie us or—”
“Could I room with you?” he asks.
His question makes me snort. “Be so for real.”
“Please, Teags. The guys will freak if they find out what happened.”
“But they won’t freak out when they find out we’re staying in a room together?”
“We’ve been sneaking around this long and they haven’t figured it out. What’s a night in Vegas and three nights in Ibiza?”
“Um. A lot?”
“Come on. We can split the costs, I’ll be on time everywhere we go, and . . . I’ll go down on you every night.”
“As if you weren’t going to already?”
“I can’t do it if I’m not there,” he rebuts.
We knew we’d sneak around in Vegas either way—one of the “public events” I planned for in the contract—but staying in a room together adds a level of difficulty I didn’t plan for. Not that the guys ever do anything according to plan. Without Heath there, I’ll be the fifth wheel of a testosterone clusterfuck.
I glare at him for a moment, but I can’t think of an alternative that doesn’t end with me in prison for choking one of the guys to death. “Ugh, whatever.”
“Yes! Thank you.”
“You owe me. Big-time.”
“I’ll do anything. Just name it.”
I love when a man subjugates himself. The possibilities are endless, but anxiety keeps my mind transfixed on the looming storm cloud approaching. “I know what you can do for me.”
He smirks. “Should I stretch beforehand?”
“No, goofy. My family is throwing a party for my ex.”
“The weak dick ex?”
“Yeah.”
“So, do you want me to pull the fire alarm, or do you want me to make him go missing?”
I laugh. “I was going to ask if you would go with me, but your ideas sound better.”
Suspicion tilts his head. “Wait. You’re asking for a date ?”
“Not a date. A distraction. It’s another public appearance, same as Vegas,” I correct. “It’s on a Saturday, so we’re already scheduled.”
“But me ? Won’t they think—”
“It doesn’t matter.” Only because I won’t let it. “Levi can’t go because he has a game that night, so it’s just Rowan and my parents. I just need them to be distracted and have a reason for Lenny to avoid talking to me.”
His eyes narrow as his lips curl into a mischievous grin. “You want me there to make him jealous.”
“Stop.” I huff. “He already knows Ryan, and most anyone else I could get to go with me last minute. You’re the most logical option.”
He leans his head on his fist, that stupid smirk still on his lips. “Yeah, but it’s mostly because I’m hot.”
Of course I think he’s hot. Everyone with functioning eyes thinks he’s attractive. “You’re annoying,” I scold him.
“And hot.”
“Forget it.”
“Say it. Say I’m hot and I’ll go.”
“You are such a prick.”
“Say it.”
I glare at him. I don’t want to give in to his buffoonery, but I also don’t want to go to that party alone. “You’d be a nine if you weren’t such an astoundingly imbecilic douchebag.”
He smiles like he won something. “I’m hotter than your ex.”
“I wouldn’t go that far.” I give him a sideways glance. “Will you come with me and not make it a thing?”
“Me make it a thing? Never.”
What did I just get myself into? “I’m regretting this already.”
His chuckle sounds deep and suggestive. “Let’s go back to my place and I’ll give you something you won’t regret at all.”
The smolder behind his narrowed gray gaze makes me warm, but we’ve tested the limitations of my guidelines enough times tonight and my invitation made it even worse. “I will see you Wednesday.” The snarl he gives me when I stand makes it worth it. “And I better get my money’s worth.”
“Bet.”