Chapter 8 #2
‘Is it hard?’ Jude asks quietly as Dylan approaches. ’Knowing you can’t rely on your usual tactics of batting your eyelashes
and simply existing as a six-five man in order to seduce a woman you’re attracted to?’
‘I beg you. Get a hobby.’
Dylan hovers at the free chair next to Jude for a few moments. ‘Is this seat taken?’ she asks eventually, despite the fact
Jude just flagged her down to sit there.
‘Go for it,’ I reply.
Dylan sets down a bowl of granola and a pear, removing her water bottle from under her arm and placing it on the table with
a clunk.
‘How did you sleep?’ she asks Jude.
‘Like a baby. I might buy that mattress for my place back home.’ Jude cocks her head when she looks at me. ‘How’s the sofa
bed, Max?’
‘Decent,’ I lie.
‘You forgot your keys, by the way,’ Dylan tells me, digging into her pocket. When she drops them into my palm, they’re warm
from the heat of her body.
‘Thanks. I’d forget my shoelaces if they weren’t attached.
’ I have no idea if I can blame my various health issues, terrible sleep pattern, or if it’s just because of who I am fundamentally as a person, but forgetfulness is part of my daily life at this stage.
I’m not used to having someone else so closely involved to see it.
Dylan nods knowingly, but spends the next ten seconds chewing her cheek and swirling her spoon around her bowl but never lifting
it to her mouth.
‘Dylan.’ I elongate the word. ‘Why are you looking so nervous?’
Caught out, she stops moving her spoon and glances up with wide eyes. After a few painful seconds, she clears her throat.
‘I have something I want to discuss with you.’ Jude pauses her loud slurping of tea and watches us both. ‘Look, I don’t want
you to be put out by me being here . . .’
‘Say what you need to say.’
She continues in a rush, ‘But I was wondering if we could possibly lay down some ground rules about living together. Maybe.
If that’s okay. No worries if not.’
I shrug. ‘Whatever you want.’
Surprise floods her face. ‘Really?’
‘Really.’
The tension leaves her shoulders and she eats a spoonful of granola at last. Was that really what all that build-up was for?
‘Just—’ a yawn interrupts me ‘—let me know when I do something that annoys you. I can’t read minds.’
‘I notice you said “when” you do something,’ Jude quips. ‘Not “if”.’
‘Okay,’ Dylan says. ‘There are some specific things I’d like to discuss.’
I look pointedly at Jude. ‘Go away, this is a conversation for me and Dylan.’
‘Maybe we need a mediator,’ Dylan says, smiling softly at Jude, who bumps their shoulders together.
‘What’s on the list?’ I ask, downing the rest of my coffee. Dylan pulls up a note on her phone, and I can see she’s trying
to finish her mouthful before reading aloud, so I say, ‘Eat. I’ll read.’
Our fingers brush when I take her phone, then Jude intervenes and grabs it from me.
She clears her throat. ‘Please put down both the toilet seat and lid after use. Oh, and there’s a link to an article about how much more sanitary it is to do that.’
‘You don’t need to put please on a list of rules,’ I say, ‘just so you know.’
Dylan keeps eating while Jude goes on, ‘Please make sure to clear up after yourself in communal areas like the bathroom and kitchen. I know this is your trip and
I’m just an extra—’
‘It’s your trip too,’ I butt in. ‘So you can stop thinking like that.’
With a hand over her mouth as she chews, Dylan says, ‘You were the one who was asked to come.’
‘You were also asked to come,’ I point out. ‘By me. It’s not like you showed up uninvited. You’re here, therefore it’s your
trip.’
‘Fine,’ she says, then in a lower voice, ‘you don’t have to read the rest of that point aloud, Jude.’
‘Jude doesn’t have to read any of it aloud. They’re our rules. Let me see.’ I yank the phone back and scan the list. Most of it is about being tidy and putting things back where
they came from, plus turning lights and sockets off if I’m not using them, and a request to clean the hair from the sink properly
when I shave. Maybe I just won’t touch my razor for a few weeks. Embrace being rugged. Or, like, as rugged as you can get
when you have the vaguely elfin face of Peter Pan.
Towards the end of the list, I start to read aloud, ‘Please stop pretending to—’
‘You can read that one in your head,’ Dylan says quickly, sinking into her chair.
Please stop pretending to flirt with me just because you’re bored. I look up at her. ‘I’m not pretending, honey.’ She inhales sharply before I go back to the list. I raise an eyebrow at the
final item. ‘Please remain fully clothed at all times unless in the bathroom. Please elaborate, roomie. I’ll have you know my naked body is usually extremely well received.’
It’s no coincidence that this rule came after she gawped at me shirtless that first morning.
And both times she’s seen me half-naked since.
So it’s an admirable attempt at controlling the thoughts she doesn’t want to have about me, but all it does is make me want to unspool every single one of those thoughts from her, one by one.
‘I just think it’s inappropriate.’ She picks up steam, scraping her final spoonfuls of yoghurt from her bowl. ‘How would you
feel if I walked around without a shirt?’
‘I recommend not asking questions you don’t want the answer to.’
‘Respect her request,’ Jude interjects. ‘You should be fully clothed.’
‘When I’m sleeping? When I’m hot after a run?’ Dylan doesn’t reply, and it fuels me. ‘Listen, I get that laying out these
rules was hard for you, and I’m happy to comply with the rest of them, but this one is ridiculous. It’s not like I’m walking
around with my dick out.’
‘It’s a slippery slope,’ Jude sighs, taking out her phone.
‘I will wear a shirt when necessary, but I’m sure you can handle seeing a bare torso every so often.’ I lean across the table,
dropping my gaze to meet hers. ‘And if you can’t, maybe you should look into why that is.’
Pink dusts her cheeks, and she shakes her head and starts again. ‘These rules are to ensure both of us are comfortable. Thank
you for following them. I’ll stay out of your way as much as I can.’
‘By all means, get in my way.’ I lean back in my chair, the front legs lifting. ‘I wouldn’t mind.’
My phone pings with a text. Jude has messaged me from a foot away.
Jude: Great flirting, you’re doing SO well
Jude: Keep it up xxxxx
I give her my middle finger while Dylan’s focused on peeling the sticker off her pear.
‘While we’re having this discussion,’ I start, ‘may I request full, private access to the property for an hour at nine a.m. every Tuesday? Or at least, a room with a closed door? I have a thing.’
‘A closed door? For . . . private things?’ Suspicion burns behind her eyes.
‘It’s for therapy, Dylan. I don’t plan out weekly masturbation sessions, don’t worry.’ Her eyes widen, and I add, ‘Those are
on more of an ad hoc basis.’
Despite the embarrassed red flushing her cheeks, she lifts her chin defiantly to say, ‘Of course.’ She takes a deep breath,
then her words fall out in a rush. ‘On an unrelated note, please always knock if my door is closed.’
Immediately, my blood electrifies and my mind fills with images I’d be ashamed of, if I knew what shame was.
‘Noted,’ I reply, much more calmly than I expect.
Jude lifts a finger in the air as if she’s just had the most incredible idea. ‘You two should obviously have a “no fucking”
rule. I know someone who got with their roommate—’
‘You mean, you read it in a book once,’ I say.
‘Life imitates art, Maximilian.’
‘Not my name.’
‘Roommate romances are notoriously messy.’ She looks at Dylan to say, ‘And this is about setting boundaries, right?’
I glare at her, because she may well be the biggest shit-stirrer I’ve ever met.
Dylan’s answer is immediate. ‘I mean–yeah. That felt like a given, to me. Not to do that.’
‘Here you go, I’ve added that too,’ Jude says, offering me the phone and ignoring the laser beams I’m shooting from my eyes.
She points to a rectangle at the bottom. ‘You should both sign there. Make it really official.’
I scribble something illegible and slide the phone towards Dylan, but the pear juice trickling down her wrist catches my attention.
She lifts her hand to her mouth to suck the juice away, eyes flicking to mine for a nanosecond as she does, and there’s a
low responding thrum in my stomach.
‘I’m glad this is all sorted,’ Dylan says as she signs, somewhere between embarrassed and triumphant.
‘Me too,’ I say, tapping my mug of coffee to hers. ‘Here’s to our roommate rules.’
She nods, and it feels a little like she’s won this round.
But what Dylan doesn’t know is that rules have never been good at keeping me in check. Every beat of my heart for the past
seven years has proven that.